"But I'm Writing a Story on the Band

[March 23rd, 2005]

^Thursday, 11:15 am

Robert Plant interview at the Austin Convention Center.

Robert Plant's telling a story about the first time Led Zeppelin met Elvis. The 1,500 or so folks packed into the conference room for this keynote interview are attentive, in anticipation of retelling the epic tale.

This room, after all, is packed with music-industry folk. Industry folk, that is, who have come to this year's South by Southwest Music and Media Conference in Austin, Texas, because they've built their lives dealing in the grand mythology of rock 'n' roll. And because for four days they get to try to create their own mythology while rubbing elbows with management and sharing hot tubs with the talent. This is summer camp for the music industry, but not for music fans who spent $150 for a wristband only to stand in line for hours watching publicists, writers, photographers and promoters, all with "I'm industry" lanyards swinging around their necks, slide into the clubs. My lanyard is tied to my belt loop in an attempt at anonymity. But when I repeat the Robert Plant story later, while in line to buy a gyros on 6th Street, I've blown my cover.

^Friday, 4:15 pm

Bloc Party at Stubb's

The hype machinery at work here guarantees hopelessly long lines stretched down 6th Street, while hopefuls scrap for invitations to exclusive afternoon barbecues. London's Bloc Party has a good seat on that hype machine, playing right before the reunited New York Dolls at the Spin magazine party, but midway through this rendition of their hit "Like Eating Glass," the players look scared out of their minds. Leadman Kele Okereke is dealing with technical difficulties and a band that can't seem to dig a good hook out of its art-punk. No one seems to care too much, what with all the free smokes, shoes, haircuts, beer and BBQ floating around. You could make away with a lot of branded swag that won't be worth anything by the time you get home.

^Friday, 11 pm

Calla at the Ritz

I'm at the Ritz to see Stars play, only to realize, about three songs into the set, that I'm listening to Calla. Stars are scheduled to play on Saturday. The schedules aren't that confusing, but still I'm confused. A series of arm-wrestling contests break out, all soundtracked by Calla, which is pleasantly up to the task, building into a testosterone-pumping crescendo that allows me to overtake my friend Emily and claim victory. Then Hawthorne, California's Dios Malos goes on and destroys everyone.

^Saturday, 1:15 am

The Vacation at Jackalope

It only takes a single performance to make a SXSW trip well worth it, and for the 100 people slammed into Jackalope to hear the Vacation, this is it. Say what you will about self-flagellating butt rock (and this is not ironic butt rock: these Los Angeles guys wear their tight pants seriously)-at least it encourages interaction with the audience. Even if that interaction consists of insults, creepy staredowns and the lead singer wiping his bare sweaty chest all over the crowd.

^Saturday, 4:50 pm

The Hold Steady at Emo's Jr.

With more than 1,000 bands vying for attention during this festival, seeing one band three times just doesn't seem fair. But it's definitely doable, so here I am at Emo's Annex for my third Hold Steady show of the weekend (the band plays four times). By now I have memorized a good chunk of "Your Little Hoodrat Friend" from the upcoming release Separation Sunday, and I've become convinced that Hold Steady songs need more polyrhythmic clapping from the audience and that the band agrees completely. But the way Craig Finn sputters and spits while unraveling his fictive kaleidoscope of Midwestern life, I can't tell if he's overjoyed or going to jump down and knee me in the balls. Good thing lead guitarist Tad Kubler is too busy strangling riffs out of his instrument to pay the obnoxious behavior in the crowd any mind.

^Saturday, 11:15 pm

Stars at the Ritz

We've got the right night, but there's about 100 people in line. Wedging into the front of the industry line, the photographer and I claim to be working on a big story (which we are) and, after some cajoling, are waved in. But after all that haggling, I can't remember why I wanted to see Stars. And after the show, I still can't think of a reason.

^Sunday, 1:27 am

Against Me! at Emo's Annex

The space in front of the stage is filled with fans in black T-shirts, fists raised to the sky, pointing and pumping in perfect time as the rabble shouts along to Against Me!'s tirades. While being ping-ponged about, my lanyard down at my waist, I pretend to be one of the crowd as I raise my fist, dance and shout. But I don't know the words and end up singing something akin to "FRAAAAAA FAAA DAAAA DREH." I think they're on to me.