South By Southwest 2011: Thursday 3/17/11

Local café the Spider House has become particularly busy with SXSW every year, hosting a ton of free shows with some great acts, including this afternoon’s Australian-heavy lineup. A solid show by the Chevelles led off the day, with essentially a duplicate of the set I saw Wednesday afternoon. The power pop group was followed by Austin quintet the Ugly Beats, a 60s garage rock revival act in the truest sense. The band isn’t interested in retro fetishism, but rather uses the original era as inspiration for its own distinctive originals like “Bee Line.” In addition to playing cuts from its excellent recent record Motor, the Beats also mixed in some garage and punk nuggets from Down Under, including a genuinely poppy take on Radio Birdman‘s “Do the Pop.”

It was back to Birdman’s country of origin for the next act, Grand Atlantic. The quartet’s recent LP How We Survive revealed an ambitious group with widescreen tendencies, but this afternoon’s set was dedicated to more forthright rocking. Frontdude Phil Usher‘s voice commands attention and lead guitarist Morgan Hann‘s 12-string and effects pedals lent the tunes a psychedelic edge, giving melodic rockers “Chaos Theory,” “Cut From Stone” and the moody “Voyager” plenty of character. An enthusiastic cover of the Kinks‘ “Til the End of the Day” fit right in with the band’s aura. Tons of promise here.

Next up was Melbourne’s Level Spirits, a complete turnaround from the burly and post-psyche edge of the rest of the afternoon. Fronted by singer Miss Molly Jean Morrison and ex-*Stems* guitarist Julian Matthews (on a beautiful Gretsch hollowbody), the quartet eschewed any musical influence past 1960 or so for a contemporary take on roots rock and jazzy R&B. If that sounds like a way of trying to get around using the term “rockabilly,” that’s intentional – the latter may be the band’s base, but calling them rockabilly revivalists would be inaccurate. The Spirits focus ‘billy’s wild energy into tight bursts of sultry vocals, swinging rhythms and spitfire guitar, giving “Double Crosser,” “Bad Habit” and “It Takes a Woman Like Me” a perfectly modern edge. Matthews was the musical backbone, but Morrison is definitely the star – when she burned her way through the slinky, soulful “Man of My Dreams,” there probably wasn’t a heterosexual dude in the room who didn’t wish he was the titular object of affection. Definitely a band to keep an eye and ear on.

One walk downtown later, I was ensconced in the infamous Antone’s for a set by another group inspired by the 1950s. The Jim Jones Revue mainlines its inspiration directly from Little Richard, Chuck Berry and Jerry Lee Lewis, filtering it through the MC5/Stooges/New York Dolls axis from which Jones bountifully drew in his previous bands Black Moses and Thee Hypnotics. If that’s not a recipe for supercharged rock & roll, the cookbook has been lost forever. The U.K. quintet ripped through a half-hour’s worth of tunes from its latest LP Burning Your House Down (which inexplicably has no U.S distribution, by the way), plus prior material, as if it was its last gig in this world. Guitar and piano solos abounded but never went on past their expiration dates, and while the band’s tightness was something to behold, the focus was squarely on Jones’ elegant, feral swagger. Fireballs like “Elemental,” “Shoot First” and “512” (“about Austin, Texas,” Jones announced, namechecking several hotspots in the breakdown) masquerade as songs, but really they’re shots of pure adrenaline delivered right to your cerebral cortex. Even when the band slowed down (a relative term) with the grinding “Cement Mixer,” the energy level could’ve lit up Chicago for a week. If you’ miss the sense of sex and danger that used to be inherent in rock, the Jim Jones Revue is the medicine your poor, sick soul has been craving. Balls-out rock & roll personified.

I made a quick stop at the Paste day party at the Stage On Sixth Street for John Vanderslice, an artist highly recommended to me by a friend. I didn’t rate Vanderslice after being disappointed by a record a good ten+ years ago, but his brief set accompanied by a drummer doubling on synth bass and a violinist triggering samples made me realize what a mistake that was. Vanderslice’s personable vocals and strong writing combined with the quirky arrangements for a great example of what indie rock can do in the hands of someone creative and with a strong sense of craft. Must investigate this man further.

Then it was on to Barbarella and my annual visit to the Small Stone throwdown. The venerable Detroit label has been releasing the best in indie heavy rock for over a decade at this point, and showcased some of the best of it tonight. Leading off was the Might Could, the new gang led by guitarist/songwriter Erik Larson of the sadly defunct Alabama Thunderpussy. Less groove-laden that ATP, the Could laid down some hellacious riffs and ferocious vocals, building a wall of grunge with more musical subtleties than it might first appear. Despite a retooled lineup (drummer Ryan Wolfe severed his tendon the week before, so lead guitarist TJ Childers filled in at the kit, which meant no flashy guitar solos), the band’s set, from the lumbering opener “Stone Colossus” to the blazing closer “Mad Dog Blues,” was a beast of stunning power.

Following that was no mean feat, but Lo-Pan managed admirably. The Midwest quartet has size 15 feet planted in two different eras – the 70s hard rock that’s the base for nearly everyone on Small Stone, and the widescreen 90s prog metal of bands like Tool. Guitarist Brian Fristoe relies as much on texture as riff, allowing bassist Skot Thompson to carry a lot of the weight, while vocalist Jeff Martin (who stood behind the musicians instead of in front) soared above the sonic edifice. The band’s penchant for boogie kept the tunes (mostly from its brand new album Salvador) from getting ponderous, and with the closing “Generations,” the band has its aesthetic-defining epic. On the basis of this, Lo-Pan is likely on its way to metal stardom.

As good as the Might Could and Lo-Pan are, though, for me the night was owned by Sasquatch. The veteran L.A. trio plays the Small Stone event nearly every year, but it seems to get better every time. The band boasts more melody than most hard rock acts of its kind, and guitarist Keith Gibbs‘ soulful singing also sets it apart. But it’s the songwriting that really makes Sasquatch something special – you could strip the distortion and heavy riffola from “Barrel of a Gun,” “Glass Houses” and the always spectacular “Pull Me Under” and you’d still have great songs. The band drew from all three of its studio LPs, concentrating especially on the excellent III, and went out in barnburning style with (appropriately) “Get Out of Here.” Sasquatch proved once again why it’s one of the jewels in Small Stone’s shiny crown.

Another crosstown trip got me in to Nuvola before the crush of aging hipsters arrived for the U.S. return of Edwyn Collins. After a decent set by Spanish garage rock troop Tokyo Sex Destruction, there was a lengthy set change, then a cheer went up as Collins made his way through the crowd. There’s no question that his physical powers have diminished due to his brain hemorrhages five years ago – he walks with a cane, has no use of his right arm, speaks in a halting tone and sat on a case with a music stand of lyrics throughout the performance. But his singing voice is still compelling and he has a catalog of songs that can’t be denied. Backed by a band mixing old veterans (including stalwart bandmates David Ruffy on drums and Sean Reed on keyboards and sax) and young musicians inspired by and/or mentored by him, Collins drew from his deep well of quality songwriting, mixing tunes from his excellent new LP Losing Sleep (“It Dawns On Me,” “What is My Role,” “In Your Eyes,” with special guests the Drums) with solo nuggets (“Make Me Feel Again,” “Shilly Shally”) and a trio of Orange Juice tunes (“Rip It Up,” “Dying Day,” “Falling and Laughing,” which he described as “my first song”). The pioneering soul/new wave hybrid of the latter still sounds fresh 30 years later, and it’s a tribute to the man’s still-thriving creativity that the new songs hold up quite nicely against the classics. He ended the set with, of course, “A Girl Like You,” standing up, pushing his case and music stand aside, and commanding the microphone as if no illness ever happened. To say he left the stage in a hail of cheers and applause is an understatement. Not just amazing but downright inspiring, this set proved that, while his health may not be as robust as it was, Collins’ talent still shines.