South by Southwest: 55 Bands, Four Days and Many, Many Beers

Going to the annual South By Southwest music festival did two things to me: one, it proved that I could subsist on nothing but Tecate and Tex-Mex food, and two, it gave me the opportunity to overdose on live music. Bouncing from bar to bar to bar, I managed to catch 55 bands in four days, running the gamut from spiky post-punk to retro, Southern-style soul revival. Within a two-block radius, hundreds of the nation’s best independent artists played as music spilled out into the Austin streets.

Do I have highlights? You’re goddamn right I do.

Shout Out Out Out Out Out: Bearing a ridiculous name and a love for all things Daft Punk, this Canadian six-piece rolled onstage with two drummers, three bassists and a vocoder-humping singer for one of the best dance parties I’ve ever witnessed. Songs like “Chicken Soup For The Fuck You” and “Dude, You Feel Electrical” traded in tongue-in-cheek lyricism and earnest electro-rocking that got the entire tent dancing. And for bonus points, their singer managed to high-kick more times than 1984-era David Lee Roth—like a indie-funk cheerleader calling the entire audience to shout out … out out out.

Georgie James: One of the best new bands I saw at SXSW, Georgie James features John Davis (formally of the band Q, not U) on guitar and mixes punky aggression with ’60s-influenced mod-pop. Although the daytime crowd didn’t do more than stand around and nod, the band rocked ably through cuts like their new single “Need Your Needs.” I caught them at a local barbershop that offered free mohawks for all attendees—I didn’t go for it, but there was a five-year-old walking around with one, and it totally kicked my ass.

Peter Bjorn and John: I saw these guys at 2 p.m. at a record store/bar. They played gleefully but rather stoically, with a delicate finger-picked version of “Amsterdam,” while I shopped for records and drank a beer. I don’t really have much to say about this show—I just wanted to point out how much that exact moment totally ruled. Peter Bjorn and John might as well have been playing “We Are The Champions.”

The Blood Arm: A band I’ve triumphed for years, these Los Angelinos (unsigned in the U.S.) have found fame in England with their glammy sound and gleeful rock ‘n’ roll posturing. And despite their relative lack of fame in the states, the band played to a packed tent at Austin’s Club de Ville. The band’s MC, Ben Lee (think a white Flavor Flav, with tight pants instead of a giant clock), introduced the band, as he does before every show. The band’s real strength, though, is their killer frontman Nathaniel Fregoso, who spent the entire set running around the audience. At one point, he drunkenly commanded the whole crowd to sit down during their song “Angela.” And you know what? They did.

Panther: Ever since this dude opened for Ratatat on campus last semester, his brand of faux-Prince funk has had me charmed. Playing a hole-in-the-wall day party, Panther (aka Charlie Salas-Humara) managed to get a crowd of hungover, sunburned hipsters shaking their asses, singing and yelping over glitchy beats coming from DJ iPod. Shimmying amidst the audience, Panther went from a quiet, reserved dude to a freaked-out soul singer fit for spandex and a horn section.

Mika Miko: Before seeing this L.A. punk all-girl four-piece, I was told a story about their drummer: Recently, she had been shot. In the head. However, she survived to keep drumming with kick-ass precision because the bullet went through her mouth. I had no choice but to stare at her as she pushed the band through 20 minutes of raucous girl-punk that obliterated the entirety of my tiny ass. I can’t prove that story, but after seeing this band, I can’t help but believe it because they are punk as fuck—and utterly bulletproof.

Les Savy Fav: This year’s SXSW marked the return of spazz-rockers Les Savy Fav, coming back from a three-year hiatus. Having only known their records, I went expecting to see an enjoyable performance. What I got was a large dose of the craziest frontman in the world, Tim Harrington. About 6’3”, bald, fat and sporting a big red beard, Harrington came onstage in a black unitard, pink panties, a poofy ‘80s jacket and a graduation cap. He proceeded to yell about fake endorsements (“This song is brought to you by the Boy Scouts of America!”), dry-hump members of the audience, strip halfway naked and jump out of a window mid-song—all while the band wailed with tight precision. The show was a complete assault on the senses, sonically and physically, with Harrington as the sweaty, fat, unitard-wearing master of ceremonies.

Even running from show to show, SXSW’s huge number of bands was nothing short of overwhelming, with stages abuzz with music from noon til the early hours of the morning. However, I did my best to get a thorough sampling of what the annual festival had to offer. In the end, there wasn’t any huge revelation, with a huge musical movement becoming clear to me after seeing all those bands and eating all the Tex-Mex (damn you, nacho truck!). But like a great big Magic 8 ball, SXSW felt like a sneak peek into the bands that will rock 2007—and it looks like it’s going to be a good year.

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