It’s only fitting that I make a marked return to The Last Drop for South by Southwest Coverage. After all, last year, I was running at a stellar clip, blogging each night to capture my first impressions of this noise explosion that overuns Austin. No live blogging this year. However, I attempt to actually further everyone’s knowledge by sharing a piece of each band that I saw. Overall, I think I upped the number of bands I had never heard and reduced the pursuit of super hyped shows (read: I stole back the 6 hours of my life spent chasing Kanye /Jay-Z/Vevo from last year) which is more of a feat than you would imagine as there was a terrible glut in mainstays making an appearance at the festival. Alright, talk is cheap, and type is even cheaper. Let’s get it on.

Day 1
Fader Fort
Alice Smith – first show of the day after a long travel cycle to get to Austin thanks to SFO and United (without you two, who knows how many more places I would go on time…). Fader seems content to give you a glimpse at the very near future and rarely a hard look at the truly new world prospects. Alice was no different than this formula – all the gusto and wail of a ’60′s R&B/blues singer that you would expect. Raw and uncontrolled which most readily translates into loud. And which seems to move the masses these days. But not me. Variety is the spice of life, no? Alice could definitely use some. The basic chops are there, but the memorableness (yes, this is a word. Peep that Oxford.) remains to be seen. Not to say it can’t happen. It just hasn’t.

Gary’s Song
[Audio clip: view full post to listen]

Gary Clark Jr. – ah, an Austin native! Insert self satisfied pat on the back for “keeping it local”. I think I first heard him on an episode of Friday Night Lights unsurprisingly. It’s nice to see that a heavy blues influenced rock band is getting a lot of buzz nowadays to help shake up a somewhat stale genre. Yes, I am making a strong assertion that rock is stale in spite of indie rock’s recent heaving period of growth as witnessed by Arcade Fire and Bon Iver stealing the Grammy buzz. As long as Foo Fighters can continue to write the same album and win listeners (and a Grammy), you haven’t changed much in the past decade (no disrespect to Dave Grohl though, I still have love…). Even if award shows are not the best indicator of all consumer interest, you will be hard pressed to convince me that this genre has sustained a fraction of progression that has been seen in hip hop or country or many other genres. Alright, soapbox safely packed away for the day. Mr. Clark was fun, solid and tight, but again nothing too unique. Nevertheless, I think there will always be a place for a bluesy guitar driven roots rock band. Just not in my daily rotation.

Don’t Owe You a Thang
[Audio clip: view full post to listen]

Central Presbytarian Church
Fiona Apple – this was the only bonafide star I chased on Thursday. With very little effort. I’ve seen Ms. Apple before so this was more of a check-in than reliving the past. And, honestly, I had to see if she could simply do it – a bit of car crash rubber necking was at play and I am not ashamed. It’s been 7 years since her last album that had a title that wasn’t (there’s a pawn and it broke and then there was 5 more sentences, right?) and her innate abilitly to craft some stellar songs is only matched by her notorious breakdowns and ficklness in live performance. So. We meet again. In a church. Intimate and stifled by expectation. Literally, a crowd of breathe pregnant by baiting. Would she make it? I think she did. Nothing mind blowing, but a solid return. If not entertaining, it was technically proficient. A peace offering of sorts – all the hits were on display with no short shrift , some less popular back catalog made its way in to satisfy the fanatics, and two new songs to tease us all for the upcoming release. The formula for a strong comeback was on display at this showcase and I’m hopeful for the end result. She proved that there is still a void in well crafted, lyrics first female songwriting which she alone fulfills. BTW – if you haven’t listened to Sleep to Dream in a while, do. I forgot how intensely satisfying it is.
Extraordinary Machine
[Audio clip: view full post to listen]

Hype Hotel
ThEESatisfaction – Well, there is just so much I could say for these girls. First act on my list of “must sees” that was crossed off. But more importantly, we connected. A lot. Like an unbelieveable amount. And by connection, I take the literal definition. I met them earlier in the day at the Fader Fort (to a bit of shock at the ease of interaction. I still get star struck easily) where they kindly shared their performance times for later in the night. Later in the night came and I caught their performance. Better than anticipated, thanks to the help of synchronized dancing (more to come on this tactic later in the festival) and a truly unique music style that they conveyed easily. I think it’s pretty hard to come up with a female duo of indie R&B/ hip hop that doesn’t rapidly move into either esoteric imagery and sound or stereotypical lyrical content (here’s to you, Floetry). They took it all in stride, one foot proudly in artistic expression, the other in tounge & cheek pop topics (kudos for making a R&B anthem for being bisexual that does NOT include any R. Kelly imagery). In short, it all seemed to work. After the performance, we caught up again, hopeful to catch some of the same acts at some point during the fest. Little did I know that I would end up seeing them everywhere. No, for real. Everywhere. At the Convention Center to catch a film, there they are. At a random showcase that was half full, there they are. It got bad enough that someone at the Fader Fort thought I was IN the group (hmmm, if only I had the time to interject another rant on being black in America. Next time….). In spite of the seemingly creepy “random” meetings, I still think these two are a force to watch this year. They worked well as hook hawkers on Shabazz Palaces’ latest and are even better on their own. They’re odd, but listenable, inviting and dare I say fun. Let’s hope the rest of the world catches on too.

Deeper
[Audio clip: view full post to listen]

Clive Bar
Kendrick Lamar – Act two on my list of “must sees”. But wait, I had already seen him last year (and liked what I saw), why the second effort? Well, now that he’s made a name for himself as well as his entire crew, this was a celebratory lap of sorts. And I think Kendrick was in it for the same reasons. Last year, he played the early sets at the broad based hip hop day showcases. This year, he closed out a night showcase dedicated to only his labelmates and had prime billing at Fader. His stature has grown mightily over the last year. And, personally, I’m claiming a bit part of acknowledging this success. Why not celebrate? Lots of stereotypical hip hop show maneuvers (queue air horn, “throw your hands in the sky”, look at all of these people with chronic medical conditions that only marijuana can help with…) but all in the spirit of fun. I’ve never seen a Cheshire grin suit a man so well. And it’s nice to know that success isn’t always a headache (Drake, you hear that???). This is the kind of repeat performance that you live to see – your musical “child” growing up right before your eyes.

HiiiPower
[Audio clip: view full post to listen]

Say what you might about her actual music, but one thing to notice about Annie is that she is good. Plain and simple, she crafts a song well. True to it’s point, meticulous in construction and lingering in it;s impact. Strange Mercy delves deeper into her darker material, stretching the dichotomy of her ethereal voice with her darker than dark (and increasingly more distorted) arrangements. What was started on Actor – the pleasant as pain – is thoroughly expressed in Strange Mercy. Better yet, each song feels much more resolute on it’s own. Actor is meant to be digested as an album; Strange Mercy can be digested similarly, but often each track stands alone. Furtheremore, there is an actual radio friendly hit – Cruel’s odd sense of displacement but upbeat rhythm makes you almost forget that you should be in pain (the video follows similar suit). Annie always seems to find a way to use quirk and off kilter melodies that just narrowly escape the bounds of art rock to something more familiar.

As a whole, this is by far her best work. It’s been terribly fun to map her progression – torch song/indie rock standard bearer, to garage rock slinger of doom and gloom at its most pleasant, to conceptual art house arranger. Strange Mercy is another leap forward into her artistic expression and leaves you just as satisfied on repeated listens. I’m more than happy to continue my demonic  ritualistic appreciation of her work, whatever I you call it.

True, it relies on tried methods for adding the eery factor (any Portishead sample pretty much guarantees you will be questioning any happy mood you ever had) but it succeeds so well in . It’s hard to find a rap song more unnerving than “Nightmare on Figg St.” – just enough familiarity to suck you in thanks to the hints of Watch the Throne’s N*ggas in Paris, while the beats absence of melody, stark synths and choppy drum loops have you looking over your shoulder at every turn. Note to other hardcore rappers – you might not have to rhyme as hard if you just let the song do half the work for you. Kendrick Lamar still seems to be the most cohesive lead voice for this crew, but SchoolBoy Q has the production chops and intensity to match on his first full length.  (Second) Note to rap – please do more of this. Pretty please.

It’s about ideas! And he has lots and lots of interesting ideas. In a surprisingly palatable debut. I distinctly remember his showcase at SXSW 2011 – hints of consciousness and elegance were there (althought overshadowed by the incessant cacauphony that is your “crew”) and he had more poise than what you would expect for seemingly coming out of the unknown. His physical stature only adds to the unassuming character. There’s pride (and a bit of devilishness) in his perpetual grin. Yet he carries it all off with wit and particularly sharp lyricism. Compton never seemed so urbane!

All of this in a live show can often lead to a let down once the recording comes through. Not to worry, those black hippies in his crew have found a way to mirror his lyrical potential with thought provoking, throwback inspired sumptuos melodies that build this new haze of hyperreality that is at once ephemeral yet tangible. That’s heady talk for an easy on the ears album. It’s great to see new hip hop artists pushing out fully realized music that still have an element of experimentation. It’s extra great that West Coast rap is at the forefront of posing new questions, new sounds, all that new-new (and no, Odd Future is neither posing new questions or nor pushing out anything worth considering as “new”. High school amateurism has always existed.). There is a lot to like in this debut and even more to wish for in the future. Let’s hope that it’s realized.

OK. Another truth with a smidge of selfloathing (but only a a tiny bit. It’s not really loathing if it’s rooted in truth, right?) – in general, I don’t trust lesbians to make music. I know. A big, bad, broad statement. And yes, you have many holes you can poke into this argument. But look, really look at your music catalog and see how many you can find that make radical, timeless, broadly appealing music. Yeah, it starts to thin out pretty quickly. Add in the constant cader of two bit acts that rely on estrogen anthems and a lilith fair of unshaven legs and you’ve got a crowded market of mediocrity. It doesn’t help that the “queer” market still supports this consistent underachieving (check out the music at a Pride festival, I dare you). All in all, I’ve been tough on the ladies because the ladies haven’t been tough enough on themselves. So it comes to utter surprise that there are a few hardworking gals out there (AND, again, the bay area is playing conduit to all this hard work) that are putting out some decent cuts. Granted, there best track, “Eleven”, takes heavily from the tUnE-yArDs playbook and most of their sound thereafter is pretty standard singer-songwriter fare (there’s that hyphen bearing word again..). Nevertheless, it’s a feat that they can bring such disparate styles together – Thao, rooted in rock and blues, scratchy voice and all; Mirah, all soft edges and introspection – with consistent quality. I think it helps that they seem to be equally comfortable taking the reigns of songwriting duty and differing to each other’s strengths. Most importantly, there is a noticeable lack in pandering lyrical content which is often the most aggravating aspect of queer musicianship. And maybe I’m giving them more credit than is due as I’m dragging their personal life to the forefront. But this album has already stood strong in my collection for over 6 months with no signs of let down.

Eccentricity. What’s not to love?! Sure, anyone can come up with a slightly off hand band name, push further into excess with an even odder presentation of the name, and then a crazy sound to boot. Take this for example. But few can pull this off with ease and grace. And subtlety. I know, not quite what one should expect from an album with “kill” in it. But there it is – choice, intention, space – saddling up to experimentation like they belong. And making a good show of it. Yes, I am spending way too much time to say that this will probably be one of my favorite records of the year. So kill me.

First, and this is a big first, I still struggle with how all of these sounds can come from 1) one person and 2) a woman. Nope, this isn’t a self loathing, sexist statement. Rather, an admission that my preconceived notions of possibility have been shattered by Merrill and her loops. That voice. What is it? Seriously, I had to watch videos of her live performances to prove that it was indeed her and not a dub of some male ’80s singer with an aggressive high range. I’ve never heard that timber from a female singer. Ever. Like never ever. It still takes me a few songs in to realize she covers all of the singing. It’s so…oddly familiar. And yet still disarming. Nevertheless, I like it. A lot. She uses her vocals to affect emotion and power better than most. Then the production takes over. In the same vein of Menomena, she takes her work personally. No need to collaborate when you already have a strong ear. Lots of attention placed on the arrangements – full, lively, and purposeful. Everything in balance without seeming over-thought. The added idiosyncratic touches (an extra blip here, cutting out the instruments to let her vocals wail for a bit, etc.) solidify the bedroom studio feel and endear you ever more. It all sounds so wild – uninhibited, driving, surprising. And replays well. Don’t look now, but I may actually be becoming a fan of Bay Area music. And maybe you will be too…

Love: Still Fighting
My newest (soon to be reviewed) music crushes, Thao & Mirah, do a rather convincing cover of Pat Benetar’s Love is a Battlefield right here in the Bay Area.  Peep the video. And listen to the rest of their recording session on The Bay Bridged.

Andre 3000 comes out of hiding for…Ke$ha????
‘fraid so.  Unbelievable. But true. And sadly, as much as I want to fuel the flames of Ke$ha’s general awfulness, Andre adds an instant level of validity to this track. What was once mind-numbing forgettable pop is now a succinct commentary on life’s realities as we age. And a kiss off to bougie friends.  Or whatever.  We R who we R after all.

Minaj really is best a trois
I already secretly liked “Till the World Ends”. It’s shameless, has a predictable build, and, by now, is a throwback to my youth.  Add in Nikki Minaj and it only gets better. It’s her year and once again she delivers, slowing down the tempo to add further insult to her already killer flow. Ke$ha mops up the sloppy seconds to round out this name dropping extravaganza.

Rooftop parties with Spike Jonze directing a collaboration between YoYo Ma and hip hop dancers? Please, God let this be true?! And it is.

Lil Buck looks down right ethereal. Matched with the cello, it’s hard not to watch again and again. So enjoy, multiple times. And please do invite me to the next one of these fundraising events. I will gladly eat your cheese tray.

The most striking feature of Wounded Rhymes is that it sounds complete from the first listen. It’s well produced, rich, and inviting. But has enough complexity and looseness to not lose it’s freshness on repeat. The album easily hearkens to the ’60s/’70s without taking on the task of becoming an homage. Fuzz, organs, harmonies, and reverb are all in ample proportion throughout. Lykke Li’s usually wistful delivery lands on the  meatier end of the spectrum, full of experience, pallor, and bite.  It’s a dangerous turn to take – leaving the levity of youth for age always feels like you can hang yourself on unnecessary weight. Here, Li avoids these traps by wrapping it all in driving rhythms and lyrical integrity. Nothing sounds too efforted or effortless. Everything in it’s right place really. And at 10 songs, she keeps you wanting more at the end. It’s a very ambitious line to take and I’m glad she took it. And I hope this sense of adventure continues well into the future.

Shut up, Dude starts with obvious hits “Who’s That? Brown!”, “You Oughta Know”  and “Pizza Hut”, and sets up a lengthy but skillful mixtape of old school nods and pop culture non sequitors. They meander from song to song with no point in sight. I applaud the “rhyme for rhyme sake” ethos, but it loses steam after  about 8 songs and becomes fairly repetitive (or at least bland). Nothing horrible, but the exceptional peaked early. Even if the songs are free, a well edited release still makes for a better listen than a grab bag of everything you’ve ever rhymed slung together. Sit Down, Man shows marked improvement for thematic structure and even some improvement in the production. Less hook laden than the former, but much more satisfying. Which gives me hope that the joke is not on me for actually liking these guys. They are a train wreck in every show – purposefully – bouncing between being enamored with tricking the world into believing that they are real MCs and being bored by rehashing each song on a nightly basis. And for that, shame on me for even trying to support this mess: if they don’t want to take themselves somewhat seriously, why should I? But it IS refreshing to get references to Maya Angelou’s bubble butt (again, try not to giggle) and hearing a reinterpretation of the Days of Our Lives theme.

If you can handle the obsession with pop culture, literati references and an absolute lack of editing, give these guys a shot. I am. And probably will until the next ivy league educated rap group comes around.