First, I feel the need to address the criticisms of SXSW. Cynicism was fashionable this year as ubiquitous claims rang through the cool spring air that the festival was nothing more than Mardi Gras for the music industry, a kind of spring break for record company employees and music press. A&R people from every record company, major and minor, had shots leveled at them: complaints that they weren't going to sign any bands (as most bands were already signed) and they were only here to get drunk. Members of the music press corps received similar treatment, chided for being here in greater numbers than the bands they were supposed to cover, and for being fat, lazy alcoholics who spend more time bragging about the size of their record collections (which they build for free) than reporting on the music industry. All such complaints may be well founded and reasonable, but as far as I can tell, that's just the state of the art and there's no better place to watch it roil than at SXSW.

Of course there was obnoxiousness. It starts simply with the people who find it necessary to wear their conference badges all the time, day and night, even when dining in restaurants away from the venues and the convention center. I saw the lobby of the Four Seasons hotel at two thirty in the morning, packed with chattering, self-important twenty-somethings rubbing their wings together in a noxious din of babble. The schmoozing is insufferable in itself, collecting like ribbons of cheez-whiz over the floors of bars: be careful or you'll get it on your shoes. And there was so much smoke. Part of that was because every day at the trade show, Winston had a booth giving away free cigarettes. Winston had a cigarette girl walking around at a party sponsored by Interview magazine. Winstons, Winstons everywhere. Insidious.

So enough with the down side, the up side is simple and large: The music. Each time I was annoyed at the circus surrounding the event, all I had to do was look up to the stage in front of me to be revitalized by the music being created there. Here's a rundown of the highlights:

Wednesday night: After Austin's Spoon played a taut set at Liberty Lunch, I hung around for the Liquor Giants from L.A. Their Beatle/Stones influence was readily apparent, but lyrical, buzzing hooks made for good pop. I'd heard a lot about Tommy Keene, but the old popster's set bored me to tears so I went home.

Thursday night: I spent the whole evening at the Electric Lounge for New York's Flydaddy Records Showcase. It began with Boston's Syrup USA, a pop band whose lyrical guitar and synthesizer grooves recall a slightly simplified Stereolab. But save for the bouncing of the bass player, it was a low energy performance that managed to produce high energy music and I got into it. Next was Chicago's Number One Cup followed by Olivia Tremor Control, an experimental Zappa-like pop band that creates listenable, even catchy music.

On Friday night I was excited to see the Handsome Family, a duet based out of Chicago, starring Odessa-raised singer/guitarist Brett Sparks. Their last CD, Through the Trees has been frequenting my stereo for the past month, but the band presented a rather uneventful live show that was too accurate a reproduction of the album. I was happy to catch the last half hour of Sally Timms, the lead singer of the old British group, The Mekons. She put on a mellow, smiling pop show and it felt like a privilege to be in the presence of her low, lithe voice.

There were other bands and other shows, but by Saturday night the cumulative exhaustion was overpowering and I had to put myself to bed early. By Sunday I was ready to have it all go away. The music is exhilarating if you focus on that and suppress your annoyance at the overindulgence of the whole affair. Yes, at the week's end I was ready for it all to go away, but I'm already looking forward to next year.

(4/1/98)

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