Wednesday

Wednesday. First day. A departure from my normal Thursday arrival. Not sure it paid off as this was the first time I've ever left better weather in Chicago for this trip. Warm and sunny in the Chi whilst Austin was socked in with heavy fog, wind, and a damp chill. Still, there was music to be heard and free beer to be had. So I boarded a plane with Tim, Pete, and Kyle at what felt like the crack of dawn. A few hours later and we had met Jeff and were headed to the Emo's Annex (a tent across the street from the real venue---so many places to see music that you don't even really need a building) where we caught a series of mediocre bands at the IODA opening bash (no idea what IODA is):

• The Twilight Sad. Boring, loud emo. Did I mention loud? I thought I was just getting old until I saw everyone in the tent clutching their ears and screaming. Then the band turned their amps up to 11. Songs might have been good, I just couldn't hear them over the din.
  
• Uncut. I liked their music...nothing special, but good guitar power pop. But the vocals...the vocals. Everyone in the band took turns singing---but none of them could sing...at all. Best part of the show was when the second (or lead, who can tell) guitarist's amp ceased to function. The rest of the band played on without him. Honestly, I could not tell the difference. Apparently the band felt the same and said repeatedly (half seriously?) that he was out of the band. (Apologies to anyone who read Tim's stuff already, and to Tim, as we saw some of the same shows and undoubtedly noticed some of the same stuff...)
  
• Apostles of Hustle. A Broken Social Scene side-project. Not bad...quirky Canadian pop with melody.
  
• The Black Angels. I liked these guys...for a while. Loud, dark, reverb-drenched guitars over a primitive, rolling, Bo Diddley beat pounded out by a female drummer who looked like she needed additional support. The sound really works...for four songs, then they all start to sound the same. I assume these guys (and gals) are in the Morphine limited-sound camp. One album is all you need, since everythign else is more of the same. In this case, I'll download four songs and be happy.

For dinner we stopped in to listen to Tim's friend Craig who was playing a set at THE worst restaurant in all of Austin. Honestly, though I complain about the cuisine limitations, I've really not had a bad meal there...until Wednesday. Water litterally laced with bleach. Inedible beans that looked like they'd dried out in an open can for days. Foul...but Craig sounded good. The evening was not packed with exciting bands and I was moving slow the rest of the night due to unfortunate menu choices. Luckily, whatever nasty microbes I had picked up were not tolerant of liquor. By the end of the night they troubled me no more. So, here's the night sets:

• Shapes Have Fangs. Nothing special band bounced between aping The Shins and playing off-kilter, high energy, new wave tunes.
  
• The Channel. A fun Austin 9-piece billed as country, but they were more feel-good, updated, old-timey music with a great guitar sheen. Fun, light, and energetic.
  
• White Denim. More local Austin kids making waves in the blogosphere. And I don't use "kids" lightly here---the bassist looked to be 12. Litterally. But, wow, he could play. White Denim sound to me like the illegitimate offspring of Primus and The John Spencer Blues Explosion; with blurted vocals and squawking guitar set wildly akimbo by frenetic rhythms. I loved 'em!
  
• The Subjects. It seemed like the bulk of the bands I saw this year were from either Austin or Brooklyn. This was the first NYC contingent and they were not bad---catchy indie-rock melodies. But truth be told, I was more focused on the amazing Dallas/Phoenix double overtime game on the TV (wow, Amare Stoudamire is a beast!).
  
• Experimental Aircraft. One of my favorite Austin venues---The Blender Balcony at the Ritz---it still reminds me of a secret, swanky cock-fighting arena with private boxes for the well-heeled gamblers. The audience looks down on the band from piped-in tables. The band, a coed shoegazer outfit, took forever to set up and were unremarkable in their sound. So after Pete tossed his own experimental aircraft (a paper airplane that sailed right down the steps), we took leave of the place. Or tried to---the exit was blocked by a guy who had tumbled down the stairs and lay in a bloody heap with security feverishly checking him out. I don't think he slipped on the paper plane...
  
• Cyann and Ben. The night ended with French critical darlings and a nap. Another great venue, the Ale House, with its own uniquely elicit feeling. The bar is only accessible from the alley with a blinking neon sign reminiscent of the roaring twenties. Inside, the soft, quiet sound of the band lulled me to sleep. (Hey, it had been a long day.) I wasn't the only one, Tim slept on his feet, hard enough to dream and be surprised when waking that he was still attending a concert...Hey, it was 2:00 a.m. and we'd been up since 5:30 a.m. the day before, cut some slack. Plus, the show was boring (no matter what Pete says).

All and all, unremarkable at best. Not much to take from the day. I did like the Black Angels sound, White Denim's energy, and The Channel's fun...but still a disappointment. Luckily, things got better quick on Thursday!