I Am So Popular: Zen and the Art of SXSW
I know, I know, apparently it is illegal to use the letters “s,” “x,” “s” (again), or “w” in any combination this week unless you are officially sanctioned by the folks at SXSW. And so here I sit, risking some Midnight Express fate (did you see how I worked not one but two “s’s” and an x into Express) because I am going now wax poetic on zen and the art of SXSW.
First, a brief history of Spike and The Festival. I got to Austin late ’91. My first SXSW was spring ’92. I was a waiter at the Magnolia and so my baptism was by fire as the place was slammed with all those badge wearing assholes.
I became a badge wearing asshole a year or two into my Austin tenure because, as I like to remind y’all, I am so popular. Sometimes I got a badge for performing (back when they still had a poetry venue for SXSW) and sometimes for being a reporter. And suddenly, I understood that sense of entitlement I once loathed back when I was pre-badge. I pitied the fools who had to wait in long lines when I could simply sashay to the front of any line, Japan night being a favorite.
I’ve also made friends off of this week in the past. One year, after following the Polyphonic Spree all over the city I invited them over for brunch. All of twenty-six of them. And they showed up. All twenty-six of them. And they skated my half-pipe and drank my coffee and we lived happily ever after.
And I’ve made money—that was the year I rented out my house to Detholz and BabyTeeth, two Christian Metal bands from Chicago who paid me a small fortune to crash at my place. They were really polite, brought me a hostess gift of yarn (having researched me and learned of my knitting fetish) and they even cleaned the house—nothing I’ve ever done—before they left.
A year or two (or maybe three) I opted out of SXSW, as much as you can opt out when your town is taken over by five hundred million musicians and fans. Because I have this condition, which I’ve had since I was very little, developed because I have three older sisters who liked to exclude me from their little club. I call the syndrome FMS, short for ‘Fraid of Missing Something. And SXSW sets my FMS into high gear whether I attend or not.
If I don’t attend, then I sit home beating the shit out of myself for missing so much great music. But if I go out and see bands x, y, and z, well then I’m missing the other 1697 bands and what if they’re better? It just freaks my ass out. If I can’t see it all, I sometimes think, why see any of it?
This year, I was leaning toward staying in. I have plenty of stuff I should be doing. I’m getting too old for this up all night crap. I want to relax. Pick your excuse. But then, last Friday, I was listening to KGSR and Jody Denberg and Andy Langer were going on and on about their Music Lounge shows and the Four Seasons morning shows and I had this idea.
What if I created a sort of low key zen SXSW experience where I forced myself to fucking relax already, just see a few shows, and not get in a single line to do so. And what if I, Badgless (and wristbandless) in Austin, saw as many of those shows as I could before sunset? So, because I am so popular, dropped some notes to various radio station people and asked to sit in on interviews and sessions with visiting musicians. After I took a moment to hug myself for being so brilliant, I sent out those notes and I netted myself some really awesome and generous offers.
I started out this morning at the Four Seasons (note: anyone can attend this, no notes-to-DJs necessary), where Andy Langer and Bryan Beck were co-hosting, along with guest DJ Lyle Lovett, the KGSR morning show live. It’s a scene down there, but pretty mellow, since half the people in the room haven’t been to bed yet. It’s five bucks for valet parking and five bucks for a breakfast buffet and then you just plunk down and they parade in a bunch of acts. I saw the Whigs from Athens and Eli “Paperboy” Reed & The True Loves. What I liked best was watching Lyle watch the young’ns play—he seemed genuinely interested.
Next I ran over to Studio 1A at KUT to sit in and listen while Jay Trachtenberg interviewed NY pop jazz singer Pyeng Threadgill. I love Jay. I love his passionate interviews with artists—he really listens to their stuff and researches them before interviewing them. So instead of hearing some dumb questions and a rushed song or two, I actually got to learn about Pyeng and her curious childhood and how her next record is based on short stories by Jamaica Kincaid and Isabel Allende and Salman Rushdie. (I also love Jay because I got to be in the studio with him when Rufus Wainwright played this past summer and, despite my calm exterior, I was uber swooning.)
Anyway, Jay is just one of god knows how many countless over the top totally ass kicking DJs we have in this town. And that’s what I’m really thinking about this SXSW. We actually live in a town where you have at least four stations that are not pre-programmed, where you can tune in any hour of the day and there’s a good chance you’ll hear something you haven’t heard and an equally good chance you’ll catch some live interview. And if you’re agoraphobic and that makes you sad because you’re missing SXSW, well you don’t have to be sad because you can park your ass in front of your stereo for a week and hear more live music than most people get to hear in a year.
After Pyeng finished, she needed a ride to the Convention Center and what’s a SXSW without get stuck in nightmare downtown traffic at least once. So I gave her and her drummer a lift and this is what else I love about this week. You get to meet all sorts of people and be their best friend for ten minutes.
After the drop-off, I zipped up to the KGSR studios for their lunchtime music lounge concert with Billy Bragg and Carbon Silicon thanks to the kindness of Jody Denberg who allowed me to be one of, like, fifty people total in the audience. Am I really old enough to have been loving Billy for twenty years now? As ever he was clever and cordial and political. These days the punk edge is gone and he’s all let’s be nice to each other people which is okay but I confess I do miss some of that angry guitar beating stuff from the old days.
Not to worry, Carbon Silicon came on after Billy and took care of my punk needs. Okay, shoot me. Yes, I’ve been a Clash fan since before most of you were born. And I followed the splinter bands like Big Audio Dynamite. But somehow I lost track and had no clue who Carbon Silicon was. So you could’ve knocked me over with a leather studded bracelet when Mick Jones walks up to the stage and to warm up the band plays What the Fuck and Jones is just grinning like the very bad boy he is and, all praise Anarchy, punk was alive again for a half hour on the air. Oh my god Mick Jones is so fucking funny. In a week where you can run into an awful lot of people sporting a lot of undeserved attitude, I just love it when I get to see acts that are clearly having fun (which is why I always loved Japan night.)
Now I’m over on the east side at a party that just happens to be happening on a Thursday in March. It has NOTHING TO DO WITH SXSW. Do you hear me Roland? Louis? Not a damn thing. My kid’s band was wandering along and found a tent set up and just got under it and got out their axes and started playing. In fact, I’ve been over here in the ‘hood for an hour now and I have seen no signs of the letters “s,” “x,” “s” OR “w” (this being the “e” side).
And now I’m off to the Austin City Limits REM taping—don’t hate me for having a ticket. And that is going to merit a post all of it’s own.
Spike Gillespie puts on The Dick Monologues and blogs for LaunchPad Coworking and for her own amusement at www.spikeg.com. She knows who you are.
