SXSW Day One: Lily Allen Calls NME The C-Word

ChartAttack News Editor Steve McLean is in the midst of his annual pilgrimage to the South By Southwest Music Festival in Austin, Texas. Here's his report from day one:

AUSTIN, Texas — Catching up on things I had been too busy to do during Canadian Music Week, various work commitments and South By Southwest music preparation meant I had three hours sleep on Monday night and didn't go to bed on Tuesday before catching my 7 a.m. Wednesday flight to Austin. So I was pretty much running on adrenaline for all of the first day and night of the festival. Luckily, there was enough good music to help fuel that adrenaline.

I arrived at The Mohawk at 2:30 p.m., just in time to hear Teitur strum his guitar and sing softly for one song. That was all I needed. He's the biggest music star from the Faroe Islands, but so what.

After getting a smile from a sign at the bar that said, "Tip well or Jared Leto will break your nose," Champaign, Ill.'s Headlights came on the outside stage. The female singer/keyboardist had a Bjork-like voice, but the band's material rocked more than any of the Icelandic pixie's recent works. The guitarist exchanged his axe for an accordion on one song, which was a nice touch, but it was buried so low in the mix that it was pretty much inaudible. There was nothing particularly distinctive about the Headlights' danceable and fairly melodic indie rock, but they got a thumbs up.

I went back inside the club for local group Peter And The Wolf. It was too crowded to get a good look at the stage, but there was a lead singer/acoustic guitarist and about eight men and women singing. I also heard some tambourine and some minimalist drumming. It was kind of old-timey and southern and didn't do much for me, so I was off.

I heard something coming out of Room 710 as I passed by, so I went in to see Gravy Boat. The two singer/guitarists looked to be in their forties and they'll never be anything more than a bar band, but they played some high-energy rock 'n' roll influenced by both country and surf, and they kicked some ass while doing it.

After picking up my delegate badge and goodie bag at the convention centre, I went across the street to Brush Park for the Canadian Blast party and arrived in time for the introduction of Montreal sextet Young Galaxy. They traded female and male vocals and had a lot more fire live than on CD, and impressed me enough that I'd see them again, but this day there was a unique option that I'll probably never see again that drew me back to the convention centre.

Legendary producer Joe Boyd was telling stories and reading excerpts from his book, White Bicycles, while the brilliantly eccentric Robyn Hitchcock added the musical component. Boyd had interesting tales of his experiences with The Byrds, Bob Dylan, the Incredible String Band, Pink Floyd and Nick Drake, and Hitchcock complemented him by playing solo acoustic covers of their respective songs. An interesting experience and a history lesson at the same time. I'm glad that I didn't pass it up.

I went back to the Canadian Blast party for a free margarita — my first drink of the day, I held off 'til 5 p.m. — and to hear Luke Doucet and Melissa McClelland. Doucet's a great guitarist and the couple's voices, in combination with drums and a stand-up bass, made for a really nice combination of torch and twang.

It was then on to the annual Horseshoe Tavern/ATG Concerts party at The Green Mesquite. It was a smaller turnout than usual, with about 50 people in attendance, but that was cool since it meant easy access to the buffet of multiple meats, sides and the keg of Shiner Bock. There was food left over so, since I'm staying with the party hosts while I'm here, it looks like I'll be doing some late night meat-eating in the near future.

We arrived at The Parish just as Charlie Louvin began singing "Must You Throw Dirt In My Face." The 79 year old first made his name with his late brother Ira as the Louvin Brothers, who were inducted into the Country Music Hall Of Fame in 2001. Louvin has been cited as an influence for many alt.country acts, and Elvis Costello, Will Oldham, Jeff Tweedy and members of Clem Snide, Bright Eyes and Lambchop guest on his new album, Dig. None of them were in attendance, unfortunately, but his female guitarist acted as his vocal foil on such songs as "Cash On The Barrelhead" and "Great Atomic Power."

He has an old man's voice, but it suits the repertoire. Louvin is a living legend who's probably near the end of his career and isn't likely to play Toronto anytime soon, so it was a half-hour well spent.

I went downstairs to The Parish II to see Elemeno P, who are quite popular in their native New Zealand. Their "1157" is one of my favourite songs of the moment, and live it was more raw and less poppy than on record. The punk and new wave-influenced quintet lapsed into more generic alt.rock territory for one song, but then returned to form. They were pretty good, but not great.

A couple doors down were Portugal's X-Wife. The best of the dance-punk quartet's two songs that I stayed for had a similar melody to The Undertones' "Teenage Kicks." Across the street at the Soho Lounge, Diamond Bar, Calif.'s Goldenboy were holding court. They played a Motorbike cover and were rockier than I was expecting. The singer's voice at times sounded like Morrissey, which led to obvious but not unwarranted Smiths comparisons.

I returned to The Parish to see a comely young lass named Sunny Sweeney, who owes a large debt to traditional country music but has some contemporary spunk. Her set blended honky-tonk and rock 'n' roll and included a cover of Wanda Jackson's "Rockabilly Fever."

As I was walking down 6th St., Austin's main music thoroughfare, two women representing Trojan gave me a handful of condoms. While I told them that I wasn't sure if I was worthy of the magnum size, I eagerly took them anyway.

The schedule had apparently been changed at Club De Ville, so The Nice Boys weren't playing when I expected. So I stayed around for two songs by Greg Ashley And The Medicine Fuck Dream Road Show, a quartet that blended rootsy and psychedelic rock and had a bit of a bite.

I went to Emo's IV to see Loney, Dear, but they were running behind schedule so I went next door to Emo's to check out Beirut. But they were taking way too long with their soundcheck so I got fed up and left early to go to Stubb's to make sure that I got in to see Lily Allen as part of an NME-sponsored night.

After a short wait, I got in to see the last few songs from Jamie T. He performed very British-centric rap-pop that, unlike Mike Skinner's Streets, owes more to indie rock than hip-hop. I had heard one recorded song before and wasn't moved, but I liked him live.

Stubb's is an outdoor venue that holds more than 1,000 people, and it was packed. I got to about 10 metres in front of the stage, right in the middle, so was happy with my vantage point as I sipped my Lone Star and waited for Allen's arrival. The wait was 15 minutes longer than it should have been, but she arrived on stage with a Budweiser in one hand and a cigarette (which wouldn't be her last of the night) in the other as she opened with "LDN" and instantly had the crowd singing along. Her music has a much stronger reggae vibe live and, while Alright, Still was one of my favourite albums of last year, I'm a reggae-head so I was cool with that.

There were drums, bass and keyboards, but no guitar. But the trumpet, trombone and saxophone added a lot.

"I'm a little bit drunk because it's 11 o'clock and I've been drinking most of the day," Allen said while giggling, before launching into a tirade against NME. "Fuck off you cunts," she said of the British music tabloid, before adding that its editor had the smallest penis in the world. She stated that she had just learned that day that NME was sponsoring the show and that she would have pulled out if she had found out sooner.

"Everything's Just Wonderful" was next, followed by "Friday Night," which had fans skanking. She said that she was bored with "Smile," but would try to get enthused for it because it was her first performance in Texas. She showed off more of her singing talent on the U.K. chart-topper and the next song, "Alfie," before thanking the crowd and walking off the stage. The 25-minute set was too short, but it was the highlight of the night. It seemed that was the case with a lot of people, as there was a large exodus before Razorlight's set. Including me.

I love Hugh Cornwell's recently released three-CD People Places Pieces collection, and I hadn't seen him for a number of years, so I stopped into Elysium for some of his solo acoustic set. The former Stranglers frontman said that he played in Austin with his old band so long ago that local hero Willie Nelson didn't have a beard at the time. He was plagued with sound problems, but opened with The Stranglers' "No More Heroes" before playing "Land Of 1,000 Kisses" from his Elysium Fields album.

I left to go to BD Riley's to see Austin roots-rock quartet, The Black. Their songs were solid and they were very competent players, plus they really cut loose on the last song. But perhaps an even better discovery was Leinenkugel's Sunset Wheat, a refreshing beer with a hint of apricot that I'll be on the lookout for the rest of the week.

I went to catch the last few songs by Voxtrot at Emo's Jr., but there was a lineup that wasn't moving. I figured that I could get into Stubb's to see The Bravery, but might have to wait in line a while to do so. And since I had no back-up plan bands in the vicinity, I instead decided to go to The Blender Bar to see Sahara Hot Nights. But upon arrival, I found out that they were no longer on the bill.

I returned to BD Riley's, where the crowd had filled out, but I still found a seat in front of the stage and ordered another Sunset Wheat. Raleigh, N.C.'s Patty Hurst Shifter are a four-piece roots-rock band that have earned raves from Ryan Adams and some of my online musical pals, and the few songs that I had heard previously were impressive. They were OK, but didn't excite me, which ultimately made them a disappointment since my expectations were pretty high. Still, they redeemed themselves at the end of the night with a balls out cover of Neil Young's "Mr. Soul."

It was 2 a.m. and the music was over, so I returned to the hotel for a nightcap and to tap into other hotel guests' iTunes playlists via wi-fi. I hit the bed at 4 a.m. I'll check back Friday with Thursday's report.