Well, we skipped that laughable multi-block line to get into Stubb’s for Fiona Apple’s opening SXSW set last night, and for that I’m grateful—one of the biggest hang-ups with a festival like SX is sacrificing one show for another (or for even just shuffling your feet along Red River waiting for an hour to see if entry’s even a remote possibility), so knowing when to cut and run or stick it out is a skill in itself. Thankfully, Stubb’s—home of world-renowned barbecue and a backyard hosting a stage that’s not unlike a smaller BoA Pavilion—is next to a handful of venerable rock clubs, so coming up with an Apple-spawned Plan B wasn’t exactly difficult. Or, as it turns out, a Plan B at all.
NOT FIONA APPLE
After a quick power nap and a schedule check, Jess and I set out from the hotel well over an hour before Fiona Apple was to be taking the stage at Stubb’s thinking that we’d have to wait a sec in line but would make it in time for Jess to shoot the first three songs. HAHA. HAHAHA. James Reed of the Globe, buddy and esteemed colleague, stuck it out and made it in after an hour. If a line for a show involves two hills and spans multiple blocks over an intersection, the set’s not worth it unless one of two things happens: she either brings up a random assortment of special guests (Stevie Nicks, Lady Smith Black Mombazo, Courtney Fucking Love I Don’t Care) that make the interwebz explode or you get snacks. Aloud opted for the latter, grabbed a table at Stubb’s for dinner and caught the Fiona Apple from the other side of the wall as they stuffed face with melt-off-the-bone-BBQ. Note to self: if you ever want to see a set at Stubb’s and the line’s stupid, get hungry fast.
MIRACLES OF MODERN SCIENCE
The Jr. is the new Emo’s (and conveniently two blocks from Stubb’s) and I can’t get their cover of that damn Foster the People song out of my head, so we moseyed over for the Consequence of Sound party in time for the Miracles of Modern Science opening set. Last time I caught the Brooklyn five-piece rockestra they were on the rooftop of the Delancey at CMJ a few years ago, and I fell hook line and sinker for the guys who manipulate classical sounds for poppy tunes in a natural, non-plussed way. It’s great to see that they haven’t changed in that respect, though I will say I favored their own “MOMS Away!” over the lackluster “Life On Mars?” cover that happened. Ah well.
(photos: Jess Hodge)
HEY MARSEILLES
I’ve never seen these guys, though everyone raves about them each time they come through Boston and they were on minutes after MOMS, so staying put made sense. Frontman Matt Bishop (whom I will refer to from this point forward as Colin Meloy Jr.) and the rest of the folk-infused Seattlites played a set a gypsy caravan with a penchant for Dylan would’ve been into and they get extra points for fitting a ton of dudes onto the stage the size of a postage stamp.
(photos: Jess Hodge)
THE SWORD
At this point, I notice that Jeff’s disappeared and assumed that he had found Taj and the rest of the Grey Sky Appeal guys on the roof of Maggie Mae’s or something. Lo and behold, he’d gone exploring in hopes of finding the bathroom at The Jr. and stumbled upon the stage in the backyard. We down our beers and head outside to find The Sword mid-“RAAHHHHHHHH ROCK AND ROLLLLLLL!!!!!” call-to-action.
SHARON VAN ETTEN
Sharon’s one of those indie unicorns I’ve been trying to come across in the wild recently—she played Boston a few weeks ago, her debut’s been sitting on my desk for months and she’s one of the most enticing additions to the Newport Folk lineup this summer. The way everyone’s been going on about her you’d think that Warby Parker-wearing woodland creatures get her dressed in the morning (read: she’s a hipster’s iTunes dreamboat) and I was not immune, as I practically swooned over the girl the second she cuddled her autoharp on the stage at Stubb’s. Just give “Peace Signs” a spin and tell me you don’t fall in love a little bit. I dare you.
(photos: Mike Basu)
DAN DEACON
NPR (who hosted the lineup at Stubb’s last night) gets a high-five from us for putting Dan Deacon on the same stage as Fiona Apple and SVE, because WTF with the electro-tribal shenanigans?! We went from subdued crooning to glow skulls, Blues Brothers references, xylophones and a dance contest that opened up the center of the yard into one giant circle of good vibes, dudes in flannel doing the worm and a particularly aggressive participant who picked a girl up and ran her around whilst she clutched her beer for dear life.
(photos: Mike Basu)
ALABAMA SHAKES
I meant what I tweeted: I would not be surprised if some immaculate conception action took place last night in my ladyparts during the “Hold On” chorus, because dear LORD Brittany Howard’s voice has special powers. Another band I’m looking forward to gushing over at Newport Folk, Alabama Shakes (in my mind, anyway) is the sonic and spiritual love child of Tina Turner and CCR. I wouldn’t be surprised if Howard has “Proud Mary” tattooed on her soul, that’s how much sass and skill these guys delivered over the course of an hour.
ANAÏS MITCHELL
(photos: Jess Hodge)
Jess ran over to see her girl crush for a hot minute while I was too busy fanning myself over Alabama Shakes, so these are her photos and this is what she has to say: “After the show I went up to buy her CD and I wanted to get a photo with her, and I was so, like, ‘UH AHGH SA;DFA.’ She was all, ‘Oh, hi!’ so I just pointed to a CD and was like, ‘I would like that one.’ I didn’t know what to do.” D’aw.
ANDREW BIRD
For the last show of the night we had a couple of options before us—the Wandas were at the Hype Machine house and wanted to meet up, a bunch of Boston folks were across town watching the Mellow Bravo set and Astronautalis was hitting the roof at the 512 just after Andrew’s first few songs. I wanted to see Cults, who I had seen open for Foster the People (I think? I can’t remember) at the House of Blues and I’ve been dying to see more of them since. Jess took one look at the absolute madhouse surrounding Red 7 on her way back to Mikey and I and declared it a no go, so staying put at Stubb’s was a fine compromise as it brought us to Andrew Bird. The strings of Miracles of Modern Science and Andrew’s ethereal, softly strange repertoire (complete with headscratchingly bizarre set pieces, including paper double-helixes and that enormous two-headed gramophone) made for satisfying bookends to our first night at SXSW 2012.
(photos: Jess Hodge)
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