Pitchfork might think that Hooray For Earth is a new band
In the better late than never department, this is the first of what I hope will be several posts highlighting some of my favorite moments at SXSW.
First up: Wild Flag, ubiquitous at this year's festival, playing 8 (eight!) shows over four days. Here's what I love about this band: It's not simply the Sleater-Kinney/Helium/Minders pedigree.
Future rolled into this gauntlet as the front-runner in terms of
hip-hop buzz (both inside and outside of the rap community). And
after a slew of riotous onslaughts, they'll leave that way (here for
Phoenix coverage of the pandemonium at Fader Fort). But Mac Miller is
without-a-doubt the other nu-rap big to break huge down here, easily
graduating from the mid-sized venues he's been playing nationwide to
halls and theaters on momentum caught in Austin.
be the first to admit that I've always been hesitant to check Erk Tha
Jerk. Not like I haven't ever dug someone with a ridiculous handle –
word to Trick Daddy – but I get a lot of shit in my inbox, and
sometimes it's easiest to judge a book by the author's name. I don't
open shit from Lil Young or Young Commercial either, though perhaps I
other night we caught the first couple sets of an Agency Group
showcase at the Mohawk, where we got a focused snapshot of what's to
come from indie hip-hop's most dominant label in the next few months.
Sure, there's a new Atmosphere album on the immediate horizon, but if
there's ever been an imprint that relies on its entire roster –
from the grandest headliners to up-and-comers – for deep,
tremendous releases, it's this one.
For twenty minutes on Thursday night, my friend Akhil and I rounded the perimeter of the Scoot Inn looking for a way in. It was 1:30 a.m., the venue was at capacity and Talib Kwali was performing inside. We had just seen Beach Fossils fans almost tear down an outdoor stage tent at Shangri-La, we were drunk and we really wanted to see some hip-hop.
I don't know what to tell you about what went down tonight at dusk at the Fader Fort: I have seen the future of rap and its name is ODD FUTURE? Nah, right. South by Southwest is often, at bottom, several thousand professionals deciding by fiat what the agreed-upon agendas will be for the next three months. Artists are carefully groomed, worked like dogs, and put mercilessly through ther paces.
“Zero tolerance for fraudulence,” shouted the dude from Alabama rap posse G-SIDE on stage at Beauty Bar sometime around 9pm last night, kicking Day 2 of SXSW into some other sort of high gear reserved for those blazed and bloated on free booze and proper BBQ. Wait, why the fuck am I at a hip-hop show? Wasn’t Los Aangeles DJ FRANKI CHAN of IHEARTCOMIX just spinning Ministry and Misfits like seven second ago? More importantly, where’s Fara1?
Not even gonna babble ragtime over this one, we'll just let HR and the BAD BRAINScrew do the talking. Sickest show I've seen yet here at SXSW. Day 1 recap here.
There’s already a bunch of songs written about
Alzheimer’s disease, but they’ve all been generally forgettable. Perhaps the
catchiest ditty of dementia is now the FATAL FLAW’s new single, “Narrow Hours,” which
singer/guitarist Joel Reader penned about the residents of a local
assisted-living community for Alzheimer’s patients, and especially a healthy
elderly man who visits his sick wife each day despite her increasing memory
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As mentioned in previous "Road to SXSW" posts, I'm sticking to free, unofficial, and DIY shows at SXSW this year. My week's agenda includes house shows and parking lot shows, plus some bar and venue showcases that just happen to be free and "unofficial."
Most of us are still recovering from yesterday's epic "First Contact" party -- the Phoenix's first-ever Austin day show -- but here's some highlights, with much more to come:
As I’m finishing this post from Austin, TX, our 5-day journey to SXSW is now complete. Our last two stops en route to Austin were Memphis, TN and Denton, TX. On Monday morning, we woke up in Asheville. Shane and John went exploring for a bit, while Anna and I hung at the house – she made copies of some Quilt cassettes, I put together blog post about Fredericksburg, and we made Ezekial toast with kale.
It’s early this morning, and I’m standing outside the congested Pure Volume VIP entrance when two things catch my fading attention. The text messages from Elizabeth Harper of CLASS ACTRESS, which promises she'll get me into the room of free booze and synthetic fog, and a young, hopefully-at-least-college-aged student named Brooke who has stuff painted on her face and is cute enough for me not to mind her requests for a cigarette (I don’t smoke tobacco).