Baby's First South by Southwest: An Introduction

I'm staring at a computer screen, my eyes bleary, my bones aching. We've stopped in a hotel in someplace called Arkadelphia at 3AM to get a few hours rest before continuing our drive. It's Sunday, and South by Southwest has just ended, queuing our departure from Austin, Texas. Tomorrow we'll continue the journey to Ohio, where I'll spend a few days doing absolutely nothing with my parents, and it will feel great after the glut of free shows, free beer, free food, and general debauchery that made up my first year at SXSW.

For now, I'm just trying to wrap my head around the whole of it. After having decided I would have to miss it again this year, things kept falling into place and suddenly there I was, standing on Texas soil, a balmy breeze ruffling my hair, wild with curls in the humidity. The week flew by in a blur and now all that remains is a sore throat and indelible tinnitus, a few LPS and some free beer cozies.

I can't say that I didn't have expectations for the week. Some of them held up and some of them didn't. I knew I wouldn't get to see all of the showcases I had initially planned to attend, though all told I probably wound up missing only a few acts I really would have loved to see. I found myself constantly having to choose – do I go to Club DeVille for Pictureplane or Flamingo Cantina for Tennis? - and making decisions based on whether I'd already seen the bands in NYC, how epic I thought the performances would be, if the RSVP policy would be lax enough to sneak past the gate, whether I'd have to brave the morass of 6^th Ave, and how many points I'd get on FourSquare for checking into a new venue. Oh, and whether or not I could drink for free once I got there.

I didn't really get the hang of it until midweek, by which time I was cramming in at least seven performances a day, catching free Chevys and dodging pedicab drivers like I was born to do it. But some of the best moments came early in the week, when my lack of SXSW know-how introduced me to the whole shebang in a more relaxed manner and I let everything come to me instead of breaking my neck to take in all I could. Those moments included a jamboree with some neighbors who sang Buddy Holly's “Everyday” by my request, a family BBQ way East of the action (I had to ride in the back of a pickup truck full of gear to get downtown afterward), learning to throw knives, peacock spotting, and three very random conversations I had as I juiced my phone at the Whole Foods solar charging station.

meeting the locals

During one of those conversations, I pondered with a fellow blogger as to whether SXSW could really happen in any other city. The answer we came up with was an unequivocal NO. It's not a big town, but its size is to its advantage; it makes it walkable, bikeable, accessible. The weather is gorgeous (or at least was the week I was in town) and its residents incredibly accommodating and personable. But the feature of Austin that really makes it uniquely suited to a festival like SXSW is that it pulses – practically every bar has a patio, which means practically every bar has the potential to host two and sometimes three bands at once. You can walk through almost any part of town and hear music happening all around you, coming from every direction. As you walk down the street, there are buskers, puppeteers, old men with fiddles and accordions and bongos performing in the middle of the street, school buses converted into mobile venues, storefronts housing DJs, and on and on and on. Literally everywhere you look, someone is vying for the chance to entertain you. While it seems like this would be overwhelming, the energy is intoxicating. It carries you as if caught in a current, and it's difficult not to be swept away.

In between the bands I made a point to see and the bands I knew I was doomed to miss, there were a handful of bands I saw inadvertently, many of which blew me away. Some of these performances were among my favorite. Therein lies the beauty of a thing like SXSW – it's easy to make a mile-long list of bands that are familiar but hard to see everyone on it, and while scurrying from one end of town to the next or waiting in line for admittance into a venue that's already at capacity it's easy to forget that the opportunity is there to be introduced to completely new acts. But that potential for discovery is what SXSW is all about, is why this festival draws acts from all over the globe and thousands upon thousands of fans.

warriors beneath dusky skies

So what follows, dear readers, is my SXSW diary, a chronological account of everything that made the week so memorable. I think if there's anything this blog truly showcases, it's a passion for existing in the thick of musical experience. For the fuzzy areas of my memory, there are videos and pictures to fill in the gaps, and my hope is that the amalgamation of the three will somehow communicate every thrill, every joy, every moment that made the week worth documenting.

AF MIXTAPE: Farewell to Winter

This mix represents some of the best moments of February in terms of new releases and live shows we attended but keeps an eye on the springtime that's just ahead of us.  You won't find many bombastic summer jams, but hopefully that delicious first blush of warmer weather permeates these tracks.  Enjoy!

nomorewinter / notquitespring from tiny_owl on 8tracks.

Mi & L'au – Limouzine: I once saw this band play in a treehouse. Technically I guess it was a room situated around a huge tree, with a bar situated around that. Still, there was a tree! And their songs sounded like the kind of music you might hear in a treehouse (treehousewave?). If Beauty Is A Crime is the first new album they've put out in a while and at moments it retains an isolated-in-the-woods vibe, here Mi & L'au are branching out into lots of new territories. This track, with its pulsing, sparkling synths is a great example of those explorations.

Chairlift – I Belong In Your Arms: Caroline Polachek must be taking cues from those she's collaborated with (Washed Out, Guards) in the interim between releasing Something and 2008's Does You Inspire You? Or perhaps it's just the difference between putting some thought into making a record instead of slapping one together because one of your tracks has been featured in an iPod commercial and you need to capitalize on it instantly. Either way, Chairlift's new record is a gem filled with soaring new wave declarations, but far less naïve and hokey than its predecessor.

Lapalux – Moments: On this crackling beat collage, female vocals (provided by Py) coo “I keep thinking of you”; likewise, this track is just the kind of earworm that sticks with you all day. Cascading drum machines, dissonant bells, spacey synths, and tweaked, slowed effects blend seamlessly. It might not get a party going, but acts as a perfect anthem for those still coming down after the majority of the crowd has shuffled off.

James Blake – The Wilhelm Scream: After seeing a live rendition of this at Carnegie Hall last month, I've been listening to this track incessantly. Its slow gorgeous build behind Blake's velvety crooning is almost too much to handle. It seems so sparse on first listen, but every time it slips into the rotation, I hear something new come out of it, proving its density and depth.

School of Seven Bells – Scavenger: We'll always wonder if this scathing track is about the departure of half of SVIIB's singing twin duo, but it could just as easily be about an ex-lover, or an animal that feeds on carrion, I guess. They're doing just fine without any or all of the above, as new album Ghostory and the live shows they've played to promote it prove.

Xiu Xiu – Smear The Queen: I am ecstatic that this band is still putting out amazing albums after twelve years of making records. The first single from Always, entitled “Hi” is as bold a flirting anthem as they come, and almost made it onto this mix – until I heard “Smear The Queen” and was blown away by the dual vocals, haywire beats

Hanne Hukkelberg – My Devils: If you're still confusing Hanne with her Scandinavian counterpart Lykke Li based on the extraordinary prevalence of the letter K in their names, please take a moment to realize that this is where the comparison ends. Featherbrain is far more experimental, representing Hukkelberg more as an artist than provocateur. Listening to this track is like opening a creepy haunted music-box, her vocals a yearning Pandora struggling to be free of her demons.

Frankie Rose – The Fall: I seriously can't stop listening to or talking about this song. The other day I was walking through the park at dusk with this on my headphones, trying to decipher the ethereal layers of lyrics. Every time I pinned down a line, the next popped up in its place, a mirage shimmering on the aural horizon, superimposed by the next hallucination.

Grimes – Vowels = space and time: Visions is an amalgamation of everything that is awesome about Claire Boucher – bizzaro bedroom pop with Chippettes-esque vocals, long-lost Goth Olsen twin look, deep philosophical musings disguised by a half-baked twitter feed, a not-so-secret obsession with divas of the early 90's R&B scene. Check out my video below of Grimes performing “Genesis” last July in an opening set for Washed Out.

Shlohmo – wen uuu: With last year's Bad Vibes, L.A. Producer Henry Laufer strayed from the staid hip-hop beats of his earlier work and live shows and began exploring more atmospheric sounds and experimental textures. On his three track EP Vacation, we can hear him coming through static and into his own with undeniable success.

Still Corners – Don't Fall In Love: Tessa Murray has a voice like honey, making her forlorn love songs (or anti-love songs?) that much more heart-rending. This noise pop slow-burner isn't going to do much to warn me away from falling in love with this band, no matter what the lyrics recommend.

Phèdre – In Decay: This whole album is brilliant. You know that sexy orgy party that Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman attend in Eyes Wide Shut? Parties similar to those actually exist, except everyone is as creepy and lonely as you'd expect, and therefore it isn't at all sexy. If those parties were that sexy, but also more hip, this album would be the soundtrack.

Tennis – My Better Self: Much like Chairlift, husband-and-wife duo Tennis have truly matured with the release of their second album. Last year's Cape Dory was fun, but with Young & Old, Tennis have gotten more introspective while retaining that carefree pop sound.

Sharon Van Etten – Magic Chords: When Because I Was In Love was released in 2009, almost no one knew who Sharon Van Etten was. Two albums later, all that has changed. It makes sense, considering that Sharon has one of the most gorgeous voices I've heard in quite a while. Her songwriting skills continue to improve with each effort, though the heavier production on 2010's Epic and her newest, Tramp, is a bit of a detriment to some of the intimacy and grittiness from her first record.

Tropics – Sleepless: Tropics is the project of Chris Ward, who at 22 has been steadily self-releasing an onslaught of party-ready jams and remixes. This track is a bit more mellow than most of his offerings but it the signature lushness of Ward's beats are still present. If most of his tunes signify summer, Sleepless unfurls just the way spring does – suddenly you look up, and there are buds in all the trees and birds are chirping.

Cate Le Bon – Put to Work: Le Bon's impeccable new album Cyrk is exemplified by lead single “Put To Work”; it's lilting guitars and insistent drums perfectly anchor the commanding mystic quality of Le Bon's vocals. The lyrics fit handily into Le Bon's work as well - the idea that while one can't help but crave human intimacy, love is a total drag that turns us into awful drones. But the beauty of this sentiment is that she's resigned to this fact, never chiding or bitter, and the song rolls on with a fluid, perfect grace.

Yann Tiersen – I'm Gonna Live Anyhow: Perhaps best known for his original soundtracks to films like Amelie and Good Bye Lenin!, last year's Skyline saw Tiersen reinventing himself once more. Ever the pioneer, these tracks feature quirky electronic moments and unique vocal rhythms reminiscent at times of acts like Animal Collective.

Songs of Green Pheasant – Teen Wolf: I've long been a fan of Songs of Green Pheasant. The somber brass in this track really puts it over the edge for me, though I don't know what it has to do with teens, wolves, or teen wolves.

Sleigh Bells – End of the Line: With Treats, Sleigh Bells were poised to take over the world (and pretty much did so) and on Reign of Terror, the only thing they really have to contend with is the curse of the sophomore slump. With their trademark fearlessness, Alexa Krauss and Derek Miller have done something completely unexpected – they've scaled back the in-your-face guitar blitz and badder-than-though posturing and crafted something that still manages to pack quite the punch. This track is the perfect example of that new vision, wherein Krausss is no longer striving to remain cool or detached but is actually reaching out to the listener, or at least the person to whom the song is addressed, in an engaging way. Reign of Terror is studded with similar moments of realness, and it's the most brave, refreshing move they could have made.

Shhhh – Bonus Track: This is what she heard in the bathtub. RIP.

Six Songs for Your Sweetheart

Happy Valentine's Day from AudioFemme!  Thus far we've gotten some excellent feedback and would LOVE some more if you've got a few seconds to email us and let us know what you think, what you'd like to see more of, and - oh, yes! - submit something.


If you need some inspiration, we've got our first submission RIGHT HERE!  It comes to you from Jessica Darakjian, a self-described 23-year-old grandma living and working in Brooklyn, NY.  Currently she is getting ready to move back to California where she will partake in her favorite pastimes - riding a bike, gardening, making pickles and pies, surfing, going to flea markets, and listening to country tapes with her grandpa.


Personally, we think she could do most of these things just fine and still stay in New York, but she will not be convinced.
Enjoy! - Eds.

Is it just me or does anyone else wish Ye Olde Valentine's Day was celebrated a little different? How, you might ask, could I ever dislike chocolate boxes, cutesy cards, hearts and bows, fancy dinners, pretty dresses and shoes, lots of flowers, and maybe jewelry (if you’re uh, rich)?  Well I don’t. I’m not saying I would refuse any of those things if they were handed over to me. But, I am saying that most likely I would love you, dear, a bit longer and harder if you approached this holiday a little differently… Can’t a girl get a mix tape in this day and age?  It’s all I want. Honest. Just to hold the little shitty piece of plastic in my hand and know it took you 45 fucking minutes to get the cut right so the tape didn’t run out in the middle of our favorite song. Can’t I listen to it over and over, until I know exactly how many seconds are between the click of the needle setting down to the actual beginning of each song? Everyone remembers how fucking special this is, we all know how much heart goes into it. From a friend or lover, there is no doubt that mixtapes are just, ya know, absolutely honest. So Happy Merry New Kind of Valentine's Day - here are some songs I’m playing for my sweetie pie.



(One of my favorite videos. I wish I could dance like her. But honestly, Catherine should have just chosen Heathcliff and then none of the crazyness would have been necessary, right?)



(Even though you and I both can't stand to look at that fucking blue hat this weirdo is wearing, you cannot try to tell me this song didn’t melt your heart when you were/are in your rebel high school loser stage)

(Best scene from Rock 'n' Roll High School. Makes me all googley)

(off the most played record I own. “I need it everyday")

(I can tell by the way you dress, that you’re real fine) 

(awww, Miss Cora, you are a lucky lady)


Feel free to give Jessica some L O V E.

i know what you did last year.

For some, 2011 was just a year where seemingly every other girl/gay man in Brooklyn decided to shave a random swath of hair down to the scalp. But for me, it was a collection of moments that have inspired me to whole-heartedly evaluate the way I experience music and actually make something out of my passion.

i know what you did last year.
a collection of tracks representing the highlights of a year's worth of live events.
by tiny_owl on 8tracks.
click band names in the text for youtube videos of select performances!

My meditations on this began out of a repugnance for getting older. I had tickets to see Washed Out with openers Blood Orange and Grimes, but the night of the show, a Monday, everyone bowed out, citing the old “have to be up early for work” excuse. It dawned on me that while I was still serving tacos in a tiny Mexican restaurant, these people, my friends, had careers, and that these careers were so important that they could not waste hours of sleep to see a once-in-a-lifetime lineup play to a packed house, everyone with dancing shoes on. I wrangled a friend who, like myself, had few daytime responsibilities, or at the very least could handle being a bit sleepy the next day. We had a phenomenal time, but even so I was bummed. Was I somehow immature or unaccomplished because I enjoyed this sort of thing? On Thursday, a heart-to-heart with a friend who had bailed resulted in the following conclusion: the two of us were at different places in our lives, and apparently I was not the adult.

The thing is, it didn't really matter to me. If being an adult meant forgoing unexpected Bastille Day fireworks over the Hudson after a free tUnE-yArDs performance so that I could efficiently alphabetize files in a cubicle for a steady paycheck, then I was content to sling salsa for at least a few more years. I wouldn't trade losing my shit over those first haunting strains of Dirty Beaches' “Lord Knows Best” billowing through Glassland's papery clouds to change a dirty diaper, because Alex Zhang Hungtai is the coolest dude who ever lived, and that night he vowed to “croon the fuck out” which is exactly what happened.

I wouldn't want to miss the chance to jump on the Music Hall of Williamsburg stage for Star Slinger's closing cut “Punch Drunk Love” or to witness Phil Elvurum on the altar of the gorgeous St. Cecilia's church, his soft voice reverberating angelically around the cathedral. Or to have folk hero Michael Gira kiss my hand after the Swans show, which was the loudest, sweatiest, and single most transcendent rock-n-roll experience I'd ever had. Nor would I miss the incredible stage set-up as it virtually came alive to Animal Collective's Prospect Park set, even as the heat and hallucinogens caused teenagers all around me to pass out. Had I not decided on a whim just a day before the show, I would never have seen Dam-Funk shred a key-tar as we sailed around Manhattan on a ferry, the sun setting against the Brooklyn Bridge and the Statue of Liberty waving her torch over the deck. I braved the pollution of the Gowanus Canal to see a Four Tet DJ in a garden that managed to be verdant despite all the toxins pulsing through the ground.

This was my fourth year at CMJ, and it stands as one of my favorite events because in that moment, you're right with those fledgling acts, waiting to see a performance that will build their buzz or totally break them. This year, at a Trash Talk performance replete with band members flinging themselves from balconies, a friend of mine well into her twenties found herself in a circle pit for the very first time. Later that week, I watched Pat Grossi of Active Child strum a person-sized harp, its strings practically glowing as they vibrated against his fingertips.

Fiercely loving music is one thing that doesn't get boring for me. As I age, it doesn't get old. Seeing a Party of Helicopters reunion performance at Death By Audio in February proved that. I used to see them religiously when I lived in Ohio. In my veins was the same blood that was present when I was twenty, and every muscle, every cell, remembered what to do – I damn near gave myself whiplash, working myself into a frenzy.

And despite spending hours researching obscure bands for music supervision projects I freelance, I still discover bands just by attending shows. While dancing my ass off at the 100% Silk Showcase at Shea Stadium, I discovered a whole label's worth of material harkening back to club jams of the nineties, and the Amanda Brown vs. Bethany Cosentino debate was forever settled in my mind in favor of the LA Vampires frontwoman; Brown is a visionary while Cosentino is just cute.

In roughly fifteen years of attending rock concerts, I'd say I had the best one yet. I've decided that since growing up is not worth the trade-off of giving up live music, or changing the way I experience the music that I love, that I will have to marry the two. While this trajectory began years ago, this is the first time I've felt any sort of mission behind the fandom. I am the person people call and ask “are there any good shows going on tonight?”, the person with extra tickets who drags friends along to see bands they haven't heard of, the person who brings a huge group of old friends together for a show, the person who barring all that will go to a show alone and still have a blast. I am one of the thousands of people who log on to Ticketmaster at 9:55am for Radiohead tickets and still won't get any. I'm the person at the front of the crowd, snapping a few quick pictures for those who couldn't make it, and then dancing like a thing possessed for the rest of the set. For me, it's dedication. It's all part of being someone who was there.