Getting Brave at PopScene

When we somehow found our way behind a crowd of rather absurdly tall people, a much shorter little trendster, bent on full-body dancing, leaned around me and said, “I have to get up to the front. The bassist is so cute.”

Admittedly, considering songs like “Tyrant,” “cute” may not be the first word that leaps to mind when thinking about The Bravery.

But as the band took the stage rather ruggedly – the lead singer clad in a full-length orange sweater, shirt and tie, which left him dripping with sweat by the second song – there was an unconscious stylishness to the NY boys.

Blasting their characteristic synth-pop, despite shoddy microphones that screeched throughout the set, the five-piece weaved crowd-faves from their first album with more subdued/generically-introspective songs from their forthcoming release.

The Bravery succeed most when they exert their more eloquent guitar-driven pop – the songs that are driven by ferocious, if not verbally simplistic, choruses, much like Franz Ferdinand. (“Fearless” could easily be a Franz song.)

But perhaps the boys are less successful when they have to ask us to listen in on what they’re really feeling deep down. The new single “Time Won’t Let Me Go,” from their forthcoming “The Sun & The Moon” seems to gasp at the edge of existentialism, but the songwriting is not quite strong enough to sustain the idea. (Plus, the chorus sounds distinctly like a Third Eye Blind song that I can’t quite place, and quite frankly, it’s driving me crazy.)

When The Bravery really get going though, hammering out “An Honest Mistake,” “Unconditional,” and “No Brakes,” it’s easy to love them.

Pop Rocks and Near-Riots

If I’d been waiting for something to blow my hair back, I did finally get my wish, and not in the place I had expected. While I might have thought that a young tenacious little upstart band might surprise me, it was actually The Stooges, that 70s outfit of now very-middle aged dudes fronted by shirtless wonder Iggy Pop, that really caught me off guard.

Almost as soon as it was announced that the venerable proprietors of punk rock would be playing at South by Southwest, in conjunction with promoting their new album “The Weirdness,” a line started forming around Stubb’s. And when I arrived, a few hours before the show, the line extended down the street and around the corner. While some concert-goers declared the line “sucktastic” and moved on to other venues, those of us who saw it through experienced The Stooges’ unmistakable fierceness as they cranked out classics like “I Wanna Be Your Dog” and “Lust For Life.”

Iggy paraded out on stage, bare-chested, running from end to end of the stage and jumping into the crowd. When he jumped into the pit of photographers in the front, every flashbulb in the house went off, and it’s a wonder a riot didn’t break out.

In comparison to the act that played before them, the Austin-based band Spoon, the Stooges were a shot of pure adrenaline. Not that Spoon didn’t put on a terrific performance, or prove their musical talent and worthiness, and not that there weren’t some die hard know-all-the-lyrics Spoon fans in the audience, but the crowd had come for Iggy.

It seems that bands of The Stooges’ era have a different mentality about what makes a great concert. It’s more than just a performance, it’s more than a lot of flashing lights and choreography, it’s more than just sounding good – it’s about being there, in the moment, with the fans. The Stooges were there, and they let you know it.

Lost in Beerland

It was St. Patrick’s day and everyone was out in full force, celebrating their Irish pride (or at least their beer-loving pride) by wearing green, drinking beer, and stumbling from bar to bar. In an effort to avoid the maddened thousands, I attempted to explore the lesser-known options.

March 17 – Essential Listening:
Malajube – “Montreal -40 C”
Takka Takka – “Draw a Map”
The Black Lips – “Boomerang”
Kings of Leon – “The Bucket”
Spoon – “I Turn My Camera On”
The Walkmen – “Louisiana”
Classic pick: The Stooges – “I Wanna Be Your Dog”


2:45pm
On the outside patio of La Habana the guest list line for the Nylon party wandered up toward the street, and inside the gate there was a full house awaiting a set from The Fratellis. Performing on the indoor stage was Takka Takka, who gave a solid effort with their harmonica-infused melodies. Disappointingly, The Fratellis played a rather passionless sit-down acoustic set – meaning that only a few people at the very front could actually see the band, and leaving the rest of us to wonder if they were actually here on the patio, or if we were just listening to a recording. “Flathead,” was of course, the big song everyone wanted to hear, but for my time, it would have been better to just watch the iPod commercial again.

4:30pm
Emo’s was killing me with the hand stamps this week. Seriously, I’m pretty sure some of that dark purple un-washable ink has leaked into my bloodstream. I was looking for a show, so I stepped into Emo’s Main Room, and suddenly realized that I was the oldest person there. I had a good five years on anybody else in the room. Kids in all of their faux-emo 17-year-old adolescent glory packed the place to see Cute is What We Aim For – who, from what I gathered, take their place along side acts like Gym Class Heroes and Fall Out Boy. (They have a track, “There’s a Class For This” on the just-released Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie soundtrack.) The hearts of all the young girls were a-flutter as Cute’s leader remarked how hot it was with his long-sleeved shirt on, and while all the boys stood their awkwardly, I ran for the door, trying to rub the dark purple goop off my wrist.

5:15pm
I wound up in Beerland, a dark netherland of a club, just before Stubb’s, where the Black Lips were readying their set. I’d heard that Black Lips shows could get crazy, and when the trio unleashed their dirty southern sound, the crowd dug in. Both the band and fans slurred and threw beer cans and people in front of the stage jumped up and down, drenched in sweat. A photographer snapped dozens of pictures, and when he headed back into the crowd to grab some girls and start a sloppy mosh pit, I once again knew it was time to get out.

Strip Down And Unplug

It’s been a few days into the all-you-can-hear musical buffet that is South by Southwest, and I’ve managed to see some pretty great acts. I’m still waiting to be stunned and amazed, but there’s a little time left before I surely succumb to my death by second-hand smoke.

March 16 – Essential Listening:
The Apples in Stereo – “Energy”
Scissors For Lefty – “Ghetto Ways”
Honeycut – “Shadows”
Bonde do Role – “Melo do Vitiligo”
The Faint – “I disappear”
The Good the Bad and the Queen – “Herculean”

4pm
I wandered down to Habana to get a dose of snap-happy rock from The Apples in Stereo. With their feel-good tracks “Can You Feel it?” and “Energy” at the start of the set, The Apples in Stereo’s sound lies somewhere between Sister Hazel and The Flaming Lips. While the keyboardist took the stage in a silvery pseudo-space suit with cape and yellow-lensed glasses, the rest of the band seemed exceedingly normal – a bunch of middle-aged guys happily singing about the “Same Old Drag.”

5:15pm
Spiro’s hosted a special showcase of San Francisco bands – including Minipop, The Lovemakers, Audrye Sessions, Honeycut and other local faves. Scissors for Lefty opened it up outside – playing their sixth of seven gigs at South by Southwest. If the boys were spent, you wouldn’t guess it, as they piped out “Lay Down Your Weapons” and went on to “Ghetto Ways.” While The Lovemakers’ Lisa Light sucked on a cigarillo, SFL’s lead singer, Bryan Garza, oozed a merry falsetto into the CB radio attached to the microphone, and jumped into the small crowd near the front to dance with the ladies. When he unbuttoned his jeans, I feared a Jim Morrison re-enactment, and shielded my eyes at the glare of tighty-whiteys. Keep ‘em buttoned, man.



9pm
Scurrying into the back of Antone’s I joined the crowd in front of the stage for Margot And the Nuclear So and So’s. They played a few new tunes, all working in their sound of mellow non-diagnosed depression, and then onto “Paper Kitten Nightmare” and (my fave) “Skeleton Key” from “The Dust of Retreat.”

10pm
When I heard that Sufjan Stevens’s collaborator My Brightest Diamond was performing, I was intrigued enough to lend an ear, and what I got was the pure vocal prowess of Shara Worden. While she surely can’t be more than five feet tall, her voice is huge, best evidenced when she covered Roy Orbison’s “It’s Over” toward the end of the set.

10:50pm
There was a line around Beauty Bar extending up past the next venue, as concert-goers turned out to catch Brazilian sensation Bonde do Role, and avert-your-eyes topless rap divas Yo Majesty. Go figure.

11:10pm
Licensing, schmicensing. Sao Paulo group Bonde do Role mix Portuguese rap over often-recognizable tracks like AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long” and selections from the “Grease” soundtrack with such flair that it’s a wonder ASCAP doesn’t just waive the normal constraints. Like the better-known CSS, Bonde do Role gives an edgy sound to highly danceable tracks, best exemplified on “Marina Gasolina.”

12:10pm
Squeezing into the Eternal just before The Faint took the stage, the venue was hot and about to get hotter, as groovy kids and older groovy kids danced to “Call Call” and “I Disappear.” The show was good and energetic – the right mix of psychedelic imagery in moving lights and pictures and reflective synth beats. And seriously, only a handful of men can get away with wearing eye liner after age 25 – David Bowie, the dudes from Depeche Mode, and Todd Fink from The Faint.

Elvis's Cold War Bloc Party

After the hot day in the sun yesterday, I took it easy last night and mellowed out to Elvis Perkins – the sort of rockabilly-meets-Belle and Sebastian son of late-actor Anthony Perkins. Perkins was all non-fuss and simplicity, crooning on the mic and breaking out the harmonica while his right-hand man played the stand-up bass and the rest of his band, Deerland, jammed on electric guitars and trumpets, finally parading out a big drum and trombone for their finale.

Perkins and Deerland also made a special guest appearance, bedecked in ‘80s sunglasses, for the finale of Cold War Kids, as they wailed and covered Sam Cooke’s “A Change is Going to Come.” Cold War Kids knocked it out of the park with the opening of their set – a bluesy, boozy rendition of “We Used to Vacation.” They slipped into more tired ground, but reinvigorated the crowd with “Hang Me Up to Dry" (Nathan Willett's protruding vocals are simply fantastic), and brought out the saxophones and Elvis for the last number.

I slipped off to catch the second half of The Dears at Stubb’s, a fairly fulfilling appetizer before the main course, Bloc Party. This being my third Bloc Party show in the last 6 months, I’m a bit worried about gaining stalker status. Opening with “Song for Clay” – the first song on their sophomore album, lead singer Kele Okereke hit all the high notes – literally. Putting the more vocally challenging songs at the beginning of the set, Bloc Party was able to mix up tracks from both albums and keep the fans happy, without straining their voices. The set didn’t blow anybody away, but Bloc Party is always a delight. (And yes, I am biased.)

Cedar Street Afternoon

“There’s nothing like being ridiculed by hipsters at 3 in the afternoon.” – Zach Galifianakis, cracking non-received jokes at Cedar Street’s day party

March 15 – Essential Listening:
Kenna – “Out of Control (State of Emotion)”
Youth Group – “Sorry”
Cold War Kids – “We Used to Vacation”
Bloc Party – “Song For Clay”
Maritime – “Parade of Punk Rock T-shirts”
The Fratellis – “Flathead”


3pm
It was a hot, sweaty day, especially if you happened to be a band member exiled to a day stage. So when I got the invite to check out Maritime at the indoor stage at Emo’s, I happily obliged. Despite being indoors, Maritime’s lead guitarist worked up quite a sweat letting loose on the guitar and cranking out some solid tunes.

4:45pm
In a little below ground stone patio, the Filter party strummed along happily – the party-goers in their faux-hip brightly colored finery. I must admit that I was lured to the party to see Kenna – the unlikely pseudo-star of Malcolm Gladwell’s thin-slicing treatise “Blink.” With the attitude of a hip-hop performer but with echoes of electronica and strong rock references, Kenna might not fall into any “category,” but delivers an impressive performance. If I was an agent, I’d do everything in my power to get him a slot as a Bloc Party opener – he has the right mix of energy and dancey-ness (if I can make up a word here) to pull it off.

5:40
A skinny balding man with a big backpack and a strange accent told me he was here to see Youth Group. He looked like a European mathematics grad student, and in a crowd that became mostly female toward the front of the stage, he definitely stood out. The girls were here to see the messily-cute Australian boys, who first scored big in the US with their remake of the Alphaville classic “Forever Young.” Youth Group seem to have two speeds: dreamily awake (“Daisy Chains,” “Start Today Tomorrow”) and surprisingly peppy (“Sorry”). I prefer the peppy.

7pm
Rounding out Filter’s afternoon was sleeper-sensation Badly Drawn Boy, who are out promoting “Born in the UK.”

Inside Austin City Limits

Since I’m at South by Southwest all week – I thought I’d provide some snippets from the fest, as well as a couple of tracks of “essential listening” each day – tracks you should download from artists you’ll be hearing much more from. So without further ado...

March 14 – Essential Listening:

Scanners – “In My Dreams”
The Needles – “Diane”
Beirut – “Scenic World”
The Mountain Goats – “This Year”
Smoking Popes – “I Know You Love Me”

3pm
Scanners at the day stage in the convention center – The lead singer belted out “Lowlife” to round out their set, rolling her eyes back and screaming gently before bursting into the popish happy melody and crooning with her charming English accent.

4:30pm
Screening of “Truth in Terms of Beauty” – a biographical portrait of photographer Herman Leonard who discovered how much he could like photography after glimpsing some artful nude photos of his sister-in-law.

He went on to be a successful fashion, catalogue, and yes, occasional Playboy pin-up photographer, travel the world, have children with beautiful women, and then wind up penniless at 67 years old. When he rediscovered some photos he’d taken in his youth of Duke Ellington, Dizzy Gillespie, Ella Fitzgerald, Miles Davis – now American icons – he made a come-back, and a bigger name for himself. Leonard always had another trick up his sleeve.

10pm
As Beirut started their 40-minute set, the band leader, a 21-year-old with a big voice from Albuquerque, New Mexico, apologized that they hadn’t been able to bring more ukuleles.

With seven band members - playing instruments ranging from drums to trumpet to violin and accordion – Beirut is a uniquely talented outfit. You get the sense that you could probably wheel out a pipe organ and at least one of the band members would know how to play it.

Part “Amelie” soundtrack, part Frank Sinatra, Beirut’s sound is nothing if not distinctive. Commonly labeled as “folk” or “gypsy,” when the band leader breaks out the bullhorn which he points toward the microphone and sings into, the truth may be that Beirut defies labeling.

Plus, that 21-year-old can really blow a trumpet.

11:20pm
Excited fans called out song titles, and the Mountain Goats artfully put some power behind “Going to Georgia,” from 2005’s Zopilote Machine, and “Half Dead,” from their 2006 release “Get Lonely.” But as excited as the fans were, the Goats themselves were most delighted at the finale of the show – they brought out the female Canadian quartet Pony Up!, who shimmied together on stage as the Goats covered Thin Lizzy’s “The Boys Are Back In Town.” Best moment of the day.

The Death Of The Pointed Toe Shoe

It's the last season for the pointed toe shoe, and with this in mind, I've been trying to maximize the wear of my current pairs. Not quite to the extreme that I wear them with everything ("Hey nice argyle leotard and pointy pumps!"), but as much as possible.

This morning, as I hastily pulled on my pointed toe boots, nervously dragging my duffle suitcase, laptop bag, and oversize purse down the two flights of stairs from my apartment to the street, an unexpected thing happened. My pointed toe slipped through one of the long straps of my duffle, just as I stepped forward, thrusting me down the second flight of stairs, onto my knee and hip and finally landing on my back, duffle bag straddled between my legs.

It must have looked like one of those slapstick banana-peel-slipping scenes from an old movie, but it felt like my guts were going to drip out my side. I didn't bust anything, but the side I landed on was tender, red, and bleeding, and will surely turn a brilliant blue and black.

While it might seem easy to blame any number of factors for this fall -- carrying too many things, hurrying while running late, being preoccupied with the parking ticket I knew I was going to get, gravity... personally, I blame the pointy toed shoe.

Had I been wearing, say, a rounded toe, a flat sandal, or (heaven forbid!) a clog -- this never would have happened.

In a seemingly generic plot twist, stolen from the likes of J. Lo flick "The Wedding Planner," this rather attractive man came sprinting down my street -- he'd jumped out of his car, which he was parking, to see if I was okay. Let's face it, pausing during the moment when you've found a parking spot in San Francisco is a heroic act indeed.