SXSW Diary, March 15-19, 2006

Return to Part 2

THURSDAY MARCH 16
Over the last few years, day parties have grown and grown and grown, until now, from Tuesday thru Saturday, there's literally hundreds of day parties all around Austin. Some require invites or laminates. Some are mega-exclusive. Some have free food/drinks. Some require only a badge to get in. And some are just plain free and open to everyone. As a result, attendance at the SXSW conference itself at the Austin Convention Center & trade show Thur-Sat has become increasingly sparse. Days used to be full of panels, which ran the gamut from dry to feisty and argumentative to drop-dead funny (a panel of road horror stories one year was/is priceless). Some recent panels, like the Smile panel with Brian Wilson and David Leaf, the Big Star panel, the Cream panel, and the MC5 panel, have been packed. Others have played to a half full room or less. So this year, SXSW's panel gurus have elected to fill the days primarily with what they call 'artist interviews.' What this means is that a hand-picked music writer or well-known music biz person will sit on a podium with an artist (or occasionally a whole band) and ask them pre-prepared questions. When artists gave keynote speeches in the past (Ray Davies comes to mind), sometimes you'd get an absolutely fantastic inside look at an artist, speaking and telling stories and 'entertaining' in a forum they were unused to. Now that so-called 'keynote addresses' have become more frequently Q&A with a writer, I find myself less interested. To be sure, sometimes they're priceless: Dave Marsh interviewing Little Richard, for one -- Richard just rolled over him and Dave wisely let him. This year's keynote was Jaan Uhelzski interviewing Neil Young with Jonathan Demme. That's a pretty great combination on paper, and I'm sorry I was up so late the night before that I didn't get in early enough to watch/listen to it.

But this year, to compete with day parties, that was pretty much the format SXSW was using to keep conference registrants from abandoning the day events in the convention center in favor of live music and free beer -- celebrity interviews. So you got interviews with the Pretenders, Morrissey, Sam Moore of Sam 'n' Dave, etc., etc., etc. I hope it worked for 'em, I do. But for myself, with very few exceptions (Patti Smith a previous year was one), frankly, I'd rather have panels, history stuff, educational stuff. I don't like talk TV or talk radio, I rarely sit thru Letterman or Leno or Conan. And the very idea of listening to what in essence is a magazine interview, but live and in person, just bores the bejesus out of me. I've interviewed hundreds of musicians myself. No matter how brilliant the interviewer (and I'm certainly not including myself in the brilliant category), most musicians just aren't all that interesting to listen to talking, especially if they're talking about themselves. Morrissey sure as hell isn't. Jagger sure as hell isn't. McCartney sure as hell isn't. Frankly, for my money, I'd rather read a transcript of the interview online afterwards, maybe with a few photos. Take a quarter the amount of my time, be just as entertained to be reading it as watching and listening, and I'd rather be out seeing live music than, erm, dancing about architecture, so to speak.

Overslept a bit, but needed it. Missed lunch with both Peter and Art, ate alone at a restaurant on the way in, then headed over to the convention center so as to be there early for our film, The Passing Show - The Life and Music of Ronnie Lane, which was having its world premiere at 1:30pm in the convention center (I'm one of the film's producers, and it's a first film for all involved). Wandered around the Trade Show for a while. Talked to Dave Marsh briefly and passed Jaan on the elevator but didn't get to talk to her (?, any year I miss talking to Jaan is a sad SXSW). We've been working on the film for six years (producer/idea man Rupert Williams, director/editor James Mackie -- both BBC employees in London -- and I). It's a lovely and affecting story of Lane's life and music, from the Small Faces, to the Faces, to Slim Chance, to being diagnosed with MS and moving to Texas then Colorado. Ian McLagan, Kenney Jones, Susan Lane, Pete Townshend, and Eric Clapton were all very generous and supportive of the project. An edited version that aired on the BBC may air here on VH-1 this summer, the film's traveling around the country for a few showings, and hopefully in the fall, you'll be able to see it with extras on DVD. I must say the version which aired two weeks later here at the Alamo Drafthouse was a far superior edit (great work, James!). It was pretty exciting for those of us at the premiere, as we hadn't seen the completed film ourselves. Nice if somewhat sparse crowd, which I felt bad about until I remembered that the Brian Wilson Smile film had played to only 15-20 more people a year ago. Did a little Q&A after the film, as Rupes and James couldn't afford to come over themselves. Ironically, none of us affiliated with the film (or in it) filled out the little cards they gave us to vote on how good the film was. I stuck it in my pocket and didn't see I could've voted on our film until the next day, and I know the others did the same thing. Oh well.

Spent a bit more time in the convention center, and was debating on seeing some music at day parties. But after seeing the first film I was partly responsible for in a theatre -- a very emotional experience, let me tell you (not to mention revisiting my mate Ronnie's sad end) -- I wound up going home and hanging out on the couch with Tyrone the Terrible (my cat) for an hour instead to decompress before seeing live music.

Drove back in to Antone's, found the parking garage across the street where I park every week to see Ian McLagan and the Bump Band at the Lucky Lounge already full and closed (unbelievable!!! it was just 6pm), so parked over near the clubs in the warehouse district and walked back, so my car would be close to where my evening was gonna wind up.

Much to my dismay, there were maybe 300 wristband holders and a hundred badges already in line for Richie Furay's 6:30pm gig. The punters all thought (reasonably enough) that Neil Young was gonna play. Now let me explain something about SXSW: sometimes really big name artists do secret gigs. The main reason they're secret is that the artist wants to do something low-key that fans will love, but without having thousands of fans trying to get in to a venue that will only hold a couple of hundred. Our local daily has long had a tradition of outing secret gigs, and a youngster there did that with Neil (nice and talented young writer, but dammit, he needs to be spanked -- it was an extremely irresponsible thing to do -- if I ran SXSW, a writer who outed a secret gig in print would simply never again get invited back, lemme tell ya). The thing was, Neil in fact had promised Richie he'd play, and SXSW had arranged the schedule to make it easy for Neil if he decided to do it. I'm under the impression that Neil told Richie earlier in the day he wasn't going to do it after all, but it really was on in advance. Reminded me of the Buffalo Springfield reunion for the Rock'n'Roll Hall of Fame, where Stills' onstage comment to Furay was 'well, Rich, looks like he's quit us again.' I should also note that SXSW director Brent Grulke and I have had a kind of running joke that we were gonna get the Buffalo Springfield to reunite for SXSW; last fall, Brent walked into our local and sat down beaming, saying "I signed Neil Young today to be the keynote" to which I replied without missing a beat "so you're calling Richie tomorrow, right?" and he said "Yep" with a mile-wide grin on his face.

Not to mince words at all, but Buffalo Springfield were/are/always have been my favorite American band from the '60s. No one even close in my heart. Richie Furay was the lead singer. Neil Young was the lead guitarist, and, not yet really a lead singer himself, wrote some of the most brilliant songs of his career for Richie to sing. Stephen Stills was the 2nd guitarist and most prolific songwriter. He and Richie had patented this dynamite 2-part vocal part on most of their songs, although Steve also sang some himself from day one. After a blindingly incandescent 18ish month long career, during which time they were to live music in the States what The Who were to live music in England, the band imploded. Furay formed Poco with Jimmy Messina (who filled in as engineer and bassist on the last Springfield album, mostly done without Young). And it could be argued that Poco, over the course of five albums from 1969-1975 during which Furay was their lead singer were the definitive blueprint for what's now known as alt.country. I saw Poco at their prime around 1971-2, but never, ever had I heard Richie singing Buffalo Springfield tunes. And he's an all-time favorite singer of mine, too.

Furay has been effectively retired from secular music, and in the ministry for some 25 years, and this spring, he's releasing his first solo album, Heart and Soul, this month, featuring appearances from Stills, Young, and members of Poco. But to be honest, I was expecting Furay to come out and do a whole bunch of ballads, along with 3-4 oldies from the Springfield and Poco. Boy howdy, was I wrong! Furay appeared with a full 4-piece band, full of that famed energy and charisma he brought to the Springfield. Along with several songs from the new album, every one of them terrific, he played virtually all the Springfield's best songs: "Flying on the Ground is Wrong," "Nowadays Clancy Can't Even Sing," "Do I Have To Come Right Out and Say It" (that being the three by Young), Stills' "Go and Say Goodbye," and his own "Child's Claim to Fame" and "Kind Woman." Among the Poco hits he played were "Pickin' Up the Pieces," "And Settlin' Down," "Good Feeling To Know," "C'Mon," -- in fact, just about every single song I loved most. For me (and maybe for quite a few others of the over-capacity crowd, who seemed as over the moon as me), it was one of my personal all-time highlights in the 18 years I've attended SXSW (the first year the Austin Chronicle didn't invite their own staff, and one year I worked nights, so I've missed two). After the one-two punch of seeing my first film for the first time and seeing Richie Furay, I thought seriously about going home and watching a movie. No question the rest of the evening was gonna be all downhill.

I walked around the corner, hoping to catch the end of Ian McLagan's weekly free happy hour set next door at the Lucky Lounge, but they'd finished early to let Scrappy get to his solo gig across the street, so I chatted with Mac and Mark Andes. Then got a call from Peter Case, who'd set off the alarm in my house and couldn't get it to turn off. While I was holding the back door open with my toe (I couldn't hear inside for the club's music system, tho the club was mostly empty), a hired-for-SXSW club bouncer (not a SXSW employee, nor a SXSW venue, BTW) started a fight with me, pushed me, bruised me up a bit. Thankfully I kept my temper and didn't hurt him and get myself arrested.

When I walked around the corner, still steaming and worried about Pete and the alarm and my panicky cat, I ran into Richie Furay standing on the sidewalk by himself. Since he was playing at our party Saturday, I had an 'excuse' to go up and talk to him, and discovered to my great delight that he's as sweet and lovely and friendly a 'rock star' as you could ever hope to meet. Calmed me right down, too (which, again, is fortunate). Before I left, Richie said "so Kent, what do you want me to play at your party Saturday?" Holy cow! Does this stuff happen in real life?!!!

Walked across the street to the Whisky Bar to see one of Austin's greatest guitarists, Scrappy Jud Newcomb (who plays with Ian McLagan, the Resentments, Toni Price, and zillions of others). Met Pamela des Barres walking out as I was walking in (she'd just done a book reading at 7:30pm in that club. I'd seen her trying to get in to see Furay, and was pretty certain she'd not gotten in, so I was going to give her a postcard for our party Saturday so that she could see Furay play then). She turned her nose up and stalked off without me getting two words out; guess the gig didn't go well, I know the bands were pissed at her for running overtime and making everyone else late (heard it repeatedly from several of 'em). Geez, Pamela, I was just trying to be nice, we have several good mutual friends.

Scrappy's set, augmented by Ron Flynt on keys and Seela on vocals, was just excellent. I've liked all his albums, but this one sounds like it must be terrific. I must pick that up soon. Hung around a big after to chat with Scrappy and Jon Dee Graham, who was playing soon. Watched a bit of some dude who's allegedly big on local AAA station KGSR. Then shanghaied Flynt and went around the corner to a pub to have a few drinks. There was nobody I wanted to see for another hour or so, and 6th Street was too far to walk to; having some quesadillas and Guinness with a dear pal I seldom see seemed the more intelligent decision.

Everyone I wanted to see was far away. Boss Martians, Charlemagne, Starlight Mints, Fiery Furnaces. I kinda wanted to see Morrissey (haven't heard his brand new one, but last year's album was the first solo album of his I'd liked in a long, long time). But, you know, he just seems so .... Richie Furay was like, music very much from and for the heart and soul (no pun to his album title intended), and Morrissey is so coy and pretentious and stuck on himself. After having a musical experience that was just transcendent, I couldn't make myself go in to see Morrissey. Just couldn't do it.

The night's big 'secret' gig was Ray Davies doing a surprise full-band set at the Austin Music Hall following Morrissey. That was at 11:15pm. I was there with bells on, ready to dig on songs from Davies' wonderful new solo album, but when I walked in (no line? Yer kiddin' me!), Alison Goldfrapp was prancing about onstage while some bad disco music played. The joint was half empty, and Ray Davies clearly wasn't gonna play. I knew word of this secret gig hadn't leaked like the Lips one (no moron printed it in the paper, for one thing), but it seemed to have been so secret Davies didn't even know about it. So I hit the 'loo and left. Found out later what had happened. Apparently, our Mr. Stephen and our Mr. Ray have had some contretemps in the past, and aren't exactly on friendly terms (anyone detecting shades of Davies' earlier relationship with Tom Robinson is spot on, I should note). Saturday I heard what had transpired: at soundcheck that night I understand Morrissey's folks had it in their contract that their EQ wasn't to be moved after their soundcheck. So either Morrissey would have to set up in front of Ray, or vice versa. And neither artist nor their crew would budge. Ray wouldn't let his gear be set up in front of Morrissey's, Morrissey would let his be set up in front of Ray's. I understand it finally came down to the SXSW person in charge saying "So Ray, you gonna play or what?" to which Ray replied "I guess not..." and walked out. I was disappointed, sure, but hey, I'd seen Richie!!!!

The one thing I couldn't miss was IV Thieves. Last year's Greatest White Liar by Nic Armstrong was one of the greatest British albums in a decade, and one of my most played of the year. And IV Thieves, as they've renamed themselves now that the touring band has coalesced into a shithot actual band (as opposed to Nic & backing band) with four guys who write and can sing lead, are simply one of the very best live bands working today. Sunday they were heading off to open a West Coast tour for the Pretenders. This bill at La Zona Rosa at 11pm was kinda bizarro. It was all alt.country type acts. I saw some competent if faceless band before them, The Drams, from Denton, I believe. Spent most of the time pacing about, really bored. There was absolutely not a soul I knew in the joint, tho it was pretty full. Odd, I usually know 5-20 folks anywhere I go at SXSW. IV Thieves came out, rather pissed at being on a country bill (Kris Kristofferson would follow them!!!!!????) I'm really unsure if someone at SXSW thought they were going to turn on a country rock audience to IV Thieves, or if someone at SXSW was smoking crack on the job. Weird, inappropriate bill for IV Thieves. They haven't played here in a while, tho they basically stayed after SXSW last spring, and pretty much all live here now. They didn't let me down a bit. Great show! BTW, that would be IV Thieves as in 'Four Thieves." Not "Eye Vee" Thieves or Intravenous Thieves or whatever. Bet lots of folks are gonna get that wrong. Try to find 'em in the SXSW book. I just did. 'Tain't easy.

Now, the one other thing I REALLY wanted to do was go see Carl Barat's new band, Dirty Pretty Things. The Libertines's 2nd album was one of my faves of the last 10 years, and I was/still am damned excited to hear Barat's new band. Unfortunately for me, it was way across town in the middle of 6th Street. Parking was so disastrous there Wednesday I was afraid it would take 30-40 minutes to park and walk to the gig (if indeed I could park closer than where I was). And I knew my legs weren't gonna want me to sprint way over there and then way back to my car to get to the Continental Club. Even worse, I happened to know that the Flaming Lips were playing their 2nd and final secret gig at the same club as Dirty Pretty Things, but right before 'em. So I figured the odds of getting there, getting in, and getting back to see the Minus 5 at 1am were slim to nonexistent. A major disappointment, for sure.

So I went early to the Continental Club. Snagged decent parking, and almost immediately ran into my lovely pal Angie Carlson, former Yep Roc publicist (it was their showcase at the Continental) who's still doing publicity for The Minus 5. Chatted with her for a good while at the bar, met two of Tres Chicas who'd played earlier. The band who was on were really quite good, Jake Brennan & the Confidence Men (from Boston apparently, never heard of 'em but really enjoyed their set!). And finally, at 1am, The Minus 5 came on and played a fabulous set, with lots of guest musicians getting up on different songs. Some folks might think as a long-time (since the Hibtone single) REM fan I like the Minus 5 because of Peter Buck playing bass. Nope. I'm a big fan of Scott McCaughey's songs, and a big fan of Jon Ramberg (the other guitarist/backing singer, and of his own terrific band, The Model Rockets). Ramberg had to leave due to a death in his wife's family, unfortunately. So the band got not one but about 6-8 different fill-in artists. It had been too long a day by that time for me to be able to remember everyone who got up and played (Steve Wynn did two songs, I know). "Little Black Egg," "I'm Not Bitter," "Lies of the Living Dead," "Doctor Evil: Doctor of Evil," "Aw Shit Man," "Out There on the Maroon," pretty sure they played all those favorites. My friend Holly was there, and after the show, a bunch of us all stood around talking in the back room (Buck, McCaughey, Wynn, Mary Lou Lord, and several more I can't remember), until the staff finally shooed us out so they could go home. Everyone was dying to go to the all night after hours party with the Beastie Boys, and I'd been invited since my mate Hunter's band The Diamond Smugglers was on the bill, but I was too befuddled by then to remember where the party was (it turned out to be a few hundred yards away at what used to be the Opera House, doh!) and Hunter's cell wasn't on. Just as well. Another pint and I'd have had to call a cab.

Read More

back to top