Saturday night at SXSW is supposed to be big. It’s your last chance to see a lot of bands that play their fourth and final shows at an afternoon showcase, be they new discoveries or old favorites. Looking at yesterday’s schedule, I realize that I could have plotted my show-going out hour by hour, starting at noon and ending at 2 am. It could have been a totally epic end to my first SXSW.

So what did I do?

I spent hours wandering around Don Quixote style, drinking and of course eating tons of meat (sorry, vegetarian friends: it’s Texas!). This, then, will be the most autobiographical post of them all. Here goes:

I saw Portland’s own Laura Gibson twice. Twice! (I’m writing about her for WW, hence the multiple viewings.) The first show was at 3:00 pm in a out-of-the-way back yard.

My photo-shooting compatriot, Amy Sly, decided that we might as well walk from downtown to Gibson’s showcase on 12th and Salina. Could have taken a pedi-cab (the bicycle cabs that do a lot of SXSW’s heavy lifting). Could have taken a cab-cab. But Amy thought it would be “nice” to walk. We had ice cream (courtesy of my old friend from MFNW, The Ice Cream Man).

Saturday was the hottest day of our Austin visit. Didn’t check the actual temperature, but I’d say low-mid 90s. That wears on a dude from Oregon. And the walk wound up being a lot longer than we thought it would be. We got to 11th and Salina after a pretty decent hike and we were like “sweet, one more block.” But it was like ten more blocks. None of the phantom in-between blocks had numbers, it was crazy! Look for yourself (thanks, Google Maps):

One block from the backyard show, there was a hip-hop show. The rapping was o.k., but this mural was pretty much the greatest thing ever:

Two doors down from the rap show, a white picket fence led to the Blog Fresh Radio showcase. We could smell BBQ. And there was Laura in her lovely dress and boots. “This trip was so easy to pack for, I just threw a couple dresses in the suitcase,” she had told me earlier.

When she took the stage, Gibson asked if anyone had a sombrero she could borrow. No one did, but a nice gent brought her a pair of big black sunglasses instead. The shades kept sliding down her nose, so she gave them back. Then a red-faced middle aged dude in cut-off shorts and a too-snug tee came over with a rainbow-colored umbrella. He stood behind Laura on stage for an entire song with the umbrella (which was really awkward) until she told him not to worry about it. Then one of the show’s organizers tried to duct tape the umbrella to a mic stand. It immediately blew over. The whole fiasco was a slight distraction from Gibson’s set, along with the beats from the rap show and mechanical noises from the garage next door to the outdoor stage.

After Gibson’s set, we watched the fantastic Luke Temple (former Seattlite now living in New York City, from what I understand), who played carnivalesque pop with the help of a multi-instrumentalist sideman. It was dope: Think of the “Rain Down, Rain Down” section of Radiohead’s “Paranoid Android,” stretch it out and add some twang. It was kinda like that. Check “People Do” on his ’space. That’s some Paul Simon shit right there.

After Temple’s set we discussed means of transportation for getting back into the downtown madness. Laura said she’d split a cab with us, and then the red-faced man with the curious mustache offered his services. Laura and I looked at each other confused, like “neither of us know this dude, do we?” and then reluctantly accepted. He’s behind me here:

The man, who turned out to be very nice, had an open container in his car, and had to take two small detours to avoid cops. Still, we got downtown safe and sound. He seemed a bit disappointed when the girls didn’t offer hugs, but we bid a friendly farewell anyway and then Amy and I said goodbye to Laura. We were on a mission.

4:40 pm
The plan was to hang out with Elijah Wood. DJ Elijah Wood, actually. He was DJing the Bust magazine party (he’s one of Bust’s “Men We Love.” Ha ha ha). So, ostensibly anyway, we wanted to see him because a friend of mine has a big crush on him and I wanted to get him on her answering machine saying something like “Shauna, this is Elijah Wood. You need to get over me, it’s never going to happen. I’m sorry.” Sorry, I have a cruel side. Who’s to say though, if she was at SXSW maybe they’d be together right now, doing the nasty and listening to Neutral Milk Hotel. He could show her his big hairy Frodo feet. But I digress. We didn’t see DJ Elijah Wood, though we did see two guys who looked like they could be his less-attractive and similarly bug-eyed brothers.

6:00 pm
Missed the Fleet Foxes (and the entire Seattle Showcase, in fact). That was kind of a bummer. Time zones, confusion, etc. But we met up with Mark B and Byrne instead, at a Mexican joint called Jaimes (was it pronounced “Hymies” or “Jaymees”? We dunno). The boys had downed a pitcher of Margarita and were on their way to ordering a second one. Laura and Dave Depper stopped by, as well. Dave had a nuts story that he can share in the comments if he wants to tell it. But we mostly talked about music, as music writers and musicians are want to do.

After stumbling out we saw Ohmega Watts and Braille on the street outside and I promised to come see their show, which I was planning to do anyway before things got derailed. The day’s beers started to take their toll and I think Mark talked to Ohmega about reissued soul albums while I talked to Braille about his upcoming record. Then Amy got a really good portrait of Watts:

7:30-10:00 pm
Blogging, sweating, feeling gross at the Hilton. I pointed Byrne in the direction of the hidden sixth floor bathroom.

10:00 pm
Caught most of the Watts/Braille set. It was nice to see a crowd get worked. I mean, this crowd seemed generally fond of saying “alright!” and putting peace signs up in the air, as opposed to some cynical Portland crowds I’ve seen. Not all the time, Portland, but sometimes, you are kinda lame at hip-hop shows. Maybe that’s why Watts repped Brooklyn on his SXSW questionnaire.

Braille and Watts were sweating a lot, but they also looked like they were having a lot of fun, taking turns with the handy-cam and laughing. Good stuff.

11:00 pm
Off to see Laura again. I’m actually really glad I saw the set twice: Once in a noisy but very concentrated backyard and once in a club on the busiest street of SXSW. Drums and guitars were pouring in from every direction, but the close-to-the-stage crowd was really responsive, singing along in parts and even yelling at the sound guy when the mix was too quiet (the sound guy shrugged and said “that’s as loud as it goes!”).

Afterwards, I guess I was in one of those drinking moods—I swear my life doesn’t usually revolve around alcohol, but if you’ve ever been to Texas I probably don’t need to explain—so I suggested we head to a bar where we could get a booth and drink much more alcohol. We settled on the Driskill Hotel, maybe the fanciest bar I’ve ever hung out in (except this place had a bunch of big screen TVs blasting paparazzi television. It hurt the atmosphere quite a bit.). We got three rounds, if I remember correctly (and I might not). Then the lights came on suddenly and they slowly forced us out.

Stock image of the Driskill

So that’s how my SXSW weekend ended.

I mean, not exactly: There were long walks around the city at night trying to find some rave with Michael Byrne and a drunk dude that tried to get in a cab with Laura. There was Amy, stranded at the motel until her flight left (a phone died, apparently), there was Mark disappearing completely (this time a phone was just lost). Everyone I talked to had some crazy story about the last night of the festival. But some of those are stories best saved for in-person exchanges. Some of those stories will get wilder and more exaggerated as I get older. And some of these stories aren’t worth telling, really, but I’ll still remember them until I can’t remember anything anymore.

Today (Sunday) was spent laying around the hotel room, watching basketball scores over the internet and checking in on email. Boring stuff. We took a great walk through mall parking lots, under twisting overpasses and past closed family restaurants. It made me miss the sloppy tree-lined streets of my neighborhood back in Portland. Which never really felt like home until I took this trip, actually. Funny how that works.

The End?

Well, no. There’s the matter of that Builders and the Butchers show I didn’t properly explain yesterday. Where we left off, they had thrown a bunch of percussion instruments into the crowd so the fans could be a part of the show. Well they also threw some drumsticks, one of which nailed a girl in the head. Caught on tape! Sort of. Here’s the last song (warning: audio is bad):

And here’s my exclusive interview with “Ellie” (I have reason to believe that’s not her real name), the girl who got hit:

Download audio file (drumstick.mp3)

Yay!

The End

Bonus Photos of me and Laura, just me, Laura (again), and Bella (Vancouver), :

Bonus Round Table (err, street) discussion with some KPSU personnel:

Download audio file (roundtable.mp3)

The End: For real.

Good photos by Amy Sly. The rest by me.