SXSW 2009: Day Four

AUSTIN, Texas -- A few weeks ago, my teenage son was in the throes of apocalyptic heartbreak. His girlfriend had broken up with him, and they were having frequent and painful electronic exchanges about it. After a particularly difficult instant-message conversation, he sat in our darkened living room with an anguished look on his face. I was sitting with him, doing what I do -- trying to make him feel better with, you know, words -- and failing miserably.

So I finally asked: "Want to hear a song that's about exactly how you feel right now?" Sure, he said, and I pulled out Big Star's "Thirteen." For my green, "Thirteen" is the best expression of teenage heartbreak there is. And yet I was hesitant about trotting it out because "Thirteen" is a quiet acoustic ballad and my son's tastes trend toward nasty, aggressive metal. Still...it just melted him (and me, too). He must've played it a dozen times that night, and he sent it to a bunch of friends. The girl, too. Didn't solve anything, of course, and they're still broken up. But it made both of us feel better. One takes redemption where one finds it.

So why am I telling you this now? Because Jody Stephens, Big Star's drummer, was in Austin for South By Southwest this week, I was able to share this story with him -- and he was visibly moved. I could tell it made his day, and it kind of made mine, too. And it's exactly this sort of connection, with music and the people who make it and love it, that keeps me coming back down here after 22 years.

For all the snide complaints you hear about SXSW, there's still no better place to get back in touch with one's inner fan of music and passion and life -- for me, anyway. It's a big, sprawling, confusing mess of bands and panel discussions and people on the move and on the make, a bewildering mob scene that's impossible to make sense of. Yet it's still the most fun I have year after year, whether stumbling across something new, flying the hometown flag or reconnecting with old favorites.

It is, of course, beyond exhausting. So I cope by adopting the rhythms of a shark -- I must keep moving -- and Saturday's final day began early. Well before noon, I was at Austin's venerable Continental Club for Mojo Nixon's annual pancake breakfast roots-rock extravaganza. Listening to The Twang play strangely Germanic honky-tonk versions of songs by Amy Winehouse, Beastie Boys, Motorhead and even the Village People over coffee and pancakes was a perfect way to start the day (although I passed on the pancakes with jalapenos).

Over the course of the afternoon and evening, I saw resurgent British rock band Blue Aeroplanes (definitely had their moments) and Oklahoma folksinger/songwriter Samantha Crain (solid, although I was such a zombie by then that I was having trouble focusing). But the day belonged to Jon Langford's Pine Valley Cosmonauts. Langford's crazed punked-out country-rock can be a bit schticky, and there was lots of between-song chit-chat about Aboriginal country-western music and obscure one-hit wonders. But Langford can also bear down and rock hard enough to blow you away, which he and his band did at the end of the set. A spectacular moment in a week full of them.

So it's been a grand time, as usual. Thanks for coming along. I'll see you back in the 9-1-9 soon.

ADDENDUM (1/29/10): Props from the other DM.