SXSW 2012: Day Four | Festival Review

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The Heavy's vocalist Kelvin Swaby wags his finger at the camera as the British soul band (with extra soul) plays The Stage on Sixth on March 17 at South by Southwest.

by Michael Todd

I knew it was a bad idea to be a ginger. The terrible triumvirate of Saturday night, South by Southwest and St. Patrick’s Day brewed up a perfect storm of potential discrimination. And as I inched my way out of Cheers on Sixth Street, one brazen bro proved my premonition.

“Give me a shamrock,” he shouts from a mere foot away, stuck in traffic in the opposite lane. “No, that's all right,” I say before turning to look at him. He’s lifting up his green shirt to reveal a hairy left breast, apparently implying the shamrock I give be a four-pronged hickey. “Come on, man!” he stresses.

I turn away and construct a wall of ignorance, but the place is clogged with lime-clothed clones. So his cherry face and oddly earnest look remain an arm’s length away, no doubt pleading for his proverbial pot of gold. This is hell, I think. I’m not even Irish.


As I made my way down south to the Lustre Pearl, finally free but in for a boring trio of songs by Dawn Landes, I made a mental note to arrange a march on Washington for my people. I walked past the Austin Convention Center where Eric Nyffeler and Michael Nielsen were packing up their posters, unaware of the role they’ll play in promoting my protest.

The two illustrators make up Doe Eyed — a design and print studio in Lincoln — and they were closing out a week at Flatstock. We'd caught them about an hour before closing time and talked about what else but concert posters and Nebraska music:

SXSW: Doe Eyed at Flatstock 2012 from Hear Nebraska on Vimeo.

Just down the aisle from Doe Eyed, FugScreens Studios had hung a Cursive poster made for the band's March 25 show in Chicago with Conduits and Cymbals Eat Guitars. I was curious to hear how Zissou Tasseff-Elenkoff, the studio's main designer, set up this arrangement. Turns out it was a simple email inquiry that Cursive fan and Fugscreen marketing manager Allie Whalen sent and heard back from, and this is what came of it:

SXSW: Fugscreen Studios at Flatstock from Hear Nebraska on Vimeo.

I didn't meet a concertgoer or even fellow journalist who had heard of anything Nebraskan past that of Saddle Creek all week at South by Southwest. As I waited for Justin Townes Earle across town at Stubb's, even the photographer who listed "silver lining finder" as a quality on her business card didn't spout off any favorites when I told her who I work for.

So we dived into the photo pit as Townes Earle was prioritizing his cigarette over the soundcheck. Son of the legendary songwriter Steve Earle, Justin is partly named after Townes Van Zandt. He employs a country orchestration with pedal steel and his own drawl. He speaks between songs as if he grew up on the stage, which is pretty much the case.




I stayed for a few songs, including one about hating Brooklyn, then booked it to St. David's Historical Sanctuary on the adamant recommendation of my friend and Nebraska-native songwriter Logan Vath. His jam now is The Lumineers, out of Denver, and he's right: They are a hell of a show, with boot-stompingly good folk rock.

As I sneaked in the hallowed hall at the foot of the stage in front of the pews, though, I caught the last song of The Milk Carton Kids, who said Saturday marked exactly one year together. It was another folkie duo, this time with blistering acoustic solos and quick wits for what they call back-porch Americana.


But back to The Lumineers. Easily the most expressive musicians I saw in Austin, by the end of their short set, these folks brought the parishioners to their feet shouting in the normally quiet-as-space Episcopal church. Of course, the highlight was the polar opposite, though: a surround-sound performance of "Gun Song." The band set up in four corners with their singer and guitarist, drummer, pianist and cellist playing without amplification.

You didn't hear it from me, but there's talk of a Nebraska show within just a few weeks. Keep your ear to the ground for that one.


I scooted on over to Joshua James at the other SXSW place of worship, Central Presbyterian. James' songs are gospel-like, especially his newest single, "Coal War," and the acoustics were wonderful for his slightly raspy, soulful voice with a delicate timbre. My ears perked up most, though, when I heard him say, "I grew up in Lincoln, Nebraska," and the audience responded with a bit of applause. He told a story of his childhood friend who had lost her father and how he tried to console her then played a song inspired by the experience.

After his set, I spoke with him out back as he loaded the car and prepared for an all-night, part-of-the-day drive back to Utah, where he moved when he was 18. He says he had a lot of wild times, caused a lot of mischief in Nebraska. He didn't pick up music until he moved away, though, and although he raved about Two Gallants' set and Adam Haworth Stevens' solo record, he admitted he doesn't follow Nebraska music closely.



As I went back to St. David's, back to the other church to see Jake Bellows with Whispertown, I realized I was cleaning my spirit of the shamrock experience. If anything, the band LP's Laura Pergolizzi dislodged any bit of the pit in my stomach that was left.

Her high, piercingly sweet vocals and whistling rose cut through the air, likely finding their way out and up, through the clouds and to the sky above. Despite breaking a ukulele string on the penultimate song, LP played on with a haunting closer before Whispertown took the stage.



Whispertown added a bassist and drummer from The Belle Brigade, raising the band's redhead count to three and my respect increased in kind. Lead singer Morgan Nagler said the additions had only listened to their records and hadn't actually practiced with the band. I would never have guessed.

The slinky bass and solid drums provided a dynamic rhythm section for the rest of the instrumentation including Bellows' pop guitar and characteristic voice as backup singer save for one song at the end. Sure, it was strange hearing the Neva Dinova-famous musician play second fiddle, but it's good to hear anything from him.


I decided to end South by Southwest with The Heavy, and I was willing to wait for it. The line ended up being about 30 minutes long at The Stage on Sixth, and the beer at that point inside was tasteless and still charged at a premium for the holiday. Still, once vocalist Kelvin Swaby started singing face-to-face with folks at the front, everything was good.

This English soul rock band with another helping of soul took their songs and threw them into the beating hearts surrounding the stage. It was a fitting close to the year's best week of live music. Now, as my phantom wristband keeps riding up on my arm, I'm trying to hold tightly on to the smaller details, the memories that will soon be buried under the days to come. Thank you, Austin, and I'll see you soon to make some more.


Michael Todd is Hear Nebraska's managing editor. After four successful nights of sleeping on a dying air mattress, it seems the fifth one did him in. That, or he fought a streak of tigers in his sleep. Reach Michael at michaeltodd@hearnebraska.org.