SXSW sux

I really did intend to return from this music-business bonanza with rolls of film, tales of great episodes of drunkenness on the street (which I did encounter) and the discovery of bands certain to be embraced by the media in two months as the "next Nirva na." But every show was $10, and while perusing the Austin weekly for all the bands I couldn't wait to catch, I realized I really only wanted to see just three. And one of those was our very own Weird Lovemakers, appearing at the convention along with a n umber of Tucson/Phoenix acts. It was good to see the Weird Lovemakers threatening to once again put Tucson on the music map, and they were deservedly praised by the Austin weekly writers as one of South by Southwest's "picks."

After attempting to come up with every possible option to get into the Guitar Wolf show without having to pay the horrendous $10 for four other mediocre Matador bands, and failing, we resolved to show up for one of many "anti-South by Southwest" nights. As I mentioned, the locals are anything but fond of SXSW, which, like most "new music" conventions, has declined to the level of displaying a variety of random indie/alternative acts originating from take-your-pick cities who are talentless enough to just repeat the latest sound instead of inventing it. And you get to pay a lot of money for it.

Sure, it's seems noble that a city supports and revolves so much around current music that for four days out of the year major downtown streets are closed in honor of it. But the word on the street is that it's been years since the convention showcased a decent amount of good bands.

Even the "anti-SXSW" show (made up of Austin bands) was a dud, with the exception of the Motards, for whom I had to sit through four other bands just to see. Earplugs were in place for this louder-than-hell Texas band that could give a few lessons on sho wing a crowd how to have a good time. Sloppy as shit, the Motards drank, spit and manhandled more than a few young ladies in the crowd before the evening was through. Sounding like a wall of piercing noise, the Motards gave their obviously loyal and antic ipating fans fast punk that never came near any sort of melody. As if in anticipation, a member of the Reclusives, who played right before, leaned over and vomited on my friend's shoe in the pool hall.

By far the most exciting occurrence of the weekend was Weird Lovemakers' Jason Willis' realization that he had taken a place in line in front of Wiley Wiggins of "Dazed and Confuzed." Movie star encounter! A young Austin heartthrob who captured the hearts of many pining girls in Richard Linklater's post-"Slacker" movie, little Wiley spoke in person to two fresh teen females about the "negative energy" of a friend. Jason reported that Wiley's hair was long and he was sporting a punk-rock-style leather jack et. This incident happened outside of Austin's famous Emo's as the Smugglers and Hi-Fives, favorites among the pro-surf crowd, played. Wiley must be quite hip.

Another point of interest: attending two days of the world's largest record convention which happens every year during the music convention. Rumors were whispered about pre-Austin Record Convention swapping in top floor hotel rooms, as Japanese collectors doled out hundreds of bucks for punk rarities and what-not. Supposedly the best stuff was gone even before the doors opened for the convention. But, yeah, I was still there early.

And I'll be there again next year. South by Southwest ... not a blast, but more rewarding than spending your weekend in Tucson.