SXSW 2009: New And Old For Day Two

I'm on a quest to hear great music until the first few days of spring at the South By Southwest Music Festival in Austin, Texas, and I intend to do it without spending a penny on food. Here's the report from my second day in the live music capital of the world:

I arrived at the Bitch Magazine/Kill Rock Stars party at Club De Ville by noon to get a free and tasty cheese and egg breakfast taco. Explode Into Colors were still soundchecking, so I went next door to The Mohawk Patio to check out Telekinesis. I'd heard positive reports on them, so it was unfortunate that I only caught their last bouncy indie pop tune before they left the stage.

I went inside to see Brooklyn, N.Y. singer/songwriter Kevin Devine. He performed solo with acoustic guitar and did a bit of Leonard Cohen's "Chelsea Hotel #2" before officially starting his set. He played with a mix of subtlety, enthusiasm and passion, praised the Fuck My Life website and had intelligent lyrics, so he was alright in my book.

I returned to Club De Ville to see Portland, Ore. quartet The Shaky Hands. They played fairly aggressive guitar-based indie rock and there was nothing wrong with it — it just wasn't as good as I'd hoped it would be.

I moved on to the Paste party at Radio Room and caught a couple of songs by singer/songwriter Samantha Crain, who played acoustic while backed by the standard rock trio of instruments. She was OK, but I was really here to see Amanda Palmer outside, so I staked out a prime spot at the base of the stage and waited for the Dresden Doll to grace it.

Palmer said she was jetlagged because she'd just flown back from Australia and was "fuckin' tired." She used the word "fuck" and some of its derivations more during her brief set than any act I'll probably see this week. Palmer's an avid and entertaining blogger, and her between-song banter was as good as her songs — and I like her Who Killed Amanda Palmer solo debut more than her Dresden Dolls work.

"Ampersand" received a dramatic delivery and a huge crowd response. Palmer's solo piano take on the banned-in-the-U.K. single "Oasis" would have been better with a full band, but it was still outstanding. The happy-sounding song about date rape and abortion shows off her dark humour perfectly.

"Runs In The Family" was very good, as was her closing number. Palmer stepped out from behind the piano and away from the microphone, picked up her ukulele and played a surprisingly good cover of Radiohead's "Creep" that showcased her voice and had the crowd singing the chorus with her. She has very dedicated fans who gave her an almost overwhelming ovation at the end of her performance.

I left the bright sun and 28-degree Celsius temperature to return inside to see California's Port O'Brien, who use a two-guitar, banjo, bass and drums lineup for their alt.country music. Their live set is much more rock-leaning and less folky than their recorded output, which was very much appreciated.

I moved on to Red 7 Night Club and heard one nondescript song by solo electronic artist Max Tundra before I moved outside to see The Thermals in the packed, semi-enclosed area in the back.

They rocked with aplomb and sound bigger than a trio, and singer/guitarist Hutch Harris' slightly higher-pitched voice was a good counterpoint. Every song was a winner, but three of the highlights were "We Were Sick," "No Culture Icons" and the title track single from the Portland group's eagerly awaited and on the way new album, Now We Can See.

Brooklyn's Vivian Girls started their Maggie Mae's rooftop performance early, and guitarist Cassie Ramone broke a string on the first song I saw, so she borrowed a guitar.

The heavily-tattooed all-woman trio's "Second Date" is a great doo-woppy girl group garage rocker and was their standout tune. Some songs rocked harder than others, and Ramone's voice occasionally became atonal, so I enjoyed them, but don't know if the group are as buzzworthy as it seems to be.

Stomp And Stammer magazine editor/publisher Jeff Clark gave me a T-shirt and a ticket for a pint of Blue Moon at his party at BD Riley's, where I saw veteran Pittsburgh garage rockers The Cynics do a rare acoustic set.

I would have preferred a full-on performance, but it was still OK and the large cougar contingent in the crowd seemed to enjoy it. The Coathangers, a young female band who were sitting beside me, borrowed my pen to revise their set list. I didn't stick around to hear the result of it, though.

I had VIP backstage access at the Canadian Blast party, so there was an open bar and a buffet. I helped myself to barbecued chicken, baked beans, potato salad, cole slaw, pickles, onions and hot peppers. Mother Mother was on stage, but I was talking, eating and drinking and didn't pay much attention.

I went across the street to the Convention Center's SESAC stage to see California's Princeton. The young group had bass, guitar and keyboards, but just used a drum machine, which disappointed me. They have some decent lightweight pop tunes, but didn't come across as well live as on record, resulting in a bit of a letdown and a very subdued audience response.

The annual Horseshoe Tavern dinner at the Green Mesquite BBQ had a lower than average turnout and, surprisingly, more Americans than Canadians in attendance. A keg of Shiner Bock (my SXSW default beer, just like 50 at home) was at our disposal along with a buffet.

I stuffed myself with free barbecued turkey, beef, ribs and sausage as well as some delicious corn on the cob, cole slaw, pickles and onions. There was quite a bit of meat left over, which was packed up and is now sitting in our hotel suite fridge. I like it when a plan comes together and things like that fall into my lap.

Dinner finished late, so I missed my 8 p.m. slot. I went to Maggie Mae's at 8:30 to see The Besties. They did nothing for too long, so I crossed the street to Friends Bar at 8:45 to see New Zealand's Cut Off Your Hands.

The club was full to hear the young quartet's rambunctious, hight-tempo indie rock with a touch of jangly guitar. I was looking forward to seeing them, but they didn't quite live up to my expectation. But I'll likely give them another shot with a full set when they come up to Toronto.

I went to B.D. Riley's Irish Pub to see The Cheek, who thankfully just shortened their name from Cheeky Cheeky And The Nosebleeds. They were still messing around with soundcheck (they're British, after all), so I went next door to Friends Bar to see Edinburgh, Scotland band Come On Gang!

They have a female singer/drummer and male guitarist/bassist, and played "Coffee Shop," which was OK. I didn't like them nearly as much as what I'd heard online, so I returned to check out The Cheek.

The young quintet like to move around, which made the tiny stage very cramped. Their "You Let Me Go" single was really good, as was "Give Me Your Hand." I like The Cheek's energy and potential. They left everything they had on the small stage, which is what I like to see in a young band.

I quickly checked out Thee Headliners (who I'd seen hanging out at Beerland the night before) and Capsula at Habana Bar's front and back venues, but neither of them attracted me, so I left to stand in line outside Emo's to see The Circle Jerks.

I've had conversations with the band's singer, Keith Morris, at music industry conferences in the past. But I'd never seen his band and, after watching American Hardcore again recently, I felt I should pay my respects to my punk elders. Morris was joined on stage by guitarist Greg Hetson, bassist Zander Schloss and drummer Kevin Fitzgerald for a set of vintage American hardcore punk.

Every song was quick and to the point, and Morris at one instance claimed he was a 53-year-old with a 16-year-old running around inside him — somewhat similar to the younger King Khan, who I spotted in the crowd.

"We're here for 30 songs, and we're not going away until they tell us to leave," Morris said.

It was no idle boast, as their set extended to 70 minutes and included "All Wound Up," "Room 13," "I Just Want Some Skank," "Beverly Hills," "Wild In The Streets," "Junk Mail," "Coup D'Etat" and "Gimme Gimme Gimme." There was also a surprising cover of The Soft Boys' "I Wanna Destroy You," but unfortunately no "American Heavy Metal Weekend," "Golden Shower Of Hits" or Schloss doing a solo rendition of "Salsa Y Ketchup."

I had planned on seeing another punk veteran, Husker Du drummer/singer Grant Hart, but my trusted friend Daryl Brothers told me he saw Hart play three songs in the afternoon before he had to leave — he walked out because he was saddened by how bad Hart looked. I heeded his advice and didn't go.

I crossed the interstate to a new and difficult-to-find venue called The Independent, which looks like a converted studio. The large space looked quite empty with the small audience that gathered for Light FM. "Black Magic Marker" was the song that twigged me on to them, and the expansive yet catchy indie rock cut was much better than anything else the group did.

I was heading back downtown when I passed The Music Gym Patio and heard a punky version of Billy Bragg's "New England" that caught my attention. I went in and saw a young and in-your-face rock band called Roll The Tanks that were better than a few other things I'd seen earlier. This is the kind of new punk I like.

I was surprised to see no lineup when I arrived at Vice, but it was packed inside for Peter Bjorn And John. I caught their last two songs, including "Nothing To Worry About," and enjoyed them both. But I talked to a friend at the back of the club who said the first part of their set was plagued with sound problems. And no, they didn't do "Young Folks."

Glasvegas were supposed to go on at 11:45 p.m., but didn't start until 50 minutes later. But I didn't have a must-see act at midnight, I was chatting with people and a bar was nearby, so it wasn't an interminable wait. I wanted to see if the Scottish group live up to the hype they've been receiving on the other side of the Atlantic.

I heard shades of David Bowie and Echo & The Bunnymen in their majestic-sounding rock. The band didn't really move, there was little crowd interaction and people started leaving mid-set. One song opened with a lot of fuzzy noise, a bit like The Jesus And Mary Chain. But unlike that band, Glasvegas lacked the know-how to turn it into a great song, though they gave it a good shot and it was a set highlight. I joined the outflux.

Since Lux Interior died earlier this year, I felt I should see former Cramps guitarist Kid Congo Powers at Emo's Jr. as some form of paying my respects. Powers now sings as well and has a distinctive voice that adds a different element to his pretty hard-rockin' band. The audience increased as he made his way through the instrumental "Black Santa" and "Yeti," and he informed us he has a new album coming out next week.

While I liked Powers, I wanted to see if I could use the back door route into Emo's to see Echo & The Bunnymen. They started at 12:30 a.m. and I didn't get in until 55 minutes later. But I avoided the lineup outside and being subjected to Juliette Lewis, which I would have been had I stayed after The Circle Jerks, so it all worked out well.

I arrived for some of my favourites, including "All That Jazz," "The Killing Moon" and "The Cutter." Ian McCulloch is a confident and mannered frontman, and the band behind him smoked. The packed house demanded an encore and got it. "Nothing Lasts Forever" morphed into Lou Reed's "Walk On The Wild Side," and there was also the slowest version of Wilson Pickett's "In The Midnight Hour" I've ever heard.

McCulloch had been smoking throughout his set and he kicked his pack of smokes into the audience at the beginning of "Lips Like Sugar," which perhaps unsurprisingly (but mildly disappointingly) got the biggest response of the night. But it was very well done, and The Bunnymen presented a great way to cap off and save a hit-and-miss night of music.

I returned to our hotel suite to find former Plimsouls guitarist and current Magic Christian bassist Eddie Munoz telling tales of his rock 'n' roll life. I grabbed a surprisingly smooth, easy-drinking, chocolatey 10.8%-alcohol Lobotomy Bock from the fridge and settled behind my computer to work and listen. I hit the couch at 4:30 a.m.

Amount spent on food (booze doesn't count) after two days: $0.