Notes on SXSW

Remember the hipsters?  Post-punk, possibly Emo, finally caught onto European trends, could find one in any U.S. startup within a matter of years?  Because I favored skinny jeans and sometimes dark-rimmed glasses in the early 2000's, I took a lot of flak.

Unlike the hippies with the war and Woodstock and their protests, the so-called hipsters had no unifying culture aside from their fashion, and maybe some music.  Based on bullying from jocks & nerds alike, I understood there was a shared misconception that the democratization of fashion (as I called it) had some underlying exclusivity that was shaking things up.

Quite the opposite, as time has now shown street style, eponymous influencers, and slow fashion explode across the internet, transforming the ways we live and dress.  Covid might have slowed us down, but the ideas kept cooking, and now that tourism and festivals are back in business, fashion is fun again.  2023 was the year I had my first official SXSW experience, in the most unlikely way - as an expat local parading as a tourist.  It's long been my favorite pastime to get out of a rut by hopping in my car or a plane to explore places unknown, but there is no music festival like the multi-national extravaganza that overtakes the Music Capitol of the World in the Heart of Texas, and what a trip, what a treat.

Post-pandemic, SX felt more like it did over a decade ago, when you knew the right people at your favorite places, and could get up close to the stage breathing and feeling the music.  It's never the same experience.  I saw Andrew Cashen's band twice, leaving with a yellow rose and a blissful haze.  Lindsey Mackin was smackin' her lips driving the boys wild at Hotel Vegas with Annabelle Chairlegs.  KMFA hosted the most intimate live recording of Caramelo Haze that felt like stepping into radio royalty. Bose took an empty lot on the East Side and turned up Coachella vibes, where Genesis Owusu shook like Prince - I couldn't take my eyes off him.  

Grabbed a pedi to the 13th Floor where Pussy Gillette puts rock-hard bitch in your punk is alive and well, thank you.  Eats at Comedor, land of artful Mexican where you never know who you'll meet in the moody alcoves.  And Moody Bank$ WAS there, giving a private performance for the opening of woman-owned & operated Nativas Studios.  Sleep, wash, repeat.  Brunch with a dear friend at old faithful Aba, get invited to the Spin Pool Party (it's SX, it's magic), wander over to SX San Jose (anyone can, and should!), stumble upon Blondshell, my new obsession for Indie-Emo rocker chick ballads.  The Zombies are releasing a new album, and SX-goers got a preview of old & new at Stubb’s. Pinch me.

Britt Daniel from Spoon hops on stage to duet with titties-flying Sabrina Ellis during A Giant Dog's set at Continental Club... another day in Austin, or is it?  Still decked out in PatBo, the Oracle Sisters are singing me swinging lullabies.  Switch gears, Caleb de Casper swoons with sparks flying (I cannot get that hook out of my head - you should know the one).  I couldn't make it to Bun B but I did see Blackillac pop off the stage with fly beats and quips taking me back to hip hop's Golden Age.  Never too full for dessert, finished with the girls at Justine's.

Was it all a dream?  Only the best kind, and my camera don't lie.  More important is the singing in my soul seeing this magnificent evolution go beyond fashion, even beyond music, to create, connect, to rebuild community we all so desperately need.  If cotton was once the fabric of our lives, music is the language of God's love, bringing us together again in this dance of humanity.  Question is - where will it take us next?

"Kid, you’ll move mountains!”

-Dr. Seuss

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