I’m pretty sure that the sole reason I chose not to attend SXSW all these years is the sheer magnitude of it. I could easily picture myself burning out after only a couple days of furious music listening, hopping from venue to venue, showcase to showcase, party to party, trying to see as many bands as humanly possible. No one was more surprised than me when I actually committed to going this year. Of course once you know that my motivating factor was to see the Wrens no one should be surprised at all.
I had day one pretty well mapped out, spend all day at the Guitartown Conqueroo party at Fado, and then flip a coin between seeing Joe Ely or Jon Dee Graham when it came time to choose a showcase. I heard the way to prepare for SXSW is to plan, plan, plan and then wing it, so I was perfectly willing to throw all that out when something else came along. The complicating factor turned out to be a chance to see Andrew Bird appear on Austin City Limits. So after seeing Gurf Morlix play a terrific but too short set at Fado, and spending a couple hours at the Paste party with Port O’Brien, the Heartless Bastards and Loney Dear I caught a bus that took me a few miles north to the University.
There was no guarantee I was getting in, all I had was an e-mail saying that I had been chosen to receive “Space available” tickets at 5 pm. I stood in line for a half hour before being handed a ticket and a number to hold my place in line, and was told to come back in two hours.
I sat in a bar across the street until 7 pm and then went back to reform the line. We watched as the members who had guaranteed spots filed in (one of them the Hold Steady’s Craig Finn). Finally at 7:40 they started letting our line in to the studio. While waiting I had been talking to a girl who worked at the studio (yep, they have to stand in line too) and she felt fairly confident that we would get in. Still, until I was actually on the elevator going up to the sixth floor stage I wasn’t so sure. I grabbed two free beers and claimed a spot only a few feet from the stage, probably the closest I have been to Andrew Bird in quite awhile.
I’ve been a fan for years, and had watched as he went from playing the tiny O’Cayz Corral to the stately Union Theater to even bigger venues and shows I can no longer afford. I loved the Bowl of Fire band and was sad when it dissolved, but accepted it when The Mysterious Production of Eggs blew my mind. I’ve been less impressed with his collaborations with percussionist/electronic musician Dosh and his most recent release Noble Beast, but that wasn’t going to keep me from enjoying this.
Luckily the hour plus set included quite a few older tunes. He opened with “Why?” a song which originally appeared on the Bowl of Fire’s swan song The Swimming Hour, but has been reworked into something completely different since then. Many of Eggs best moments showed up in the show. “Nervous Tic Motion of the Head to the Left” complete with said motion was delightful, while “Tables and Chairs” with its assertion that “there will be snacks” was as strangely compelling as always. Despite the fact that I was completely exhausted, I was deliriously happy to hear the distinctive opening notes of “Fake Palindromes,” dancing and singing along to what is without a doubt my favorite Andrew Bird song.
By the time I got back to the Sixth Street venues, the showcases I was interested in were only admitting badges and wristbands. I should have been disappointed, but I was actually quite happy to call it a day. Sure, I didn’t get to see several bands I wanted to see, but I’m pretty sure I made the right decision. It’s not every day you get to be a part of something like that.
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