my own ode to sunshine: sxsw at the french legation
Even at its present massive size, SXSW can still sometimes feel like a little community picnic, sun-dappled, idyllic, with cold cans of Lone Star and paper plates of food - that type of thing. Or anyway it felt that way up at the French Legation on Thursday afternoon. (It helps to get away from 6th street.)
According to the dictionary, a legation is the official residence of a diplomatic minister - the French sent one of those bad boys to Austin back when Texas was a republic, and they built him a lovely home, which is now, apparently, the oldest frame structure in town, and demonstrably the best place to spend a sunny afternoon watching indie pop. The northern europeans invaded the Legation on Thursday; I caught the end of the Danish band Efterklang, and loved them, stuck around for the scots Camera Obscura, who even at half-vocal strength (one was ill) were damn good. In fact I should not have left - an important SXSW lesson is the old bird in hand. Another important lesson: do not attempt to bike up the hill to the French Legation. You will not make it.
Out at dinner our waiter was, naturally, a member the local band Great Nostalgic. If I get this post up in time it will be useful for you to know you can catch them (for free!) at Uchi, 801 S. Lamar, at 1:15 Saturday. If I don’t post in time, let’s expect to look back on it all fondly.
Blue Trenchcoat favorite M. Ward at Auditorium Shores was even better than we all had reason to expect - that guy puts on a surprisingly fiery show; he even duck-walked a little for his cover of “Roll Over Beethoven,” and closed out with his stellar version of local brilliant oddball Daniel Johnston’s song “To Go Home”: “I’ll be true to you/you know I will/I’ll be true to you/forever or until/I go home.”
Based on their excellent album Ode to Sunshine, I would have placed money that Delta Spirit were going to rip the roof off wherever they played. I saw them at the Courtyard St. Cafe; the architect ripped the roof off years ago (where are his groupies?), and maybe for that reason Delta Spirit didn’t quite match my expectations. Still, they were good, and I highly recommend the album.
There followed a period of wandering. I met two members of the Manhattan Love Suicides at the Driskill Hotel; they’re Jonathan Richman fans and must be good people.
I don’t think there’s a better club in Austin than the Continental, and I don’t think there’s a better band to see at the Continental than the Gourds - except maybe the Mother Truckers, who will be there tonight at 1:00 - so once again, I closed well. “Whoever said sleep is a thief just ain’t right in the head,” they sang, and I thought, amen, and went home to bed.