I’m running on three hours of sleep, I’ve hardly changed my clothes, my shoes are worn through, my feet blistered, my car was towed, and still I’m having an absolute blast here in Austin at South by Southwest. Last night was especially memorable as I had the opportunity to see several of my personal favorites perform at the start of the evening in the enlivened atmosphere of the Mohawk venue.
I had been anticipating Wake Owl all week, and the Vancouver-based folk rock artist did not disappoint. After a week of watching band members carefully navigate dense labyrinths of twisting wires, stacked guitars and elevated keyboards it was refreshing to see a humble assortment of instrumentation up on stage and hear the simple yet pleasing combination of violin, guitar and percussion. The music was moving and melodic; an original exploration of grassroots sound inspired by the artist’s lifelong passion for farm-work. Wake Owl is an apt pseudonym for musician Colyn Cameron, whose unusual countenance and earnest cries had something avian to it that spoke of a natural, shamanistic wisdom. For the last couple songs a band member traded in his violin for an electric guitar and the band began to rock out upon distorted wails, as though transporting the grassroots soul out towards a modern era where it seemed to be bracing for all the impact of a hurtling train.
I had also been looking forward to Solid Gold, a Minneapolis-based indie rock band. Their studio-produced sound is a sort of cool pop-rock submerged in swimming synths and elevated with bright grooves. Live, they proved less mesmerizing and their music did not come together as cohesively, especially in regards to vocal melodies that were unsteady and frequently drowned out. But when they reached particular refrains they all crashed in together to blast out a wall of intense rock sound that was interesting if not what I expected.
Sandwiched between those two group I discovered a new favorite. I had not heard of Pacific Air, a Southern California dou that currently only has a short EP out from last year. But I was instantly blown away by the quality of their sound, which was a sort of melodious beach-rock enlivened by fizzy pop refrains and catchy beats. Built around the breathy, twisty gaiety of its singer’s voice, the band’s music was richly layered and seemed infinitely more dense than the four-part instrumental apparatus, while their energetic stage-prancing and flamboyant vigor was equally engaging to watch. Definitely keep an eye out for this group’s album, which is to drop later this year.
I next split from Mohawk and headed towards the Red 7 venue. Popular demand and long lines made it impossible to catch Foxygen, which no less than a dozen different people had recommended to me over the course of the night. But after an hour of wait and another half-hour of technical difficulties, I was introduced to the music of Brooklyn-based group Phosphorescent. Fashioned from singer-songwriter Matthew Houck, the animated folksy rock of the band played out well on stage, especially with help from an amazing pianist who bashed on the keyboard with unparalleled precision and devilish fervour. Matthew was charismatic and a crowd-pleaser, investing his body and voice into a spirit and sound of yearning sound, and proved an nice finish for the night.
For over three days now I’ve been lost in the Austin spirit, moving through in the interspersed chills and warmths of a fading Texan winter, enamored by the hordes of hipsters who have descended from every part of the world seeking to unite themselves with this flickering moment of time, lending their voices and minds to a collective cultural cry. It’s a little otherworldly, a little surreal, and though I won’t be covering the last official night of music tonight, I’ve had an amazing time working the field, discovering new artists, and meeting a variety of fun, interesting people. I’ve already engaged more people in intimate discussion here than I’ll probably make eye contact with for the next several months in Los Angeles. Ah Austin… Hope to see you next year.
