SXSW Ramble: From Ben Nichols to The Spits to a neighborhood block party to Tear Dungeon and Fugitive
Some people hate SXSW. But just the same, another contingency finds magic within the chaos. The festival is draining; it takes a lot out of the festival goer, the musicians, and the service industry staff slinging the tacos, cleaning up the puke, and loading up the plastic cups full of whatever poison gets the job done. Standing late Sunday night at Empire Control Room at the crossroads of that perfect place of drunk and happy, I consistently remain in the latter regarding where SXSW lives within my heart.
As Ben Nichols, the singer of Lucero, ripped through an almost midnight solo set of his most beloved songs, it was one of the experiences a Lucero fan wants: the dude played The Hits. Ask any Lucero die-hard, and we’ll tell you we love the bummer songs. And the bummers, we got. From “Raisin’ Hell,” “Among The Ghosts,’ ‘ to “Nights Like These,’ ‘ the set was the emotional band aid everyone needed after a long week. There is a magic about an Austin night when your people are bopping around to the music, the liquor spilling from their cups, and the universe feels perfect, if only for a moment.
This year’s SXSW had a diverse slate of music to slice through, but one thing I loved was the heavy presence of show bookers fighting against the prevalent stream of pop culture and throwing a lot of outstanding rock n roll shows. While having to navigate through the crowds of hopeful artists shooting rap videos at every intersection on 6th street, there were many moments of the classic SXSW experience everyone wants: The Oxy’s and Rickshaw Billie’s Burger Patrol laying waste to Hotel Vegas, letting everyone not from Austin know why they’re the top two bands in their respective genres to absolutely NOT fuck with.
While at the same show, I noticed multiple girls rocking the tramp stamp and many eyebrow and lip rings, so I guess we’ve landed back in this universe, huh? (I swear to God, it’s enough y’all pretend Creed and Nickelback are good; if you lift up Kid Rock, I’m rioting.) I also saw a girl use a 1990s-era digital camera, and wow, that’ dedication to the gimmick. But during that show, the Lonestars hoisted in tribute, caught sets by Ringo Death Star, who had insanely gnarly space riffs. Urban Heat played super horny hard synth stuff akin to Depeche Mode. And hey, while we’re here, tell the singer to put on a fuckin’ shirt. We get it, goth Adam Levine; the ladies wanna take a sniff.
Some of the best hangs were off the beaten path throughout the week. Coral Snake put together a string of shows with Paste Magazine that were logic-defying, along with a taco truck that slaps—seriously, go try the carne asada quesadilla, but use the red sauce with caution. Sunset Strip Comedy Club kept to its mission of delivering the best local lineups, giving tourists coming into Austin a brisket-sized slice of laughter, pointing out that we’re not just a music town any longer. (If you’re a Saturday Night Live person, you should probably catch Good Evening News.)
The 13th Floor and Creem Magazine kept it punk rock as all get out, having bands like the legendary psychos, The Spits, playing on the patio right out to Red River while members of The Riverboat Gamblers and The Black Keys both cheered on with aplomb. Creem put on two days of bangers, and we’re lucky to have whomever back at the helm of the magazine because the flag of “fuck you, we’re rock and roll” is frankly the two-middle-finger salute everyone needs to the mainstream. Better Days and Sidebar never let anyone down when respite was required, offering a cheap, strong glass of poison and air conditioning that would ruin a penguin’s day.
Needing a night off, I stopped into see the homie Chris Castro tending bar down at Manchaca Springs Saloon, and let me tell you, that joint is crawling with a few certified weirdos. If you need a quick pulse check on old Austin, pop in for a beer. You’re welcome. On the flip side, I stopped to see a Food Tank event on food sustainability, which talked about the concept that food is medicine, and I think everyone would agree that a McDouble is not the same thing as a garden salad. The event was an eye-opening experience that saluted the people who can see through corporate America’s murk, allowing disease to run rampant through specific communities.
Yes, I did catch one of the Black Keys shows. Am I happy to have seen them play in a venue as small as Mohawk? Yes. I saw a stadium band play for less than a thousand people. That’s always cool. Were they great? Of course, they’re pros. My only gripe is while the Stubbs show was all the hits, we got the B-side record show of their country-blues numbers. Look, I ain’t dogging it. But, when the performance is over, maybe come out and blast a few hits; we’re all drunk in the rain, so come on, drop a “Lonely Boy” or something off those first nasty blues records. It’s just a personal gripe. I’ll get over it.
The Cosmic Clash party with Play to the Plants at Lost Well and Cavalier was as old school as it gets. I’m not just saying that because I’m a staff writer and contractually obligated to do so, but instead, it’s an incredible experience to go to something and everyone hanging out are Austin locals. You can’t beat a bunch of people coming out to support their friends on a nice day, showing up for one another, taking care of the bartenders, and cheering along bands hand-picked for the event, not by clout but sheer belief in the noise they create.
At Empire on Saturday night, a gaggle of us freakniks caught Tear Dungeon who crushed. Crushed. Crushed. Saw skaters rip up a tiny ramp and enjoy Fugitive beating the room into a pulp with some straight up heavy metal fury. The shows at Empire were easily my favorite of the weekend. GM Steve and his people ran a tight ship while keeping the environment cool, which can get dicey during the last rays of light during SXSW. It’s easy to hate on Austin some days. Yuppies and their mixed-use condo eye sores are trash. We don’t care about most hybrid restaurant concepts; we just want cheap tacos and cheaper beers. But, a lot of times, after SXSW, it’s easy to be like, “You know what? This place ain’t so bad.” It sure beats spring break anywhere in sunny Alabama.
Featured image by Bang Ho
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