SXSW 2011 Wednesday

I woke up feeling awful probably due to my 5am bedtime. This week is clearly going to kill me. At around 12:30pm I rode my bike to Waterloo Records to catch Morning Teleportation. They’re a young band with a lot of heart. For some reason they’ve got that psychedelic thing going on mixed with a style of folk punk. Isaac Brock from Modest Mouse signed MT to his label, Glacial Pace.

Across the street from Waterloo is Whole Foods, so I went over there to try to score some free food. It was a meager lunch, but a third of a mango, some cinnamon chips, and bread would have to get me through the next few hours. I had some time to kill before the next band I wanted to see, so I headed over to Red 7 to get in to the Terrorbird day party. Inside, Rainbow Arabia was playing. They are an Arabian music inspired group made up of a female singer/instrumentalist and a male electronic percussionist.

Next, I went to Fado, an Irish themed pub on Fourth Street. There, I was hoping to catch Alcoholic Faith Mission, a Danish band. I sat through some terrible acts as I waited for the stylish six to finally start playing. Instead, it was announced that their set had been cancelled as a result of the venue being an hour behind. Welcome to SXSW, AFM. That would have been their first performance at the festival ever.

To combat my disappointment I headed to the KVRX hip hop show, held at Cream Vintage. I figured I had missed Phil Ade’s set by at least an hour, yet when I asked around people said he hadn’t even played. The word on the street was that he would show up eventually. Some rapper from Maryland, Logic?, tried to hype up the crowd with the worst rhyming I’ve ever heard. His flow was pretty good, but not creative at all, too predictable, too “I’m an angry mixed kid trying to live in a white man’s world.” Thank god for Phil Ade. I was so sure that Wednesday was going to turn out to be the worst day ever, when he finally took the stage. Ade blew everyone away with sick beats and even sicker spit. Both acts are from 368 Music Group.

After a brief refueling session at my house, I was back in action again attempting to find my friend downtown. It is a foolhardy task to walk a bike through these insane almost riot-like sized crowds. But somehow I found him and we went to the Lose Control party at Vice for a hot minute. Vice is sort of a joke to most people. It’s this 18 and up dance club with three dancing levels advertised. Basically, dudes go there to get some jailbait. Luckily it was 21 and up for Wednesday night. We watched some hipster band who had funny haircuts and really loud flashy music.

My friend, Russell, isn’t into that kind of thing, so we briefly went to the HM Magazine free show to see Christian hardcore. Oddly enough, the band who was playing is called Before There Was Rosalyn and some of its members are from my hometown. They say they’re from Houston, because it’s way cooler than saying you’re from Lake Jackson. Maybe some day a musician will own up to have lived in a suburban paradise. Anyway, the performance was pretty crazy. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen a Christian band live, but they’re constantly making worship signs and cult-like gestures. The music was hard, I guess. The crowd was moshing a bit, which is a really annoying display of masculinity.

At the end of a really long line, we saw some friends and asked who the hell they were waiting to see. Apparently The Black Lips were going to play at Emo’s in a few hours and they were just gonna wait all night. We decided that was a dumb way to spend time, so we biked across the highway to catch a presumably free show at ND. After we got our IDs checked, we were informed that it was an official showcase, meaning we’d have to pay $13. Um, no thanks.

We ended up at Cheer Up Charlies, where Russell purchased a seemingly scrumptious chili cheese dog from a vegan food trailer. Some girl was singing along to interesting electronic music. She was operating an entire setup by herself with mixers and samplers and stuff. I got a text tipoff that Toro y Moi was playing at Longbranch on 11th Street, so we hauled ass over there. TYM had cancelled the set, but as we waited in line outside the venue I could hear Pictureplane, whom I’d always wanted to see. We didn’t get in until he’d already stopped spinning, but we made peace with the fact that we’d at least get to see Das Racist. The song that made them famous describes the confusion that two friends had trying to find each other at one of those weird fast food collaboration restaurants.

“I’m at the pizza hut (what?), I’m at the taco bell (what?), I’m at the combination pizza hut and taco bell.”

The show was a little out of control which was surprising considering that the crowd looked to be made of mostly older music industry professionals. People got on stage and sang along to songs or danced provocatively. A drum was passed around. I’m not sure what constitutes a good performance from them honestly. The beats were good, but the sound was pretty awful.

We called it a night around 1:30am. When I got home, I received a text saying I should come hang out at Rio Rita. Oh hellllll no. Exhausted from biking all over town, must sleep!

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