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Columns Friday On My Mind Friday On My Mind: Austin Full Of Grace
Columns Friday On My Mind Friday On My Mind: Austin Full Of Grace | Friday On My Mind: Austin Full Of Grace |
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| Written by Jim Walsh | |
| Friday, March 21, 2008 at 11:15 AM | |
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Last Sunday morning as the city that never goes to sleep (Austin, Texas during South By Southwest) prepared to recover from its annual onslaught of free spirits, room 514 of the Hampton Inn was finally quiet. Six or seven of us had commandeered the room, band- or college dorm room-style (cheap) for the week. Luggage, laptops, swag, toiletries, and bodies were everywhere. Odors, too.  Breakfast Of Champions - photo by Stacy Schwartz The Reveille site. Which, it needs to be noted, did not exist at this time last year. It all started in April 2007 when Pulse Of The Twin Cities went down and the first of the newspaper lay-offs and buy-outs were starting to squelch voices and information and Andrea Myers emailed a few of her favorite writers: “We should do something.”  The Reveille staff representin' outside Iron Works BBQ - photo by Stacy Schwartz To wit: I wrote a piece about the November Bruce Springsteen concert here and, while I didn’t receive a dime for it, I did receive this hand-written note: “Dear Jim,Crazy. And what happened in Austin was a testament to all of the above, to the Minneapolis/St. Paul music scene in general, and as proud a moment as I have ever experienced in this writing game. Truth be told, I have been in bricks-and-mortar newsrooms that haven’t generated the kind of energy and excitement that was harnessed for those five days and nights by those kids and their revolution-in-the-making laptops.  Stacy Schwartz interviews Ira Elliot of Nada Surf - photo by Andrea Myers There were Steve McPherson and Kyle Matteson, two music dudes whose taste and breadth belie their ages. I eavesdropped on their late-night murmurs in our hotel room, and heard the language of magic and minutia that only music freaks are privy to. I watched the two of them standing next to each other at the Reveille party as Doomtree tore Austin a new hole, and they in turn tore it up together, rhyming and dancing and shouting, and they reminded me of all the great fanzine moguls, record store clerks, and “High Fidelity” kids who have come before them.  Andrea Myers fortune at Wok 'N Roll at the MSP airport - photo by Stacy Schwartz  Jim and a protester at the Austin anti-war parade on March 15 - photo by Stacy Schwartz Bottom line, I feel blessed these days. Specifically, here’s a few SXSW things I was grateful for: Kate Walsh. She’s no blood relation to me, but this Brighton UK native has got the sort of beyond-whining broken heart that could be transplanted into you or me or yours. First thing I did when I got home was buy her CD “Tim’s Room,” which hasn’t left my headphones since. Flat-out brilliant. Billy Bragg. “I’ve got faith in you,” he sang to overflow crowd after overflow crowd, and we responded in kind. Admittedly, his “Waiting For The Great Leap Forward” has often sounded like a reality that will never come, but these days it sounds like it’s coming to fruition, and the cavalry is coming. Romantica. Unassuming, unrelenting, unforgettable. Doomtree. Smart, savvy, streetwise, stunning. Dessa had the line of the night: “Did you hear Britney Spears is getting back together?” Ian MacLagan and the Bump Band. My friend Kristi and I met at the Lucky Lounge, where Mac holds forth every week. She goes most all the time and testifies to what an old-school blues-rock gas it is. And that it was. For me, seeing this co-founder of the Faces transplanted into a Austin dive was yet another example of how music can take you down paths you never could predict. KaiserCartel. The coolest/sweetest duo of the fest. Their “The Season Song” is the most uplifting thing I’ve heard in ages, and if it’s not some kind of commercial hit this time next year, I will eat myself.  Jim Walsh goofing around at his book signing - photo by Stacy Schwartz “Getting Your Song Into Video Games” panel. To a capacity room, industry players and hungry next-big-thingers listened to strategies for hooking kids on songs. Across the hall, Mick Jones – y’know, the old guy from the Clash who wrote “Stay Free” – was half-baked in a half-empty room and had about as much relevance to the goings-on next door as a rocking chair has to a rocket ship. My Morning Jacket. Kyle played me this in the wee hours one morning, and I would not have heard it had I not been sleeping in the same bed with him. Like I said, I am one grateful cat. More to come… |
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| Last Updated: Friday, March 21, 2008 at 04:30 PM |
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