Coastal elites converged on Austin.

This post is brought to you by the collective "power" of Libby, Svetlana, Peter, Josh Phelps and Sean Peoples. Thank you all for attempting to power through it.

First of all, it is important to note that Svetlana and Peter drove (or Peter drove and Svetlana sat around complaining about Peter not wanting to eat at Cracker Barrel), for the sake of a truly authentic SXSW experience. You don't have to be a band to spend 23 hours in a ford something-or-other, but it tends to help.

Highlights of this journey included: Graceland, Peter's Dad's house in Nashville and the 1200 pound water buffalo sculpture in it, Svetlana learning all about podcasts, and some amazing bbq and (free! a sign of things to come) fudge in Hooks, Texas.

Lowlights of this journey included: Arkansas

Once there we had a full day before Libby and Philippe arrived that night so we tried to make the most of it.

Wednesday.

Svetlana: We actually met most of our goals on this first day: stopped by the Austinist/Woxy party at Mohawk, saw Washed Out/Small Black and this band which we were sort of ready to hate on the basis of it's name (which was MyNameIsJohnMichael) but ended up kind of loving. Then the Paste party @ Galaxy Room for some awesome GIVERS party time and Whigs @ Lambert's and a media meet and greet at City Hall which was great and relaxing and featured a photo booth with props so we felt right at home.

Also, everyone we met got a  BYT sticker stuck to them:

At night, because we're comedy moguls, we stopped by the Comedy Central showcase @ Esther's Follies which was there to pump their new animated show "Ugly Americans" and also to see some top notch indie comedy talent (yes, I know I said "comedy" three times in that sentence): Natasha Leggero, Nick Thune and Todd Barry (all dreamy, all of Bentzen Ball fame) were joined by Doug Benson (drunk and awesome), Hannibal Burress (not drunk and awesome), Dave Holmes (MCing is hard) and Maria Bamford (scary hilarious), sipped on complimentary margaritas and popcorn and laughed really a lot.

Then I had a meltdown at, like, 11pm when faced with the ultimate hipster spring break that was 6th street at night (going to SXSW for the first time at the age of 29 is a jarring and scarring experience) and went to sleep.

Peter listened to some punk bands on street corners and tweeted about it. I guess it was special. (Peter: it was the Static Jacks and they were amazing.)

Random DC run-ins that day included: David Malitz of the Washington Post, Laura Burhenn of The Mynabirds, Mike and Douglas of Kora Records, Tobi of ex-XMU, Kevin Bayly of The Dance Party in a Pantera weed t-shirt, Noel Pitts (who was a star hostess all week to everyone in town) and I am sure some other people who I am now forgetting.

Thursday.

The day started out poorly with some unfortunate bloody marys at Marisco's but we soon picked ourselves up and made our way to Fader fort (aka the land of all things good, free and ping pong tabley at SXSW), where we ran into US royalty having their street style portraits taken left, right and center, had some SoCo before noon, whipped some ping pong butt and saw this band Yawn that we didn't really have an opinion on.

Then we went to the Flamingo Cantina for the Team Cleremont party and to recap: Jeremy Jay was blase (As expected), Jookabox was cool (as expected) and they had this kid wearing a wizard outfit scream/rap in between bands. Good times.

Our friends over at the Bay Bridged threw an amazing showcase at Beauty Bar featuring some SF/Oakland bands. There was a guy there who looked like Cole Sharp if he gained weight and started torturing animals (Left). A Kathy Bates look-alike was also on hand (center) as a young Anthony Edwards drunk on pineapple and malibu (right). The young Anthony Edwards was in a band Still Flyin' which Peter loves a lot and wants to have young Anthony Edwards babies with.

Oakland's Wallpaper was like a (white) black Justin Timberlake. We'll never get bored of them.

Everyone drank a ton of free beer and I got all weird checking out Svetlana's legs.

We then picked up our favorite comedians on a street corner and played more ping pong, got all affectionate to Fucked Up and ate a bunch of nachos. Then I swear we tried to go out more but this bonfire party was ending, no one wanted to wait in the Band of Horses line and Delta Spirit (which Nick Thune was 150% dedicated to seeing) was not going on till 1 am. And 1 am after 14 hours of daytime bands is almost impossible to achieve.

Random and not random DC run ins included: Matthew Hemerlein, JT Smith of Flying Dog, Vandaveer, The Dance party looking huge, Michael Kentoff of The Caribbean, Sasha Lord of Comet Ping Pong, Victor Nguyen Long of 72 and Sunny, Ryan Mitchell of DeerWolf, other people?

(whatever)

Friday.

Early on we stopped by Lovejoy's for the I guess I'm floating party since we all wanted to see Tanlines (also on the really super good bill: Ruby Suns, Toro Y Moi, Javelin, Le Loup...) but the stage there is not elevated at all and we could not see anything so we just went to Jaime's and ate some more burritos.

Libby: I dedicated all of Friday afternoon to ensuring that I saw two of my favorite 40 something musicians: Lou Barlow (which actually happened on Thursday-ed, but then who's keeping track these days? NO ONE) and the most important drug addled twitter rambling widow in music history..... Courtney Love and "Hole".

Svetlana: This happened during the 25th anniversary party for SPIN and also featured FUCKED UP (who seemed to be stalking us), MIIKE SNOW (really good) and Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings, (standard issue killer), and Dam Funk and Das Racist DJing

and lots of free pepsi, whiskey, and weirdly colored vodka but Libby really did not care about any of the above. She had eyes and ears only for Courtney:

"I DID NOT SAY BIG FLAPPING VAGINA, I SAID HOOOOLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE"

Also-Lou Ferrigno (The Hulk) and Ven Troyer (Mini-me) were there too. It's ok to be jealous.

You can see me about to make out while listening to HOLE  and drinking cough syrup (left).Is it just me or does Lou Barlow look like a Phd candidate who sleeps with his students (center)? Also, you can stage your own sweet rock band photo at the Fader Fort (right)

In order to make sure we didn't pass out, we went to The Boiling Pot and slammed hammers into crabs and ate like savages. Frank's hot dog restaurant (which had a deep fried bacon wrapped cheese stuffed Vienna wurst) served bacon bloody mary's which saved U.S. Royalty's life.

On our way out we saw Fool's Gold, Midnight Masses and Yacht, all of which were great, albeit for different reasons (sort-of-like-Talking-Heads, mad sassy and just mad, respectively) and everyone should check out.

Also, that night was part 1 of our Red Fez 2 day extravaganza feat. on that particular occasion: Nouveau Riche DJs, Ancient Astronauts, El Jon Selector (the percussionist for Thievery), lots of free Flying Dog and Libby dancing up on all sorts of poles.

Random DC run-ins that day: ANYONE AND EVERYONE

Saturday.

The BYT showcase at the Red Fez.

Justin Rodermond of The Love Language woke up on the floor at a show with a busted face.

Other important things to remember: thank you to all the (15) bands for being great (including Love Language and Stricken City who guest starred in this DC extravaganza from North Carolina and London, respectively) thank you to Peter for working the sound board for 10 hours straight, thank you to Red Fez for letting us do this, thank you to everyone that came, thank you to Flying Dog and ESL and IndieFeed for making this possible, thank you to Sean and Philippe of Fatback for DJing, thank you Ben Kronberg for MCing,  thank you, thank you thank you

it was also freezing cold and David Malitz (of The Washington Post and Cheniers) knew what was up:

Lets look at some photos of the bands now, working, bonding, stealing each other's cymbals:

The more motivated of the D.C. contingency made it into the bottleneck cluster fuck that was the Perez Hilton party, not only did they make it inside- they managed to weasel their way backstage to watch Snoop and pose for photos with John Popper and Schwayze.

After the BYT showcase we stopped over to see Dave Nada and friends at the Baltimore party where we ran into Josh Sisk (rule #1 of SXSW is that you ALWAYS RUN INTO PEOPLE, and you always talk about RUNNING INTO PEOPLE-ed).

Then the night took an unexpected detour to a split level house in the suburbs where we crashed a party full of 18 year-olds who just broke straight edge. It was amazing.

I found a headdress.

Then went to some weird all ages club and did some super sexy cage dancing.

Guest notest by: Sean Peoples (OF SOCKETS!)

Here's my round up. I just started and I couldn't stop:

No lie, SXSW was a clusterf*ck. Too many things to see at any given moment. Too many IT bands playing at the same time at X or Y venue… Woah! Thankfully we had a posse of DC friends who could help absorb this social experiment’s epic-ness. The bands that defined the SXSW weekend for me included a bunch of surprises, or, as they might be more aptly described, happy accidents.

The good:

-TACOS!

-The thuggish sensuality of Wallpaper from Oakland, CA brought only smiles to this mug. The Lone Star tallboys helped for sure, but this duo was so nice I had to catch them twice.

-Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings. She can do no wrong. One day I’ll be the boy she gets to toy with on stage. One day… One day…

-Ben Kronberg cracks me up. Still.

-The Fader Fort nachos were slamming. Basically these nachos had me from the first scoop of the queso. The consistency of the cheese was perfect and combined really well with the beer swirlin’ in my belly. LONE STAR, I love you!

-The mud pit “created” by Damian Abraham (lead singer of Fucked Up) with about 10 bottles of water was pretty weird and amazing to watch. But damn if I was going to hang around and be hugged by him after he rooted in it for a good two minutes. Homeboy got weird. Really weird. And I soaked up the awkward. Keep Austin Awkward!

-Catching a quarter of Yacht’s set through a chain link fence with Peter was definitely better than having to stand in line for a wrist band and getting a shitty view in the back. We had the best view in the place, plus Yacht homie waved to me! OOOOH! He waved! To me! I saw him at brunch the next day. Yeah, he didn't remember me. Seems like our connection wilted after a few short hours.

-Chico Mann crushed the Fader Fort. The band is just a three-piece these days (down-sized from a 5 piece) and the sound carries a lot more low-end than the last time I saw them. They mixed in some Hot Streak (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o_jIJGPrj0g) and Debbie Deb (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NKJwlrRLoIk) for good measure. Hands down, one of the best shows I saw all weekend.

-Some DC bands that crushed it at the BYT/Flying Dog party on Saturday included US Royalty, Casper Bangs, and The Laughing Man. Even though they aren’t DC Love Language played the DC BYT showcase and instantly made me a fan.

The bad:

-I didn’t get to see one of my favorite DC bands right now, True Womanhood, play at all. I was thinking I would for sure see them at one point and didn’t. They are really working hard these days and making DC proud, so I’m excited for the next show in DC!

-Don’t go hard the first day people. Seriously. That’s what I did. Thursday was lost to Lone Star. I hate you Lone Star. I LOVE YOU LONE STAR! Yeah, and then Friday was just cloudy.

-I didn’t do what I know I should have – just stay in one venue and take the good with the bad. I was running around most of the time just trying to catch what I thought would be amazing and then missing it. Ugh!

Then we drove back and I will never be able to listen to Ira Glass' voice again, that's how much talk radio we indulged in.

NOTES BY JOSH PHELPS:

Monday: My SXSW started Monday as I departed BWI to Nashville to hop in the van with the current makeup of DC’s own Justin Jones and The Driving Rain: Justin, Conrado Bokoles, Brian Caputo and Alex Vans.   Their show that night at The Basement marked a few firsts.  Their first ever bill with 4 Brooklyn bands, all on their way to Austin, and my first fumbling around with the buttons on the sweater of an SLR camera.

Tuesday: The two day drive to Austin included a pit stop in Sulphur Springs (Conrado: “Eve the name stinks”) and a stop at Burton’s Family Restaurant.  If a family had a restaurant that sucked and all the cuisine was microwaved and topped with ashes, this must be the place.

Wednesday: Dropped our stuff in Austin after a brief pit stop at Willie’s Place, Willie Nelson’s tourist trap biodiesel gas station, but headed right back out and down to New Braunfels an opening show at Gruene Hall for the Drive By Truckers.  The oldest dancehall in Texas!  According to a brochure I picked up, this no stoplight town was a former cotton hub before the cotton gin burned down and (cue old prospector voice) the boll weevils came through.

Thursday: Accompanied Justin to a solo gig at Shiner Saloon’s Oakley showcase where he declined to rock the frogskins.  Kicked around 6^th street, ending up at Sidebar’s parking lot to catch Jewish rapper Kosha Dillz who had DC’s own Flex as sidekick and Jersey’s Mike Sheffer on drums.  New old friends Phantogram graced the stage afterwards before we crossed the street to finally meet BYT crew and friends at Beauty Bar, Oakland’s Wallpaper tearing the tent down with drum and sax funk.

Sheff and I played roadies for the Stubb’s wristbands as Justin and crew played house band inside during sets outside from Robert Francis, The Soft Pack, The Besnard Lakes (personal favorite,) DBT’s again, and finally the reunited Broken Social Scene.  Scrambled over to the Music Gym for Mussels 2AM set before heading back across the bridge.

Friday: Most of the band stayed behind in South Austin Friday as Alex and I hit up an interview with new Rhymesayers signee Grieves and photos for US Royalty, Matt Hemerlein and his fam and old friends from New Orleans: London’s Smoke Fairies of Jack White’s 3^rd Man records.  A Tex-Mex afternoon bled into the night and a house /auto repair shop keg and bbq party down by 1^st and route 35.  A simple place where rednecks just wanted a place to “eat bbq and throw my girl against a tree.”  Right.  Nearby, funk oozed from Diplo and Mad Decent’s Carniville.  Caught a quick set on east 6^th by DC’s William Rast and Austin’s Marco, founder of Antibalas, before trudging way back to the BYT/Flying Dog/Indiefeed party at the Red Fez for the free beer and bangin sounds of Gavin Holland and ESL affiliates.  Those German Astronaut dudes were crushing.  Oh, ran into Brian Posehn on the way (Sarah Silverman Show, The Devil's Rejects.)

Saturday: It was SNOWING in South Austin for Justin’s noon set at SXSanJose, held at the San Jose Hotel across from the historic Continental on Congress.  SNOWING.  Unfortunately missed the BYT showcase that night but enjoyed the free ride to Dallas.

SXSW was a good time although the days of unsigned bands, wowing the world of A and R, deals abound, seem in the wind.  In fact, it seemed like the shows where most people were listening were the showcases where the bands already had labels.  I mean, for a ridiculous party, SXSW was IT, but it also had the taste of an industry wankfest spewing miles of bullshit to anyone who’d twisten (Twitter puns!)  Saving grace for me was running into all the familiar friends and faces, from Jersey to DC, and enjoying their support of the DC scene and the Austin party vibe.  Oh, and the gallons of queso my body is still negotiating.

FINALLY:

Some pretentious poems by Peter about a few of the best bands that he saw:

Adrian and the Sickness:

Hair and fear from Medusa's head
shake out like tendrils of a fierce
anemone. Adrian's dreadlocks
lash her guitar as she shreds
more to the crowd of gawkers
on the street than the patio, screaming
YEAH as if a recalcitrant swan
had come to ravish her.

Kashmir:

Warm in a cloud of Danes
three viking beards spun
a delicate chain mail
of powerpop.

Sonny and the Sunsets

Wracked with joy
Sonny and his sunglasses
grimaced through the 1950s
until his face had forgotten
how to smile.
So we stood in a circle
placed tambourines on our hearts
and showed him how.

The Ferocious Few

A dangerous experiment:

Hundreds of hispanic teenagers

waiting in line to see a joke

crabcore band, crooned to

through a tiny tube amp and clattered at

by psychobilly two drum drumming

will, hypothesis, get into it--

clapping as they push their way

to the darkness and failure.

Conclusion: All concerts

should be on a dry warm sunlit

porch at 11 am.

Kooley High

Saturday two rappers stopped me

in a parking lot. "Man, we just

showed up here. We have no

idea what we're doing. How do we play

this Festvial?" I couldn't imagine

where to point them, so

I took one of their CD-Rs

and I drove south into the desert lands.

There I played it for three wisemen:

a rattlesnake, a coyote and a

7 layer vegetarian burrito.

They all agreed: Shit

is tight. So I went back and

told them, already they were in

the place to be.

The Safes
The last band. The last song
might have been Buddy Holly,
it might have been Ike Turner,
on a train going over a cliff,
sped up, speeding up faster
and faster to spit
it all out before
the end.

BONUS: SASSY POSTER FROM THE ROAD

Previously in Tangents:

• 12/28: Terrible Boyfriend/ Girlfriend Generator.
• 11/2: PHOTOS: TAXLO Halloween (feat. Chain Gang of 1974)
• 10/10: #OccupyWallStreet
• 8/10: PHOTOS: Lawn Mover Racing, Eastern Seaboard Regionals @ Bowles Farm
• 7/26: Special List: Things the BYGays Want Now That We Can Marry In DC (and NY!)
• 7/20: PHOTOS: Artscape
• 7/19: Miho Hatori's Guide to New York City
• 4/11: Cirque Du Soleil: Totem (A Review)
• 12/29: War, Reenacted
• 12/29: What in Hell is Slaughterama?!?