We close out our South By Southwest coverage with the final dispatch from chief assumer (and former Austinite) Andy Beta, who provided us with the outsider's perspective on the badge-littered, wristband-bordered maze that was getting into shows. In this installment, he finds a little bit of Texas, thanks to a barbecue and a band from Brooklyn.
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Thanks to the newly revitalized (we think) Gerard vs. Bear for this photo of Har Mar Superstar and Kirsten Dunst sharing a bite—and a hot-pink roller-rink top—during SXSW. We can't wait for the Us Weekly fashion police to chime in with their reliably hacky puntification: "Sean Na Na? More like a Sean Na NOT!"
The last day of SXSW coincided with St. Patrick's Day, which made for longer lines, drunker people, and lots of green beads being thrown around; along the way, we saw the festival's hands-down worst performance, an intestine-wobbling set by the Oakland sludgers Totimoshi, and some real tasty "Ice Cream."
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A brief list of SXSW odds and ends that, for whatever reason, didn't get their own posts:
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We closed out our SXSW with the Chicago band The Zincs, whose new album, Black Pompadour, comes out this Tuesday. We were charmed by their drony, witty pop, which had our heads bobbing the whole time; their too-brief set, which was marred only by blasts from the Blueshammer clone playing directly beneath them, served as a fine way to come down from a week of traversing through South By Southwest's maze of bands, waiting lists, and drunks:
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Ah, the perils of attending the "big" shows at SXSW—long lines, crummy opening acts, and, of course, other members of the crowd. Our report on bad behavior at Friday's Amy Winehouse show triggered this response from Idolator commenter JedTheMime:
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If there's one thing that's true about South By Southwest, it's that much of it is based on access—the combinations of badges, wristbands, hand-stamps, and nods that get people into and behind the scenes of shows can be downright dizzying. To figure out what, exactly, it's like to experience the festival with not so much as a wristband, we enlisted chief assumer (and former Austinite) Andy Beta to give us the outsider's perspective. In this installment, he checks out one of the many splinter festivals around town.
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We should have figured: It was the Friday of SXSW, the day before St. Patrick's Day, and around the time that Spring Break kicks in. Of course the day was going to be filled with long lines and piles of trash in the street; of course we were going to get sidetracked; of course our time out was going to end with us waiting for a cab in 50-degree weather. (Before we got into that cab, though, we stumbled into a party thrown by [name of major American retailer redacted, but let's just say that all the decorations were tasteful, yet low-priced] that was soundtracked by pumped-up remixes of "Sweet Child O' Mine" and "Oh Sheila." Seriously, is all you need to DJ these days a copy of Billboard's Hot Hits 1986 and a drum machine?)
Somehow, we were standing in the Bermuda Triangle of bad concert behavior during last night's Amy Winehouse show at La Zona Rosa—no matter how we shifted our position, we were in earshot of two people who were duking it out for the title of "who deserves a shove more":
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If there's one thing that's true about South By Southwest, it's that much of it is based on access—the combinations of badges, wristbands, hand-stamps, and nods that get people into and behind the scenes of shows can be downright dizzying. To figure out what, exactly, it's like to experience the festival with not so much as a wristband, we enlisted chief assumer (and former Austinite) Andy Beta to give us the outsider's perspective. In this installment, he watches as the Melvins join forces with a car company.
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We're at the halfway point of the SXSW Music conference, and we're feeling pretty good, snubs and cancellations notwithstanding. But we're still interested in whatever insider information you might have for us—especially if it involves rumors of secret shows or guerilla protests against Peter, Bjorn, John, and Perez. Send an e-mail to SXSW tipline, and we'll be happy to reward you with a comment invite.
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If there's one thing that's true about South By Southwest, it's that much of it is based on access—the combinations of badges, wristbands, hand-stamps, and nods that get people into and behind the scenes of shows can be downright dizzying. To figure out what, exactly, it's like to experience the festival with not so much as a wristband, we enlisted chief assumer (and former Austinite) Andy Beta to give us the outsider's perspective. In this installment, he impersonates a wrestling fan and misses out on some free shoe action.
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Idolator
Thanks to flight delays and hangovers, SXSW postmortems are still trickling in around the blogosphere; so far, the one that best dug into our vague feeling of seeing too much, yet not seeing enough during our time in Austin comes from 