Wednesday, March 24, 2010

OBSERVATIONS FROM SXSW

It's no longer about the independent artist. It's about Motorhead, Muse and the Black Keys and the independent artists fending for themselves.

Austin's much bigger than people give it credit for being when you're on foot.

Apparently, it's okay for a shuttle driver to halt his shift with patrons in his shuttle to get Burger King and not use the drive-thru but rather leave his van in the parking lot running.

Hype can sell anything to itself. Even truly atrocious music.

I can stay up til 3AM listening to music, but only once a decade.

Barbecue. Oh, how I love thee.

Those Darlins are incredible, but be prepared for Gallegher-like projectiles if you're sitting on the front row. Sometimes that projectile is love.

The festival itself is like walking through the internet without a pop-up blocker.

I'd say that, in Texas, no steak is worth $40, however, I found one worth $38. And asparagus is dang tasty.

People still dance like idiots. Some of them are actors named Bill Murray.

People still don't bathe. Seriously, if you can afford a wristband to this festival, how can you not afford running water and a bar of soap?

I can sunburn in Texas. It hadn't happened in probably 15 years, but it did this last weekend.

Absolutely no one cares about UT basketball.

J-Bird, nice guy.

People Under the Stairs are as good live as everyone says they are. Thes One is a beast. A tad corny, but all hip hop is a tad corny these days.

I am no longer the only one that likes Stones Throw. Five years ago, that crowd would've been half the size. Good to see what they do live, though.

Moshing has certainly improved from when I was a kid. They do cartwheels now.

Waterloo is way too proud of their vinyl.

Dr. Dog is dope. Thanks, Dale and Sarah.

Kia's are maybe a better car than I gave them credit for being. Still, though, they're a Kia.

Cab rides to Dale's house cost $42.50 from I-35 and 183. Thanks for spotting me, Webbs.

I don't know their new stuff from their old stuff. You're talking to the wrong guy.

People drink entirely too much Red Bull.

Austin is a difficult city to run in. But fun.

Five days is way too long to be away from my pregnant and lovely wife.

When the industry should be at its sharpest, it dulls out and drinks until it passes out. Only the diligent, the persistant and the hungry will survive, the rest will wake up two decades from now musing on about how they "remember selling cassettes and LPs."

And, just so you know, when you wanna play me new music, don't say that you're looking for "digital to take the lead on this record" when, collectively, you're only talking to about .05% of the digital market.

And, also just so you know, digital music will not save your job. It will chop off all of the industry's access weight and fat with the accuracy of a hatchet.

Maybe I should've drank entirely too much Red Bull.

I guess people from Texas just don't know who Rap-a-Lot was. Suppose I haven't done my job.

The Root Down needs a showcase.

Mole (as in mol-e'), when done right, is straight gangsta.

When you see TV comedians on the street, they actually appear quite haunting. They look mean as all hell. Todd Barry and Doug Benson being two prime examples.

Austinites don't know how to deal with real weather.

30 minutes is the perfect length for a set. If you don't have a 30-minute version of your set, than you're not a real performer.

General Electrics are dope. Too bad only about 20 people left Austin realizing this.

The bums in Austin are actually quite nice. Largely. Few exceptions.
Never seen so many $3000 guitars under one roof. When they're all $3000, what makes them so special?

I don't wanna join Greenpeace, dude. I made a horrible mistake stopping for a second to listen to you. I should've faked a conversation on my cell. That usually works. But I don't wanna join Greenpeace. It's not that I don't believe in the ocean, but I live so far in-land, I'm not sure that I'm your target. I don't even live remotely close (I'm talking about 45 minutes) to a single body of water of any significance. Go hound someone else.

Hip hop sucks in 2010.

SXSW makes the keyboard look really fun to play!

Parking is hell in Austin and, for some reason, I feel that's truly the way they want it.

Trade shows suck. What an archaic concept.

I'm paranoid of crowds, but what sweet sound they make in unison. The low murmur of a crowd is like a symphony to my ears.

Shelby Lynne is one sexy woman. I mean that with great respect to my lovely wife. I think she would've agreed. She talks like a sailor though and gargles Lone Star.

The Lions rock my face off. Even though they weren't at their very best. They killed it.

Hate Blackberries. By the time I need one, I hope they're no more.

Not sure there's anything greater to a thirsty patron than $3 Heineken tallboys.

Dude, $10 a CD is not a "super super sweet deal," but $2.50 is maybe a little too sweet.

People still celebrate St. Patrick's Day. Who woulda known? Perhaps everyone forgot though that it's a holy day.

Sometimes it's just better to hold your pee until you get back to the hotel.

I don't know another Motorhead song besides "Ace of Spades."

Maybe that Greenpeace fella should target SXSW for all of the trees they killed for their Directory of Events. That thing is a phone book that's 35-40% advertisements for all their corporate sponsors.

People will stand in line for six hours to see the Black Keys. Namely Sarah and Dale. But, then again, they got to sit right next to them on stage. Because that's how they do it.

Next year, shave a day off.

6 comments:

Toadlift said...

Jeff, I believe you've fallen into the classic Motorhead trap. The reason you don't know any of their songs other than Ace of Spades is because there aren't any.

That song has been used in innumerable commercials, Tony Hawk video games, and sports montages through the years, creating this image in our minds that "they must be a great band, I should check out some of their other stuff." So inevitably we attempt to learn more, often venturing to their Wikipedia page, only to become distracted by reading about Lemmy. The man has multiple golf ball sized moles on his face and looks like he would smell like a homeless man, yet he's bedded thousands of women. Reading about him keeps us from ever getting around to realizing that they've never released another song. All of their albums and live shows are just Ace of Spades on an endless loop.

sarahsmile3 said...

Wonderful observations!

Did you get the mole at Jaime's? SO GOOD!
Correction- We stood in line for an hour (outside, in the cold) sand waited inside for another 4 but we got to watch bands while we waited.

We loved hanging with our Jeff. You are our favorite.

sarahsmile3 said...

*and, not sand

Anonymous said...

great read

anje said...

i think it's not enough classic,but o.k for tacle girl-girl

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