Location: Austin, Texas
Date: 17 March 2017
I started my day at the
Twin Peaks-themed Showtime showcase at Clive Bar. It was fairly
weird, as I'm not really sure if there was any connection whatsoever
between the bands playing there and the television show. In fact,
considering the nature of the show, the one band I saw there is
perhaps an odd choice. But anyway, I was there to see Let's Eat
Grandma, an electronic pop duo
of two teenagers from England. They were a fairly hyped act, and I
was impressed by the creativity of their studio recordings. However,
on stage, most of their songs were slow, drawn out, and not very
inspired. They both sang fairly well, but the guitarwork and
electronics were rather
plain. There was one brief
sax solo that seemed included solely for the sake of having a sax
solo. After about twenty
minutes, they seemed to be
experiencing laptop problems in
the middle of a song. After
both members had a try at fixing it, they unceremoniously gave up,
closed
the set early, and walked off. I think this band has promise and
plenty of time to grow and learn, but that was not the show I was
hoping for.
[Let's Eat Grandma at Clive Bar.]
I then biked across
town to Waterloo Records in the hopes of seeing Middle Kids
from Australia. However, there was a surprisingly long line, and I
didn't get through it until after their set was finished. I could
hear something of a
general indie rock sound, but
I couldn't discern enough to form any real opinions.
At
least I was able to make it in to see the headliner of the day party:
hometown favorites Spoon.
Since I hadn't been able to make it to one of their "residency"
shows at The Main (they didn't go on until 1am each night), I was
really hoping to catch this show. It paid off. Spoon brought their
top game and played a strong set of a few new songs and a bunch of
career highlights. Even in their five-piece touring formation, they
still remain tight, focused, and well-honed. They strip their songs
down to the essentials and leave no excess. That isn't to say there
aren't any flourishes, but rather that you sense that every note they
play is there for a reason.
They still remain inventive, dynamic, and fresh after all their
years. Here's the setlist (with help from here):
01. Do I Have to Talk
You Into It
02. Hot Thoughts
03. Inside Out
04. Small Stakes
05. I Ain't the One
06. Can I Sit Next To
You
07. The Underdog
08. Rent I Pay
09. My Mathematical
Mind
Encore:
10. The Beast and
Dragon, Adored
That encore was a
legitimate surprise! Encores are already very rare at SXSW, and in
this case, the record store staff had announced that the show was
over and the band wasn't coming back on. People were already
streaming out of the exits when the cheering broke out and the band
reappeared for one more.
[Spoon at Waterloo Records.]
After a break for food,
I went to my first official showcase of the night at Barcelona to see
Perera Elsewhere, born in London but based in Berlin. The
venue is entirely underground beneath 6th Street, and the vibe is
something of a techno dungeon. It was long, narrow, dark, not
entirely clear where the performer was or when she started, and full
of drunken revelers entirely unconcerned with a live music
performance. The music was something like electronic folk music made
as if lost in the woods and attuned to the sounds of nature. Perera's
voice was airy and sounded like it was just a part of the larger
soundscape. She also played trumpet with effects that recalled Jon Hassell. Her chosen name is appropriate; the style is hard to
place and sounds like it came from some unknown place that's barely
known. It was very strange but fascinating. It's a shame that the
drunks were loud and oblivious to their interference. While I liked
the music, I was glad to escape the weird vibes of the venue.
I went to what might be
the polar opposite, specifically the "historic sanctuary"
of St. David's Episcopal Church, where I saw Agnes Obel,
originally from Denmark. She straddled a line between being a
singer-songwriter and a classical composer. Primarily working with
cellos and keyboards, she and her band created a stately, operatic,
bizarre, intense, ominous swell of music. This is perhaps what was
originally meant when the label "gothic" was first applied
to music. The venue was oddly appropriate, or at least the acoustics
worked in her favor. The drunken frat boys seated in front of me with
beer and a vaporizer did not, and unfortunately the enforcer figure
did not catch them. On my way out, I was amused by the young
greeter's parting words: "See you in another year," spoken
in such a way as to be ambiguous whether it was meant sincerely or
sarcastically.
I then went a block
down the street to another church, the Central Presbyterian, to see
Robyn Hitchcock. I
know him best from his long-ago membership in The Soft Boys, but he's
maintained a prolific solo career since their dissolution in 1981. He
appeared alone with just a guitar, playing a sort of weird
singer-songwriter folk music in a whimsical, witty, and surreal vein.
His songs would often end up where you wouldn't expect, both
lyrically and musically. His voice is unusual but skilled, much like
his guitar technique. Between songs, he would tell jokes or stories
that carried the same air of fancy, humor, and wit. Rarely did his
narratives make sense from start to finish, but I was smiling during
the whole thing. The acoustics of the venue were superb and for once
I could hear and understand every word that he said or sung.
[Robyn Hitchcock at Central
Presbyterian Church.]
As quickly as I could,
I jumped on my bike and headed to Rainey Street to catch as much of
Colombian electronic musician Ela Minus
on the patio of
Lucille as possible. I liked
her cool, chill synth tones although they were abstract and nebulous.
The environment was both distracting and advantageous: the
well-heeled crowd that sipped their drinks and conversed carelessly
seemed largely unaware that a live performance was underway, but I
also had the impression that Ela Minus' music was well-suited to
being a part of a larger setting.
She risked fading into the background, but you could listen actively
or passively and enjoy it either way.
I
ventured up the street to get in line for Neko Case
at the Clive Bar, but the badgeholder line was long enough that I
didn't think I would make it in. Having just seen her last summer as
part of case/lang/veirs,
I accepted my fate and moved along. I met up with a friend, ate some
more food, and eventually made my way to Cheer Up Charlie's, where I
ran into another friend by chance.
I was there to see
Priests, a Washington, DC post-punk band with a heavy
political angle. They actually leaned more punk than post, and their
aggressive, unrelenting energy was a bit overmuch. Even though I
agreed with their political diatribes during and between songs, I
found their approach to be unappealing. There's something impressive
about their intensity, and there was skill in their angular,
sharp-edged performance, but I couldn't get into it.
[Priests at Cheer Up Charlies's.]
Scores:
Let's Eat Grandma: C-
Spoon: A
Perera Elsewhere: B
Agnes Obel: A-
Robyn Hitchcock: A-Ela Minus: B-
Priests: C+
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