Tuesday marked the first official day of the music portion of South by Southwest. The shows don’t start until the evening, but when they do get going, they don’t stop for quite some time. Before the music started, we had to pick up our wristbands in order to attend shows. While we were waiting, we ran into Cults, Yellow Ostrich and Brother Ali. We were starstruck, to say the least.
We began our night at the Pitchfork showcase at Mohawk Bar. Lucky for us, the venue had a great lineup for the evening, and we planted ourselves there for the majority of the night. Teengirl Fantasy kicked off the night with a cacophony of synthesizer and flashing neon lights. Their ambient electro-pop was a great way to ease into the various genres to come.
Star Slinger hit the stage next, and was the epitome of juxtaposition. The chubby, redheaded emo kid behind the DJ booth ended up getting the whole crowd moving—if you’re ever hosting a dance party, this guy is the stuff to bump. Next up was Mr. Muthafuckin’ eXquire, complete with a massive posse. There may or may not have been more people on stage than in the crowd. He has good stage presence, but also questionable lyrics and a penchant for spraying the not-hot-enough crowd with bottled water.
Bear in Heaven came on next, and the lead singer appeared to be seducing himself onstage as he alternated between crooning indiscernible lyrics and reverberating keyboard. Nevertheless, the show was resplendent with hazy electronic music of its own (sinful) nature, and was one of our favorites for the night.
ScHoolboy Q rocked the stage in a bucket cap reminiscent of “Gilligan’s Island,” but he had the swagger of Skipper. The riotous performance culminated with ScHoolboy Q launching himself into the crowd to mosh with fans.
After departing from Mohawk, we briefly parted ways and stumbled upon shows we should have anticipated in the first place. Riley ended up catching the end of Poliça’s set at the Bat Bar, while unbeknownst to her, Jaime saw hip-hop veterans Mobb Deep and later ended up at a bar called Shangri-La, where she played “Mortal Kombat II.” It was a magnificent evening, to say the least.
Be sure to keep reading The Daily Cardinal all week for more updates, and follow @DCArtsDesk for pictures of live performances and exclusive UW-Madison coverage of SXSW.
—Riley Beggin and Jaime Brackeen
To say SXSW is a sort of renaissance faire for Internet culture would be quite an understatement—it was the birthplace of Twitter and Foursquare, after all. And today I witnessed just how powerful a tool the Internet can be when harnessed to support true artistic vision.
Two films I saw today, “Eletrick Children” and “Blue Like Jazz,” both received major chunks of their funding from donations through campaigns on the website KickStarter.com. The site allows anyone to post an idea for anything and solicit donations from the general public in exchange for a stake in the final product—anything from your name in the credits, to points on the back end.
“Blue Like Jazz” was an interesting narrative adaptation of the New York Times best-selling memoir/essay collection of the same name discussing post-modern Christianity. Morphed into a college coming-of-age story, the film is poignant and explores issues of spiritual Christianity conflicting with its own modern institutions when a young Texan, fed-up with his Southern Baptist mother’s decidedly un-Christian behavior, enrolls in Reed College in Portland—the so-called ‘most godless campus in America.’
If you check it out in theaters after its public release next month, be sure to keep a sharp eye on the details. The film has some of the funniest sight gags hidden in the set design and props that I’ve seen in a long time.
“Eletrick Children” is the first feature film from director Rebecca Thomas, who is still an MFA candidate at Columbia University. The initial funding for the film also came from a KickStarter campaign Thomas set up herself, then it grew from there when larger funders caught notice.
The story is a reimagining of the virgin birth for the modern age. A 15-year-old girl living a secluded, anti-modern life in a Mormon fundamentalist compound in Utah, listens to a forbidden cassette tape containing rock n’ roll music and becomes pregnant. She is convinced it was an immaculate conception and sets out to find the man she heard singing on the tape, believing he is the father of her child. The film was surprisingly well crafted for a first-time feature director, with only one or two narrative stumbles.
—David Cottrell
