Living on the Ceiling

After the A.U. show we wandered to the stage out back, where the bands that had already made a name for themselves played. We knew We Were Promised Jetpacks were going to be playing, and we hoped their roughly melodic, noisy brand of rock would salve our wounds of disappointment—and all other wounds we happened to have. We were right.

WWPJ were the first band I’ve ever seen that I recognized right as they walked on stage. I knew the lead singer’s Scottish babyface from the Quiet Little Voices music video I had watched again and again (and again). The rush was ridiculously incredible. We had stood for at least 45 minutes, bored and sober kids in a crowd of tipsy adults, all of whom seemed far more capable of having fun anywhere than we were. So when the band finally showed up, fish-belly pale next to the tattooed and tanned sound crew, I stood, riveted, for the next half hour as the fiddled with their instruments and milled around stage, drinking water from cartons.

The minute they began actually playing music, the difference between the tiny stage inside and that outside was immediately obvious. And, with each song, I grew to love a band I once new only one song from.

The band was, at the time, on a tour to promote their newest album, In The Pit of the Stomach, which meant they never played Quiet Little Voices, the song we were hoping to scream along to. But their sound and their energy blew most of our worries away, even if just for a bit. The show went from the guitar screams and pounding beats of Medicine to the quiet, lovelorn wailing of Pear Tree, and each song was accompanied by the appropriate wave of emotion. When I went back to the hotel that night, all I wanted to listen to was more of their songs. Since then I’ve realized how listenable, how therapeutic, how downrightgoodtheir dark, brooding, melodic but slightly repetative music can be.

For fans of Frightened Rabbit and Arcade Fire. I recommend Circles and Squares, It’s Thunder and It’s Lightning, and Roll Up Your Sleeves, my current favorite. Give their full albums a listen. Then give ‘em another—they might just grow on you.

We arrived at SXSW tired, disappointed that we would have to be Annointed Ones to even get into the Alabama Shakes show, and incredibly hungry. But we decided music was far more important than food, so we stumbled down Red River, past the street vendors and the already omnipresent red cups. We found our way to Red 7, the only joint within a short walk we knew of that had good music and let minors in. And so we found ourselves, armed with Xes on our hands, in the dark and grimy bar where we saw our first SXSW show.
It took me a while to figure what this band was called, because I’d never heard of them before and because the schedule by the stage was completely off. They played on a tiny stage crammed into the corner of the bar, which meant the show was incredibly loud—especially for our virtually concert-virgin ears. AU, a Portland based trio, consists of a keyboardist/programmer/singer/songwriter with an affinity for short shorts, a drummer that looks like Billy Mays, and a singer/clarinetist (yes.) pictured above. The group mixes a number of interesting ideas: doubled cymbals on the drummer’s set for extra crash, looping clarinet riffs (do you know what to call them) and light-speed piano playing reminiscent of the frontman’s favorite composer (Ravel). Unfortunately, either by the misfortune of the sound system or the mixing of such odd elements, their music comes out with more noise than melody. Their performance did have some memorable moments, from the clarinetist’s duck dance to the drummer’s switching snares mid-song. For fans of Philip Glass and Animal Collective, check out their recorded stuff.

(Source: bra1ns)

(Source: lieue)

TO THE BASEMENT PEOPLE.