| Deck Chairs on the Titanic?
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SXSW 2003: Deck Chairs on the Titanic?
Friday 3/14, Austin, Texas: Here's Mr. Cyrano's take. The general
suckage in music is because it's been 1977 for years, and we've all been
waiting hard for it to turn 1978.
For those of you who didn't live through it the first time, those
pre-seminal dark years went something like this. A new young generation
of leathered pale music fans just couldn't stand even one more James
Taylor song ever, just as radio reached a new dribbly all-
Then one fine morning the sun came up, and we couldn't imagine life
without Elvis Costello, The Ramones, Blondie, The Police, Talking Heads,
and so much more. And life was good, for a time. Dare we hope that 2003
is the new 1978? Is it safe to go back into the record store at last?
Phair's Fare: Imagine you were the prettiest girl ever, and that
you were natively bright and sensible. Imagine that you had a wandering
talent that sometimes curled up, sometimes bit hard, and sometimes wasn't
ready to speak for itself. Imagine that you didn't like doing what you
were told, unless it was fun. Imagine that you tried on a few hats and
suddenly, somewhere in the middle of having a rollicking good time, you
were a darkling distaff sensation, and everyone wanted pieces of you that
you didn't even know you had. Liz? Is that you in there?
It's been five years since Phair's last album, and the new one is done and
in the pipe, and Phair is the guest at a public interview in the
conference center on the kind of afternoon that makes you want to say
"zephyrs." Even this emergence didn't rope most of the happy masses in
from their adventures in the afternoon venues, but that's the way of SXSW in the sunshine. The party always has the right of way.
Phair sang four songs lightly-
Now Hear This: For the first time in a long time, I'm in
foot-
I've never entirely been sold on Longwave (New York), and maybe
it's time for that to change. We join them tonight on the kickoff date of
their tour with The Raveonettes, Mooney Suzuki, and White Light Motorcade;
the room is close and intent and oversmoked, the lights livid, the sound
tangible, a thrill evident in the air. This is a tour to launch a
thousand college flings. Longwave is painterly with its application of
sound, here dappling and there lulling, never out of the frame and washing
the background, perhaps, with a palette that hasn't explored a full range
of colors. But purples and blues work for water lilies, and that's what's
called for here.
And then Copenhagen's The Raveonettes. This is a band that
fingered the upholstery in some vintage car one night, looked up at the
convertible stars, and thought the trip would be more fun if there was
slick shine and plush flash to perk up the firmament. So they played
some. Distortion roars through their twisted minor-chord cover of Buddy
Holly's "Everyday" like a Diamond-Dogs crowd, drones like a jet engine,
stings like a bee. I am transported. The post-media acid offspring of
The Cramps with the concentrated cool-froid of The Cars, this band
is the greatest bit of American swamp never to come out of America. Even
if the band name makes me want to sing a jingle every time I hear it
("Goobers and Raveonettes"), it's the high point of the night this night.
Close second tonight is also an import. Sahara Hotnights, the
four-piece girl-
And we're off. More as we have it. Pass the smoked turkey.
SXSW - www.sxsw.com
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