SXSW Day 2: Hard Candy Shell

Male Bonding, bro-ing down

There’s a saying about best-laid plans. I had every intention of treating this day like an Everlasting Gobstopper. Hard, tough rock candy on the outsides, with a cool, gooey center. Forget all that. There’s no point in trying to arrange ideas in Austin. There were lots of things I wanted to see today (Oh hai SALEM, Sleigh Bells, Warpaint, G-Side, Let’s Wrestle, Hunx & His Punx, etc etc.) No matter, I still had an exceptional, dare I say, emotionally uplifting SXSW experience. Things started innocently and horribly enough as a foolish trip to an uptown sneaker store (I have a weakness for Air Force 1s) resulted in getting locked out of a few afternoons shows, including the much-ballyhooed Sleigh Bells/NPR showcase. No worries. Instead, I parked it at the Eastbound and Found show, a sprawling outdoor affair, and took in recent Pitchfork Best New Music inductee The Morning Benders, a band I hadn’t paid too much attention to in the past. They changed that with a terrific set of pastoral indie rock, perfect for relaxing in the high grass with the sunshine splashing on your face, SPF-free. Their new album, Big Echo, will be at eMusic on April 6^th, exciting for fans and newcomers alike. I was truly stunned by how pretty and insistent their sound was.

Japandroids, close to the flesh

After a snafu that resulted in a missed Titus Andronicus set, a friend and I hustled to Red Fez and the Death + Taxes day party. There, Japandroids tore through a fast, incredible set. Part-emo, part seventies power-pop, part crotch-thrusting rockers, they nailed every thrashing moment.  Truly one of the most dedicated, hair-swinging young live bands working, their fierce two-piece sound was amazingly alive and vicious and unruly in the sweaty confines of Red Fez, a small club on 6^th St. They nailed the favorites from their stellar debut, Post-Nothing—“Wet Hair,” “Heart Sweats,” and especially show closer “Young Hearts Spark Fire”—and had a mid-day frenzy on their hands.

Two plates of beef brisket later, hometown boys Harlem were slopping and sneering their way through songs at Red 7 Patio. Though admittedly obnoxious, they were compelling. Their shouted three-part harmonies and duty-switching (guitarist becomes drummer and vice versa) are unlike anything I’ve ever seen from an indie rock band, as they screamed and smirked through ten or so songs, including a few from their upcoming album, Hippies, on famed indie Matador later this spring. I was skeptical of these guys, but am now convinced of something. Is it love? Maybe not. But they’ve got a likeably spiteful presence.

After those dudes, I saw another band with an exciting upcoming album: Recent Sub Pop signee Male Bonding, a bile-spitting trio from the U.K. who play a weird combination of fiery and tuneful punk, alternately Wall of Sound-esque and Dead Kennedys-pissed. They’re fast and surf-like; an indelible combo. They knocked out eight songs from their great debut, Nothing Hurts, in less than 25 minutes at a thrilling Sub Pop showcase, flexing their pop instincts during a cute group performance with recent tour mates Vivian Girls (who rocked out in the front row during the entire set) on the rapturous acoustic song, “Worst To Come,” while slashing through their best song, “Pumpkin,” closing things with fury and fire. These guys feel destined to have a slept-on album. Don’t sleep!

Boy, I’ve sure written a lot about Titus Andronicus and their sad, brilliant masterpiece of an album, The Monitor. So here’s some more! Unlike their record release party in New York two weeks ago, the band were majestic and tight as all get out at The Beauty Bar/ The Palm Door tonight. There’s so much to say about how unrelenting and true to the long, riotous songs that appear on The Monitor they were. I’ll save it. Joe and I were there together for the show and we frequently looked at each other in amazement (and occasionally pumped our fists) during their set. This is truly one of the most important bands working. If you haven’t heard The Monitor, go give yourself a gift.

I closed things out with a cheery set from Dum Dum Girls, the Sub Pop sweethearts who have bridged the gap between lo-fi glamor and pop star grace. The four women onstage, lead by intrepid, gifted frontwoman Dee Dee, played songs from their fabulous upcoming debut, I Will Be. “Bhang Bhang, I’m a Burnout” is my favorite and I hustled, ditching my eMu posse, to the front of the stage as soon as they leaped into it. Great things, rock music, friendship!

Apologies to the aforementioned bands, as well as Mayer Hawthorne, our pals in The Pains of Being Pure At Heart, Surfer Blood, Broken Social Scene, and on and on and on. This is always an overwhelming experience. Catch you all tomorrow.