Mojo - The Music Magazine

WHAT A STRANGE FESTIVAL South By Southwest is. On one level it's a music industry love-in: a mass of panel talks and hospitality meet and greets in which everyone is nice to everyone and promptly forgets their name seconds after shaking their hands unless some sort of business is on the horizon. On another it's an ultra-credible underground music stage on which all kinds of small bands get to play to a generally appreciative audience. And on another it's a shockingly debauched booze-up for the youth of America.

In the name of coalface reportage, MOJO encountered all of the above on Thursday, 18 March. The morning began with your correspondent hosting a panel talk on the past, present and future of English folk music with the wonderfully elegant American singing legend Judy Collins alongside a host of young English folk-rock names: The Unthanks, Jim Moray and Trembling Bells. Nobody can ever agree on what folk music is, and so arguments always ensue when the subject is raised, but civility was upheld by the presence of Judy Collins, whose erudite wisdom brought out the decency in all.

Then it was time to hit the gig scene: hundreds of bands playing in myriad bars, all fighting for a good audience. Wales featured high on the agenda with a showcase at the Latitude Bar: an elfin singer named Sweet Baboo warned of the dangers of choosing a dissolute path in life with a great couplet: "My mama said turn your little self around / There'll be no-one to help you on your way down." A short walk along the street led to a set by cosmic Californians Sleepy Sun, who managed to lure legendary record mogul Seymour Stein into their psychedelic country rock haze. Unfortunately, he fell asleep -- on top of their merchandise stand.

Returning to the Welsh contingent, Cate Le Bon (pictured), Pembrokeshire's very own Nico, brought an exquisite doom to SXSW under the afternoon Texas sun. Le Bon's set was an example of the deep eccentricity the British Isles can harbour: lyrics that are surreal yet familiar, and a way of singing that may not be conventionally mellifluous but is absolutely compelling. Then it was off round the corner to see The Black Angels: a pounding Farfisa organ, rumbling distortion, and a brilliantly metronomic female drummer with the best feather cut in Austin. There was absolutely no way of knowing what the hell the singer was going on about, but you got the sense that he *really meant whatever it was you couldn't understand.

Longstanding MOJO favourite Pete Molinari played a brilliant, energized and very popular set reminiscent of Judas-era Bob Dylan. Kid Congo Powers, formerly of The Cramps and The Gun Club, played a cartoonish half-hour of B-movie rock'n'roll. And a Bella Union/4AD showcase underlined the increasing musical strengths of both labels with an evening concert featuring Mountain Man (three harmonizing hippy girls from Vermont, all still in school), Efterklang (experimental Danes), and, capping off the evening, the now-significant proposition that is Midlake. It might be blasphemous to say this in these parts, but their set was flat, with the flute solos and tasteful guitar lines not quite exceeding the sum of their parts. Carpe diem, chaps.

At around 2am, MOJO entered into the frenzied maelstrom of Sixth Street, and suddenly felt rather old. Everyone was very young and very loud. It's the last day of college, apparently. Time for bed.

Will Hodgkinson

Photo courtesy of Piper Ferguson