For me, the true harbinger of spring is the arrival of the SXSW Music and Media Conference in Austin, Texas. Or rather, spring begins for me when I arrive in Austin for SXSW. With upwards of 2,200 bands and more than 20,000 attendees from around the world, SXSW is the world’s premiere music conference. Even better, it is one heck of a party.
Over the next few days I’ll be sharing some of my highlights from SXSW 2015.
LET THE MUSIC PLAY
Rappers and DJs. DJs and rappers. It’s not surprising, of course, that it was hard to avoid these commercially popular genres at this year’s SXSW. But try, I did, save for a detour to catch a bit of B.O.B. on Saturday night.
Set that aside, however, and the musical themes tended towards bluesy garage rock and sugared pop. Both were well-represented and welcome. Young L.A. power popper Dylan Gardner was an electrifying discovery as were Canada’s horn-driven The Wet Secrets. Australia’s Courtney Barnett, New York City’s Hollis Brown and Norway’s Death By Unga Bunga leapt from the garage to the stage with their electric rock performances. Then there were artists like Andy Frasco & the U.N. and Low Cut Connie that blended the two sounds.
Americana was well represented, as it should be This ran the gamut from the acoustic troubadours like Ryan Culwell and John Moreland to honky-tonkers like JP Harris and Whitey Morgan and the 78s.
Perennial favorites like Archie Powell & the Exports and Austin natives Jon Dee Graham and James McMurtry helped make this year’s event a musical triumph.
A RETURN TO ROOTS
This year’s SXSW was a return to roots, well sort of. A lot of the corporate excess (I’m looking at you, Doritos) and superstars (I’m looking at you, Kanye) crashing the party were noticeably absent, increasing the focus on lesser known and emerging bands. Hallelujah, I say.
DON’T RAIN ON MY PARADE
Yes, it rained this year. A lot. Yet the torrential Friday downpour and the steady Saturday rain failed to dampen the spirits and energy of the music-loving crowd.
Perhaps the weather did partially give rise to this year’s wildcard theme — hats. It was hard to avoid ’em. Fedoras, beanies, cowboy hats, trucker caps, buffalo hats and even the occasional straw hat could be found at every turn. I, of course, brought one of my own for rain protection — a standard issue Red Sox cap that got a fair amount of attention and even got me into a capacity club. Happily, I didn’t encounter a single Yankees fan.
About the author: Mild-mannered corporate executive by day, excitable Twangville denizen by night.