March 19--"Nobody told me there was gonna be so many people here," Courtney Barnett said as she surveyed the vast crowd Wednesday that had gathered at the outdoor venue Stubb's.
Barnett's performance was among the most anticipated of the South by Southwest Music Conference, and she and her power trio had no problem meeting the challenge. Already seasoned by years on the Australian bar scene and North American festival appearances last summer, Barnett wasn't intimidated at all by the setting. She proved it by ignoring the songs that initially got her noticed internationally -- "Avant Gardener" and "History Eraser" -- and instead played most of her forthcoming album, "Sometimes I Sit and Think, and Sometimes I Just Sit."
The singer wedged a torrent of words into tight spaces over a foundation of corrosive guitar -- a rhythm-lead style that echoed the way Kurt Cobain would underscore lyrics with a steady barrage of fills, riffs and noise. Barnett stepped out for a few solos, but they weren't flashy so much as brief respites from the gush of verbiage, guided more by conversational flow rather than iambic pentameter. Self-deprecating and deadpan, Barnett's songs fill unremarkable moments -- a trip to the supermarket, a day at the beach -- with surprise and humor.
"Put me on a pedestal and I'm bound to disppoint you," she sang to a would-be lover. "Give me all your money and I'll make some origami, honey."
Also putting a fresh spin on well-worn styles was 19-year-old Las Vegas native Shamir Bailey. He previewed his debut album, "Ratchet," with a shimmying performance and an androgynous voice that evoked the '80s Prince. But Shamir's pushy brand of R, with its emphatic percussion and wiggly synth lines, included plenty of influence from club and dance culture. When he stretched his songs out, they took on the flavor of an extended DJ mix with their long, trancy grooves, perfect for extended workouts on the dusty outdoor dance floor.
Whereas Barnett and Shamir both affirmed that their building acclaim has merit, much-hyped German duo Milky Chance got off to a rougher start. Attracting a large, enthusiastic audience for a daytime performance at the Austin Convention Center, Clemens Rehbein and Philipp Dausch (abetted by a third musician) dived into their bag of ragged electro-folk songs. Their street-busker aesthetic suggested collages of ideas borrowed from many genres -- raspy folk-singer vocals, bluesy harmonica, scratchy hip-hop beats -- but without the songs to give them shape.
The measured melodies of Los Angeles duo Girlpool, built entirely on the guitar-bass chug and harmonies of Cleo Tucker and Harmony Tividad, boasted undeniable charm. But their uniform tempos and clean, sparse interplay never quite lifted off. Similarly, the twin guitars of Seattle's Chastity Belt intertwined in the space left by a subtle rhythm section, but the vocal mix left many of the songs flat.
The Mystery Lights scored points for a fast set-up -- they started their set at the cramped 720 club 10 minutes early -- and played with a fury and focus that suggested these five guys had spent too many days cooped up in a van together. That's the reality of most of the 2,000 bands that perform at the conference. Many come long distances to play for 40 minutes, in hope that they'll win a few new fans and get another rung up the industry ladder. The New York-via-California quintet played to an audience of a few dozen, but the lunging power of its acid-tipped garage-rock songs presented a band that didn't see any red lights ahead. The songs hurtled, reverb-drenched vocals howling atop 12-string guitar and mini-organ drone while drums and bass charged past the speed limit. Afterward, on the street outside, the band members chatted enthusiastically with anyone who wanted a minute of their time. And then it was on to the next gig.
greg@grekot.com
