I guarantee there isn’t another place on earth where you could see the Wrens three times in 24 hours. In fact, until it actually happened, I still wasn’t convinced it was possible. I told more than one person I could probably die happy after this weekend, though I have no intention of dying any time soon.
Today the Wrens kicked off the party at Mohawk, thrown by the blogger collective Hot Freaks. Considering they had just finished their showcase at Prague a mere ten hours earlier, they were remarkably energetic. In fact, this may have been the most musically solid show of the weekend, and it probably goes without saying that it was amazing. I love that band. Since Bishop Allen has the same booking agent as the Wrens it was no surprise to see them on this bill also. Not just the same agency, but the exact same dude, who I believe probably thinks I am delusional. Just wait, he’ll see, the Wrens WILL play my house some day.
While the Wrens had kept pretty much the same set all weekend, Bishop Allen only repeated two songs from the day before, the bouncy “Shanghai” and “Middle Management” which was featured in Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist. In the movie, the main characters left the bar just as the band took the stage, and I found myself yelling “wait, don’t leave!” at them. I forgave them their inconsiderateness after discovering the video in the special features. Lead singer Justin Rice was considerably more animated when he wasn’t forced to start the set winded, his measured gestures adding another level of meaning to every song. The band has always centered on Rice and Christian , while the rest have become interchangeable, but for the second time I found myself continually distracted by the perfectly adorable bass player wondering why I hadn’t noticed him before.
Hot Freaks was also sponsoring the party next door at the Club DeVille. From the outside it appeared that the clubs were connected but once inside it was obvious that I would not be able to slip back and forth between the two as I had anticipated, at least not without jumping a small fence and having a tricky slide down a slippery slope. You could get tantalizingly close though. At the very back of Mohawk at the top of said slope you could hear perfectly but not see them. I kept eyeing the line outside the club and the beer line inside weighing my next move. After a frustrating set where I could hear but not see the Handsome Furs, I abandoned my shade and $1 PBRs for a chance to actually see the Thermals.
American Analog Set was one of those bands who I had heard of never actually heard. There’s a good chance that might be because they are boring. Sure they might have been terrific in a dark club late at night, but while waiting in the Texas sun in an interminable beer line as one dude pumped the $2 all-you-can-drink beers, they were just plain boring. All my annoyance evaporated as soon as the Thermals hit the stage. I had only seen them once before, an opening set for Cursive at the Pabst, but they made quite an impression, and I had been waiting to see them again. They did not disappoint. All the songs that had such an immediate impact the first time I saw them (notably “St Rosa and the Swallows”) are still part of a set that combines them with terrific sounding new material. The only disappointment was that despite the fact that they were playing several times this week, I knew this was the only time I would see them.
The same held true for the Hold Steady, they too had played another party the day before and were going to be a part of Rachel Ray’s highly touted bash the next day. Despite the fact that everyone said that was THE party of the week, I had already decided to skip it in favor of a half dozen smaller events. And as much as I love the Hold Steady I’ve discovered that I don’t really ever need to see them two days in a row (by, of course, seeing them two days in a row). The Wrens could play the same set every day for a month and if I possibly could I would be there in the front row, but seeing Craig Finn and company only needs to happen a couple times a year. I hadn’t seen them since their split bill with the Truckers back in November so I was due for a session with the characters that so vividly populate their songs, none more so than “Your Little Hoodrat Friend” which never fails to make me happy.
In fact I smiled all the way back to my hotel room. I brushed my teeth and headed back out ready to see more amazing shows. After a lot of thought I decided to head across the street to the Habana Bar Backyard, choosing the Felice Brothers showcase over Okkervil River. It had been well over a year since I had seen the Felice Brothers, but the two show introduction I had gotten to them had been impressive and I spent most of last year listening to their debut record. After sitting through the likeable but unmemorable Love Language and the nauseatingly earnest Dawes, I was more than ready to hear the Brothers. What followed counted as the only real disappointment of SXSW, they were awful.
Certainly my expectations were set much too high, but there was nothing in their set of sloppy, drunken ramblings to make me happy I was there. I would have been OK with them not playing “Frankie’s Gun,” the best song off the last record, but it was impossible to overlook the screw ups and the start overs. I’ve seen those things be endearing in other bands but with them it reeked of success turning them into assholes. When the set ended with the fiddle player tackling the bass player as he stood on top of the bass drum, scattering people and instruments across the stage, I’d had enough. “That was terrible,” I announced to the friends I had made at the front of the stage. Rather than stick around for Jason Isbell and Tim Easton, I went back to the hotel, my apologies to Jason and Tim.
I should have gone to see Okkervil River.
And yeah, I’ll go see the Felice Brothers again, everyone gets a second chance with me.
No comments:
Post a Comment