One of the cool things about SXSW is that pretty much anywhere and everywhere in Austin becomes a venue during the week – parking lots, retail spaces, hotels, whatever. So when I noticed a show was happening at a kebab shop, I headed over there to check out London’s Kid Wave.
Frontwoman Lea Emmery commented on how chilled out the environment was on the restaurant’s backyard patio: “I love it, I feel like a more chilled out version of myself.” Accordingly, the band played a pretty chilled out, though still fairly rocking set of shimmering, poppy indie rock.
In many ways, a good band is a lot like a delicious kebab. First you need a nicely seasoned meat as your base – that’s the song itself. Then of course come the toppings, all the extra flourishes put on top of the “meat” that give the songs flavour. Then finally, the sauces, which I guess give more flavour to the songs. And then the pita that holds it all together. I suppose that would be the band. This metaphor may not be holding together too well (much like some kebabs) but you see where I’m going with this. Ultimately, much like a good kebab, Kid Wave made for a nice, satisfying mid-afternoon musical snack.
I saw two acts as part of the “traditional” (for me) Communion Night at St. David’s Sanctuary this year.
Matt Maeson
As with each new generation of pop music, Matt Maeson’s songs are full of emphasis. They are overt and attention seeking. It’s something worth putting on Instagram but may not stay with you by happy hour Saturday evening.
Even though they were delivered in a church with just a guitar, the dramatic pauses, the obvious epic-tempo, the produced and formulaic melody and structure asks one to listen, but can’t produce the substance and soul.
I’m probably doing it wrong – I don’t have the acronym and meme vocabulary of an 18 year old to correctly comment on this. Nonetheless, I don’t have any sentiments against Maeson – he certainly has the vocal range and talent, and no one doubts his authenticity. Yet a music video where a pastor synchronized his punches to music really made me (and everyone) cringe, just a little.
Agnes Obel
I have heard cello concertos in an orchestral setting, and always felt that they were simply alternative, deeper voiced violins. But that’s mainly because they can be buried by both the composition and the sheer number of instruments. I haven’t appreciated their power (albeit amplified) and versatility until now. Perhaps Agnes Obel is right in her more pared-down and focused approach to composition. Whether it’s completing sentences of opposites or driving a marching bass line, the cello proved incredibly apt at supplanting the air conditioners in supplying the atmosphere. That was a surprise that the recordings never did convey.
When the red lights came on before she took the stage, I thought that it would pass. But Obel constructs everything intentionally, and of course lighting is the other half of the ambience. And the lighting is best bloody dark. She was visibly annoyed when this illusion was broken and shafts of light peaked in with the swelling audience mid-song. She sang the main registers here and left the flourishes to the percussionist. It was no surprise that she would play “The Curse”, the 2013 hit that first drew our attention to Obel’s song writing. And of course “Familiar”, the single from her new album Citizen of Glass continues in that austere tradition. Beautifully flowing, intense yet personal, it’s a successful way to integrate classical elements for modern sensibilities. You are led to follow each melodic development instead of a fully-assembled harmonized sound.
I will admit that I had never heard of them until this year’s SXSW, but Melbourne-based Totally Mild ended up on my list on the strength of “Move On” from their last album, Down Time. It’s a bubbly vocalized piece with a music video that showed the band members drinking and regurgitating milk. Hearty, mind-bending, sardonic stuff. Since then, they have delivered another short album titled Alive in Denmark.
The lead vocalist Elizabeth Mitchell has a naturally high-pitched and clear voice that resonates well. She needs to – their music is moody, expressive and forlorn with twisting passages spanning quite a range. “The Next Day” is a good example. It’s like a slower version of a coloratura’s training scales. Listening to them in the BBQ tent really made me feel like an exemplary irony. Should I feign philistine and continue to shove food down my throat, or stop chewing midway to better hear the lyrics? Test this out for yourself with “More” – I’d stop half way.
Fluttering women have no patience to stay in Texas – they belong in Sydney, Australia. That’s why they left all their exes in Texas. At least that’s the story I made up. In truth, members of All Our Exes Live In Texas are from Sydney, and so are their exes. The Texas came in for a rhyme and dime.
All Our Exes appear to have coalesced as a revenge band – and playing at SXSW while their male counterparts (also a band) fester in Sydney gave them some degree of satisfaction. One would be hard-pressed to say that they are performing out of spite. They were playful and energetic (that would be anything other than head-bobbing in folk music). In a short set consisting of just 5 songs, each is enjoyable with bright melodies and close harmony. The rendition of their showcase “Boundary Road” is fairly true to the recording. It’s fun to guess who would be singing which part, as each seem equally capable of a similar range. All in all, not bad for their first time singing live in Texas.
ATO Records put on a showcase at Cedar Street Courtyard and the Panic Manual was there to take in sets by three of the artists performing:
Nick Hakim
Whether it’s “I Don’t Know” from 2014, or this year’s “Bet She Looks Like You,” Hakim’s recordings always project an air of sophistication. The precious silence in between his vocals produces its own reflective and soulful imagery. But in real life, with the din of Cedar Street Courtyard at 10pm, and everyone jostling for a view of the stage, it projected a completely different feeling. Perhaps it is an inaccurate impression. I felt anxiety-ridden – wishing that they could be heard in that smooth, slow light. But of course, as Einstein might demur, “there is no such thing as slow light”. Oh well, back to the headphones.
Chicano Batman
I am very much a person of instrumental music, so incomprehensible lyrics usually do not dissuade me. I found it a little funny and odd then that Chicano Batman’s music did not work for me. They produced disjointed melodies that accompany as transitions, a segue to each batch of lyrics. It is an interesting structure. They would jump off the cliff to explore the sea floor, and then teleport back up as if through rewind. Repeated use of this, however, made one song sounds like the other to me. I am sometimes reminded, during obvious passages, of jazz improv. There is also a whiff, carried on a synth keyboard, of a chord or key eerily reminiscent of 80s Taiwanese pop music. So, it could be the work of some Freudian block in my head – an annoying trip down memory lane.
Hurray for the Riff Raff
I last saw Hurray for the Riff Raff in 2014, performing in Lance Armstrong’s local shop, with more mountain bikes than people. Then, they were a feisty and folksy band with a singular message about empowering the underdogs. Fast-forward 3 years, and with the advent of the Trump era, they have essentially turned activists, as we’re likely all of us underdogs now. The vocal and style has transformed into something that would fit right into any large metropolis in their new album, The Navigator. “A Life to Save” is a very good example.
Confident, almost strident, they have also become much more adept at holding the attention of a large crowd. Alynda Lee Segarra now burns with a permanent anger. She wears it like a revolutionary, and even has a beret to match. Given the current political and societal context, I think she is right to be. We should probably all be angry at many of the regressive ideas floating around. That strong emotion carried throughout the concert, in songs that touched on immigration, social injustice, and even a ballad about her Puerto Rican father. Ending with Pa’lante or “go forward”, it is a forceful and powerful performance. I recommend catching their entire set (a different one hosted by NPR) below.
