No one wants to hear about some crap new app or sponsored pedicab or the speaker who reminded us all "it's really about people" so I won't bore you with that shit. For me, SXSW doesn't start until the geeks board the nerd birds and go home.
Then it's time to see some shows.
(Oh and click on the pics if you wanna actually see them)
Reggie Watts @ GSD&M Party
Delta Spirit @ GSD&M Party
Shaky Graves @ The Parish
James McMurtry @ Dogwood
The Trishas @ Molotov
BOY @ Homeslice
Britt Daniel making out with his lady
Diego Garcia @ South by San Jose
Whisky Sisters @ Continental Club
Bruce Robison and Kelly Willis @ South by San Jose
Young Galaxy @ Homeslice
High Highs @ Homeslice
Billy Bragg @ Waterloo
The Relatives @ Waterloo
The Mavericks (w. Raul Malo) @ Waterloo
Divine Fits @ Auditorium Shores
Jim James @ Auditorium Shores
Flaming Lips @ Auditorium Shores
(worst show I saw. Totally self-indulgent new material)
Shaky Graves again @ South by San Jose
Alla-Las @ South by San Jose
Alla-las guitarist/young Keith Richards/Liam Gallagher
David Garza and Charlie Sexton @ South by San Jose
(filling in for Foxygen who bailed out)
Guys, I’m gonna come right out and say it. For the decade of 1985-1995, I was pretty much your biggest fan. I know everyone says that but I was the fucking fan champ. I'll bet one of you probably owns a country house or a dirt bike or some kind of mattress we don't even know exists that was bought largely by me. So, you’re
welcome. It was probably you, Bono. So you’re welcome.
So anyway the other night I was out
walking the streets of New York and dialed up ye ole Joshua Tree album and a few
songs in I was hit by the relative quiet and power of “Running to stand still.”
That’s a goddamn great song, gents.
There’s a restraint in that one.
There’s a warmth in those electric piano chords, in that texture lying just
beneath them. There’s that beautiful slide guitar. Christ, there’s harmonica.
When’s the last time you dusted off the harmonica, Bono? Rattle and Hum? So
here’s the deal.
Let me Rick Rubin you.
Let me get you back to where you were best. After all the mega tours and
the spiders-from-Mars stages and, frankly, after that whole disco-ball-lemon
thing you guys are beyond due for a scaled down record. A record that’s nothing
more than Irish soul, four guys in a room. It’ll be like an early Van Morrison
record or a late Nick Lowe record, maybe a Mumford rave-up bubbles up out of
it. But no leather, no ski caps, no muscle shirts, no weird facial hair, no
whatever that thing was where Edge got wrapped in rope while Bono popped in and
sang about feeling numb.
Let me Rick Rubin you.
Let me get you guys in a
room and lets cut some tracks. No distortion pedals, no soaring choruses, no
shades. Just an honest to god, multi-platinum album. We’ll probably have some beers, stay up too
late and I’d even be up for taking these sessions somewhere interesting. Like
say Dublin. Maybe that big ass hangar where y’all cut some of Rattle and Hum. Maybe Sun Studios. I'm flexible. And Bono,
I wouldn’t mind if you brought back the high pants and suspenders. I’ll let you
get back to it but think about it.