From the outset today feels hectic. Essentially it is the climax of this year’s festival and there are people and police absolutely everywhere. Conceptually it’s something like an amalgamation of Leicester Square on a Saturday night and a weekend day ticket for Reading/Leeds Festival.

In contrast, we’re representing the slacker generation, and ‘take it easy’ this morning, allowing our ears to breathe by avoiding bands until approximately four/five pm. Then we head north to Waterloo Park, part of the University of Texas Campus, for the aptly-named ‘Mess With Texas’ outside festival.

First on the smaller stage we catch the hotly tipped Crystal Antlers. Having missed them in their recent trip to the UK I’m pleasantly surprised to find them playing here in the huge Austin Park. They are noisy and they are fun, and play to a sizable gathering of people, presenting a lovingly crafted facsimile of the new wave of the US lo-fi indie noisenik genre. Following this I grab some overpriced beer and watch The Soft Pack, which is apparently a reference to a pack rocked by pre-operation transsexuals. It’s difficult to take a band that’s named in this way very seriously. They aren’t really particularly rocking, in spite of being pimped by the music media in the UK, however you can see why, as a mixture of garage rock (using the same lexicon as the legendary Hot Snakes) and pop hooks with a vibe akin to Vampire Weekend.

I clocked Keith Morris from the Circle Jerks enjoying Annihilation Time earlier this week, but was denied to see the aging punk’s performance by having to ‘wait in line’ for too long at one of their official showcase, so I’m keen to watch the performance. Expectations amongst my cohorts and I are low. Everybody knows that any bunch of forty something’s that reform a band of their youth, merely existing for the sake of nostalgia, and playing the same songs that they wrote in their teens, cannot possibly be good. Can It? No it can’t. In terms of being absolutely tragic, it’s worse than we ever expected…dire. Keith Morris exceeds his reputation as being a bit of a deranged prick with on-stage ranting and admission of his cocaine and alcohol excesses.

With all bar one of the original line up, they play classics such as ‘Beverly Hills’, ‘Wasted’ and the majority of the ‘Group Sex’ album as well as a few Black Flag covers. The set’s only redeeming quality was the younger punks who spent the entirety of the forty minutes set voraciously stage diving, back flipping and crowd surfing. This was unfortunately balanced out by the ultimate low point; a lacklustre rendition of ‘Nervous Breakdown’, in which they entrusted the totally redundant duty of second guitar to fellow aging LA punk Jody of The Bronx fame.

Disappointed, we head to the nearby Woodsist Records showcase for a nu-psychedelic performance from Oregon’s Eat Skull. Sonically occupying a similar niche to Times New Viking (who also put out releases on the Silkbreeze label) but with a distinctly West Coast vibe, their show consists of smashing around already suffering keyboards, being horrendously loud and raw, with a smorgasbord of antics that do little to disperse rumours floating round that they are currently exceedingly stoned and under the influence of large amounts of acid. Whether this is the case or not is of little consequence: they’re great either way.

Next on are The Woods, which consists of members of the New York indie-pop band Meneguar. The Woods deliver an enjoyable set of simple, delicate audio pictures that remind me a little in some bizarre way of a less straight-up version of Death Cab for Cutie, with slightly strained, childish vocals which sometimes come across beautiful, sometimes ugly. This being said, they can seem a little impersonal and wishy washy at times.

Next stop, US booking Agency Panache’s showcase at Bar Mohawk. We queue for almost an hour to get in while hearing The Mae Shi from inside, as the fire marshals check the capacity of the venue in relation to how full actually is. PRE buzz one out when we get inside, a raucous set of smashing up drums, rebuilding drums, and messing with their audience, in this intimate venue. They play a mixture of new unreleased songs and their older more well-known numbers, generally written about penises.

Health blow out the right side of the PA with an intense barrage of incessant, syncopated and intricately structured noise. Flowing and highly rhythmic, it’s an impressive and well-executed display to a rapturous crowd, who wait with baited breath on each development within their highly disciplined premeditated wall of sound. There is a sense of purity, freedom and innovation within their messy noise, which is bound by the discipline of precisely targeted spontaneity. After this we are treated to our second serving of Monotonix today, a similarly theatrical, churlish assault, similar to their earlier performance at ‘Mess with Texas’. This time however they manage to drag at least five hundred spectators out of the venue’s grounds, away from the PA to the street outside, which is no meagre feat.

On our way home we go via the La Marr Bridge to see Psychedelic Horseshit play an incongruent but entertaining show, taking us up to approximately four in the morning. As the last note rings out, the official shows of SXSW and the majority of the unofficial shows are done. So are we. Exasperated from sleep deprivation, hectic scheduling and the entropy that is SXSW 2009, we retire to our rented apartment for the last time, before hopping into an airport-bound taxi and getting the hell out of Austin.

Despite how shattered I am feeling at present I can’t wait for SXSW 2010.

Steve

http://lovvers-letscommunicate.blogspot.com/