South By Southwest Day Four: Los Campesinos! And British Sea Power End Things On High Note

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 four:

I arrived at the Garden Party on the picturesque grounds of the French Legation Museum in time to see the last two songs by run-of-the-mill British folk artist Laura Marling. That was enough. They were giving away bottles of 50 Cent's Vitamin Water, but beers were just a dollar.

I enjoyed Lightspeed Champion's recent Toronto show, so had no problem seeing the band again. Despite the heat, frontman Devonte Hynes was wearing his fake fur hat when he took the stage and opened with "Happy Birthday." I love his British accent, enunciation and songwriting and, though he had to change guitars mid-way through his set because of sound problems, I was thoroughly entertained by a set of acoustic guitar and violin-accompanied pop music that also included "Galaxy Of The Lost," "Tell Me What It's Worth," "Midnight Surprise" and a cover of Weezer's "Perfect Situation."

Singer Adele Bethel from Glasgow, Scotland's Sons & Daughters had the biggest fake eyelashes I've seen since that unfortunate incident with the drag queen, but she has a fine voice. Unfortunately, it was mixed too low, as was that of her male counterpart, guitarist Scott Paterson. Their slightly shoegazing indie rock was augmented with a hint of alt.country, and the rhythm section was solid. "Gilt Complex" and the dark-sounding "The Nest" were good, and "Johnny Cash" was even better.

J. Mascis was setting up his gear when I left at 4 p.m. for Bull McCabe's, a small divey Irish pub with no stage, so The Clutters played on the floor and I had to nudge the bassist aside so I could get by him to use the washroom. They have a male singer/guitarist and a female singer/drummer, and his voice is almost as high as hers. Their trashy indie rock fit in with the club's atmosphere and, though there was nothing new or innovative about it, I liked it.

I could hear Japan's very visual Peelander Z while waiting in line at the Mohawk to see Montreal's Islands. Peelander Z are more interesting to look at than listen to. Before Islands' set on the patio, I went inside for a beer and saw Winter Hinterland, a snoozy band with a soft-voiced female keyboard player, drummer, bassist and saw player. The momentum picked up a bit on the second song, but I didn't need to hear anymore and went back outside to enjoy the sunshine.

Islands opened with "The Arm," the first single from their forthcoming Arm's Way album, and it was rockier than the material from their Return To The Sea debut. "Pieces Of You" had kind of an eastern European flavour. One song started off as an atmospheric cut before a rapper came out and the tempo sped up as he rhymed. Another cut had a bit of a reggae bass line in parts, the dual violins played a bigger role, and then there was an instrumental section that sounded like "La Bamba." I look forward to the new disc, as it looks like it's shaping up to be a pretty eclectic piece of work. "This is what we used to sound like," Thorburn said before they played "Rough Gem," with its familiar melody reminiscent of Billy Joel's "We Didn't Start The Fire."

I climbed back up the hill to the Garden Party, where the crowd had grown considerably, and waited in separate lines for a port-a-potty and a couple of beers while She & Him played. Though I didn't see them, they sounded pretty good. There was a definite roots element to their pop, and the players supporting M. Ward and Zooey Deschanel were all talented. Deschanel is one of those actresses who can actually sing.

I've liked Okkervil River's albums, but have been told that they're much better live. After seeing them early Saturday evening, I wholeheartedly agree and can see why they inspire such rabid fans. The Austin sextet opened with "Westfall," "Plus Ones" had a '60s British pop vibe and a trumpet, the great "Our Life Is Not A Movie Or Maybe" had the crowd clapping along and a wash of feedback in the middle, and "For Real" got a big response. It was a short but exhilarating set that reminded me of prime Old 97's and Being There-era Wilco.

Mondo Topless' set time had changed at the Soho Lounge, so I went to Esther's Follies to see Bryan Scary & The Shredding Tears. I'd never been in the venue before, and it was more interesting than the band, as the smell of popcorn overwhelmed you when you walked in, it had theatre-style elevated seating and there was a huge mural of an underwater scene on one wall. All five members of the Brooklyn band wore matching blue garbage man jumpsuits, and two of them played keyboards. Other people seemed much more into their mix of glam, indie pop and circus music than I was, so I went up to Red Eyed Fly for Mark Pickerel & His Praying Hands. I'd seen Pickerel perform by himself with his guitar while opening for Frank Black at Toronto's Opera House two years ago, but this time he was accompanied by a second guitarist, drums, keyboards, cello and steel guitar. Though a guy walking around shining a flashlight on the floor while looking for a contact lens and an earplug was annoying, and Pickerel's music can sometimes be subtle, he effectively overcame the distraction with quality songs including "Let Me Down Easy" and "Graffiti Girl."

I stopped at the streetside Torchy's Damn Good Tacos for what I thought would be a quick burrito to sustain me through the rest of the night, but it took 25 minutes and wasted a good portion of my 9 p.m. time slot by the time I finished eating it. But I dropped into Emo's Annex to catch the last couple of songs by Detroit's The High Strung. They weren't on my original list, but they were a solid indie rock trio.

I returned to the Soho Lounge to see the rescheduled Mondo Topless set and, though I definitely wouldn't want to see any of these four older guys without shirts, their vintage garage rock with a huge Vox organ sound was a blast. These Philadelphians know how to put on a show, and I would have liked to stay around for all of it, but I had an appointment with Roky Erickson at Stubb's. His band of elder statesmen started 10 minutes late before they were introduced by the infamous Beatle Bob, who then stood at the side of the stage and danced awkwardly during the performance. Erickson is a rock ‘n' roll legend of the somewhat obscure variety, as well as a local hero and crowd favourite who received massive applause when he came on stage and after every song, including "Don't Shake Me Lucifer" and "White Faces." I left after an underwhelming slow blues rocker to see if I could catch the end of Ra Ra Riot's set at Emo's Annex, but they finished while I was still waiting in line, so I returned for more Erickson, and it was a good call. Hearing "Starry Eyes" made me very happy, Sadies bassist Sean Dean was standing in front of me and losing it for "Two Headed Dog," and things closed with the 13th Floor Elevators classic, "You're Gonna Miss Me."

I was told there was a somewhat mysterious old R&B singer named Darondo, who's apparently somewhat of a cross between Al Green and Andre Williams, who I had to see at Club De Ville. There was obviously a buzz, as there was a pretty big lineup out front. When I got in, however, there was a funk band on stage that wasn't doing anything for me. I was told after the fact that the group brought Darondo on stage later, and his handful of songs were highly amusing.

I moved on to Red 7 to see the HorrorPops and mistakenly stayed inside for a few songs by an old-school SoCal punk band called Channel 3 — who I had never heard of, and probably never will again. But some of the most violent moshing I've seen in years was happening in front of the stage, and a stout gentleman wearing an Elvis suit and wig was making the rounds. I realized that things weren't running late inside and that Los Angeles' HorrorPops were actually playing back on the patio. The psychobilly trio had two tasty gothed-out dancers/backing singers on stage with them, and they became my favourite part of the show. The HorrorPops are stylistically similar to Toronto's The Creepshow, but I prefer The Creepshow.

Los Campesinos!' Hold On Now, Youngster… full-length debut is one of my favourite albums of the year so far, and their frenetic, skittering pop really came to life on The Parish stage just after midnight. The Welsh septet (four men and three women) have both wordy songs and song titles, but all of them are delivered with zeal — particularly by Gareth Campesinos (all of them use the last name despite not being related), who told us we were all losers because we were there watching them instead of being at another club seeing Times New Viking. But I'd much rather hear "Death To Los Campesinos," "The International Tweexcore Underground," "This Is How You Spell 'HAHAHA, We Destroyed The Hopes And Dreams Of A Generation Of Faux-Romantics'" and "My Year In Lists." Their music made my tired feet want to jump up and down, and I wasn't the only one. The crowd went crazy and I could feel the floor of the second-storey club bouncing during "You! Me! Dancing!." Gareth jumped into the crowd to sing and dance during "Sweet Dreams, Sweet Cheeks," which ended a magnificent set.

There was a lineup outside of Maggie Mae's Patio to see British Sea Power, but I got in before their set started. Even better, I squeezed through the crush of people who were sardined at the front of the stage and stood comfortably on the side of the stage, which gave me a fine vantage point and made me a minor bit player in the mayhem that was about to ensue. The Brighton, England group are now a six-piece with the inclusion of a female violinist and cornet/keyboard player, and there was manic energy both on stage and in the crowd right from the beginning. They're a much better live band now than when I first saw them after their The Decline Of British Sea Power debut came out in 2003, and their new Do You Like Rock Music? album is exemplary. "Remember Me" is probably my favourite BSP song, so I was thrilled when it was played second. The audience repeatedly chanted "Easy" to introduce "No Lucifer," while "Canvey Island" and "Lights Out For Darker Skies" were both striking. Yan and Hamilton traded off on lead vocal and bass/guitar duties, and the keyboard/cornet player used me as a brace to climb up on some equipment cases. He later climbed the speakers, as did guitarist Noble, who took the added step of leaning out over the crowd while holding on to the cable that supported a light rig hanging from the ceiling, which made me fear it could come crashing down on the fans in the first few rows. It turned into a free-for-all at the end, with friends of the band jumping on stage and people riding on each other's shoulders, play-wrestling and falling over. It definitely made the fourth night of SXSW end on a high note.

I returned to our suite, where the ATG/Horseshoe/Lee's Palace owners host an annual after-hours party, but security was severely tightened this year. Cops were roaming the lobby and hotel security were only letting people with room keys into the elevator. We played musical keys for about a half-hour to sneak a few people in, but others were out of luck. At its highest point, there were maybe 12 people in attendance — unlike last year when there were more than 50. We still had the same amount of booze as in the past, however, so that was no problem. In addition to sipping on numerous beers, my friend Mira and I concocted Gatorade martinis (she also gave me a cool Screwed T-shirt that she designed), while a couple of Waco Brothers enjoyed red wine. Two of our guests had to leave for the airport at 7 a.m., so I volunteered to stay up and insure that they wouldn't miss their departure. Since I didn't have to stay up until 8:30 a.m. entertaining crazy cocaine-snorting strangers like last year, I retired at the relatively civilized hour of 7:30 a.m.