As would be expected, my second day of SXSW got off to a late start. But a good start nonetheless, with a rollicking great set from Death on Two Wheels (pictured above) at the Paste/Vanguard/Sugar Hill/Russell Carter party. The Atlanta band thrashed away happily in the sun with full rock and roll drive. With wailing guitars, howling keyboard and Trae Vedder’s growling vocals leading the way, the boys have been gaining much attention in their own hometown, and soon surely the rest of the country.
The Bridges followed Death on Two Wheels, with the band of girls (and one guy) leading the category of coolest family bands ever. Their bubbly brand of country-tinged pop has been gaining the favor of many a music fan and publication across the country, and this show easily added to their favor. Though sounding completely radio ready, with accessible female harmonies and sweet songs, the band still keeps a strong indie authenticity, with all the members playing their own instruments perfectly with stellar rocking feeling.
Over at The British Music Embassy, The Pictish Trail took the stage just after teatime at 4.15 p.m. For the most part it’s a one-man band, Johnny Lynch, who has a clear folky voice lying close to James’ Tim Booth, but in a much lower range. Though he could be grouped in with the anti folk movement, his sound is more neo folk, staying close to the original sound of folk but with a slightly quirkier taste on stalwarts like Richard Thompson. Though many songs are played solely on acoustic guitar, there’s quite a few numbers that are augmented with loops and layers, and the guitar itself often echoes with a shimmery texture giving an almost blues feel with the odd twang here and there. While many of the songs could be described as neo folk, there are a few intriguing exceptions, or at least songs that build a lot more on the folk sound, like the last number, the strongest point of the set, which saw Lynch setting down a fuzzy dance beat on the loop machine as well as a good handful of other loops, to create a kitchen-sink texture. What results is the perfect late night after party track, mellow enough to take you down from the club but not too chill to put you to sleep.
Later that night, Nevada’s Alela Diane played at the Hilton Garden Inn’s 18th Floor. With a sweet alt-country sound echoing that of Graham Parsons and Emmylou Harris, she charmed the audience with her clear and beautiful tones, giving the odd intonation of a yodel every now and again to keep things really interesting. The lonely dessert feel really rang true in her voice, sounding sometimes like the cowboy who had been on the trail too long. Her bare and honest singer/songwriter style has a familiar twang which manages to set her apart from the usual acoustic rock crowd. With a stellar band backing her – including a female bassist who accompanied her on harmonizing vocals and her father on mandolin and electric guitar – Diana had a full, wholesome sound that went clear to the back of the room.
At La Zona Rosa things were already off to a loud start by 11.40 p.m., when Scotland’s coolest export this year Glasvegas took the stage. Lauded by many to be the hottest property on the indie scene, Glasvegas has been hyped by many a magazine, not the least being NME, who named the band the best of the year. Their live show certainly lives up to the praise, with thundering guitars seemingly roll down the highlands of Scotland, with singer James Allen’s distinctive vocals landing somewhere between an American croon and an angsty wail, all the time sounding undeniably Scottish. The band’s melodic shoe gazer guitars mix with a punk panache on stage to give a live performance and sound unlike anything else around right now, which is a huge part of what makes them so appealing. That coupled with the intense passion and tender, pleading vocals of youth (heard best on Allen’s sorrowful rendition of “You Are My Sunshine”) make for a band that not only sounds like it’s somewhere between The Smiths and The Clash, but could be just as popular as the two.
At last though, it’s time for Primal Scream, who take the stage promptly at 12.45 p.m. right after Glasvegas. Looking elfin as usual, yet dapper in a slim, black suit, Bobby Gillespie and the band launch straight into “Kill All Hippies,” with the familiar sample at the beginning sending thrills through the crowd. The guitars wail and wah, leading the band into another thrashing rock song, “Evil Heat,” showing off the band’s flair for mixing heavy dance synths with screeching guitars to send the song to a fever pitch.
With a swift right turn away from the Berlin disco sound, the band moves into “Country Girl,” a surprisingly newer track, as it could fit quite easily on Give Out But Don’t Give Up. A classic track from that record, “Jailbird,” followed. The loud organ and back up singers were sorely missed (the keyboard was lost in the stellar guitars), but the track still came through sounding full and extra lively. Gillespie finally started loosening up, flailing around the stage like a lanky sunflower, being as lively as he possibly could. Reconciling that soulful, passionate voice with the vacant, blank stare that is seemingly permanently on his expressionless face (with the odd grin even hour or so); he seems to be at his best when he’s completely lost in the words, bent over the mic, eyes closed.
The band soared through “Higher Than The Sun,” showcasing more of their talent to change lanes completely in a set, easily and often. With it’s trippy opening, looping dub and acid influence, Primal Scream defined a generation, and it’s amazing to see how well its aged on stage and how it’s still relevant today. In life, the track has much more depth with the layers really shining through and the band’s innovation become even more apparent.
Further along the band switched easily from heavy industrial electronica to lovey hippy flower power to speed punk rock to bluesy Britpop to pummeling dance beats, all without batting an eye and hardly a word between songs to the audience. The band almost (bar a few more tracks) round the night off with the ballsy rocker “Rocks,” a song that is still a timeless hit today, though many would say one of the band’s least innovative tracks. But it’s a crowd favorite nonetheless, and well after 2 a.m. the band finally wraps up, after a one and a half hour set of a non-stop trip with one of Britain’s greatest bands, leaving the guitars still wailing with feedback on the stage.
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