This year marked the second iteration of a March gathering dubbed Chill Phases that occurs at the end of SXSW on a Sunday, the only day of the week appropriate for the mellow, secluded event. After winding down a country road half an hour outside of Austin, I turned onto a dirt path and heard the crunch of coarse rocks beneath my tires through my open windows. It had been raining for most of the week and it was the most beautiful and temperate day of spring thus far. I drove by a sporadic assortment of cars pulled aside on the road, poking slightly into the surrounding woods and found a spot to park. Emerging from the car into a calm stillness, I could hear music drifting gently from somewhere further down the path. I could feel the electric excitement of something transcendent and wonderful waiting in my immediate future.
For a number of years now, I’ve been traveling several thousand miles via multiple modes of transportation to make it to a small island in Washington for a festival called Anacortes Unknown, which is organized by Mount Eerie’s Phil Elverum. I return every year insisting to all my Texas friends that it’s the most amazing weekend of the year and that they have to go. A very few have undertaken this trek, but most don’t; it is an enormous commitment of resources. I get it, but it has still left me wishing (not so) quietly that we had something similar in closer proximity. Something community focused. Something that takes a bit of effort to find but rewards attendees with an evening unlike any other. I got my wish.
Artists Emily Cross and Dan Duszynski make music together under the moniker Cross Record, and Dan records bands at his Dandysounds Recording Studio. The married couple organize the mini-festival, which occurs on the ranch where they live in Dripping Springs. (Like a couple of other creative geniuses, Bill Callahan and Samuel Beam; what’s in the water out there?) The couple’s house is strangely modern, built in 2001 and constructed from rammed earth—dirt and rocks compressed into a concrete like substance. The internal walls are earthy and smooth with narrow windows running the perimeter across the top just below the ceiling. The architectural vibe suggests some sort of futureranch—a perfect headquarters for Chill Phases.
After walking a quarter mile up the road and rounding the house, I came upon a circle of smiling people watching two men dancing and playing dhols—a type of Pakistani double-headed drum. The crowd danced along to the beat as the drummers swung the dhols around and clinched the straps between their teeth while playing. Upon the completion of the performance people lined up to shake their hands and pat them on the back. This was the commencement of a moving and intimate evening of music and community. I spent most of the afternoon talking with friends and taking photographs of people I’ve come to know and care about. I wandered the grounds of what must be several acres on which the ranch is situated, discovered abandoned gardens, explored fields, forests, paths, a chicken coop, an old airstream trailer.
The day included performances from Nadia, Adam Torres, Krista Van Liew, Lomelda, and Big Bill. The latter might have been the most anomalous, but the punk pop band created important diversification and proved that small, intimate outings aren’t all about quiet music as they transformed the evening into an uninhibited dance party of giggling revelers. Frontman Eric “Bill” Braden wore the zebra head from a piñata destroyed earlier in the day as he paraded through the crowd.
Touring songwriter Julie Byrne closed the night by setting up an amp and small PA in the middle of a field to perform a gorgeous set of her transfixing songs as well as a stunning cover of Alice Boman’s “Waiting.” Everyone huddled together in the crisp spring night and sat in the grass around Byrne, whose figure was illuminated by more than two dozen candles.
Yet as relentlessly beautiful as Byrne’s performance was, it wasn’t the reason the day was so memorable. And it wasn’t the dance party. It wasn’t even music. Celebrating and sharing art with creative, like-minded people certainly added to the allure of the event, but its truly special quality moves beyond art or music. It’s about the people themselves and the community they comprise. It is playing catch with a baseball as the sun turns the grass golden and disappears behind the trees. It’s an impromptu game of tag among damp weeds. It’s a personal conversation on a walk beneath the arched branches of trees.
When I departed at the end of the day and made my way back down the path through the darkness to my car, shadowy trees leaned toward me and innumerable stars shined brilliantly above in a narrow swath of sky. I felt the events of the night encompassing my heart like the early spring air, cool turning cold, on my skin—pleasantly chilling, penetrating, and unforgettable.
All photos © Bryan C. Parker & Pop Press International. Click any image to open set in slideshow viewer.