Veronica Falls

Sunday after SXSW is time to repent.  It’s a day to confront questionable decisions—and you made some—and consider the bands missed, the drinks accepted, the morning bb-q indulged.  You ask yourself what it all meant and there’s no good answer, there never is.  Then you remember your favorite acts: Sharon Van Etten, Austra, Veronica Falls, An Horse, and you appreciate the magnetism of terrific, talented musicians.  It’s a basic need.

You still have to overcome some guilt when you look at decent Austin residents who’ve been rampaged by people asking where they can buy The New York Times or charge their phones.  You hear stories from the comely staff at the San Jose about serving drinks for 7 straight hours, confided without a trace of self pity.  Others took a more direct approach—one large sign on the side of a bar (which is nominally in the hospitality industry) read: ‘Thank you/Go home.’

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Resist the temptation to try to come to terms with SXSW logically. These aren’t tax forms you’re dealing with, but 2000 bands, playing in clubs, in tents, on streets, in parks. By design, it reinvents itself every year, and there are countless pathways through the mayhem, all of them leaving you exhilarated and exhausted. You face the assault on your senses and then pick your spots for visceral gratification. The fact that the festival overlaps with St Patrick’s Day is a blessing or a curse depending on your feeling toward public intoxication and fake Irish accents.

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South by Southwest is commercial, chaotic, concentrated. It’s also elemental, extraordinary and the most essential week in American music. In the last few years we saw bands from Au Revoir Simone to Andrew Bird, Beach House to Midlake.  Not in a field with 100,000 stoners or the echo chamber of Madison Square Garden, but in clubs where you’re 50 feet away from Warpaint or School of Seven Bells. At this late date you’re not getting a room at the Hotel San Jose, but you can still road trip to Austin and crash on the couch of your friend who’s still working on their thesis at U of T.  Then head to Marfa check in at the Thunderbird Motel and you’re feeling pretty smart indeed. Don’t worry about tickets, there are free concerts all day, everyday and light beer for everyone.

Every concert needs its audience, so get thee to Austin.

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In the mid sixties some of America’s most talented Soul singers banded together and set out on a European tour that would go down as one of the greatest of all time. The artists on tour were all on the Stax-Volt record label and included Booker T. & the MG’s, The Mar-Keys, Arthur Conley, Sam and Dave, Eddie Floyd and The King of Soul Otis Redding.

The Stax-Volt label was sort of a Memphis equivalent to Detroit’s powerhouse Motown, although Stax was much smaller. After the tour in Europe in 1966 and 1967 the group returned to the states and many of the acts continued on to huge stardom, Otis Redding being the biggest. Sadly, he died in a plane crash in December of 1967 at the young age of 26.

Do yourself a favor and watch all of these videos, they are truly spectacular. The performances are also available on DVD here, should you want to own them. Enjoy.

Video 1 of 6

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First this…

Then this…

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Help Me Make it Through the Night

Jackson

Praise The Lord, I’ll Have a New Life

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Thought it would be fun to share some of the music that has been kicking around my head recently. I hope you enjoy it. I also hope, partially, that if you think I have terrible taste in music, that this post continues to perpetuate that feeling for you.

CHIEF — Your Direction

JJ — CEO Birhday

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This is either something you get or you don’t. I know I sure get it. Give me an open road or a few cold ones, either way this music will have me feeling no pain. This past weekend I spent about 17 hours driving and this was my co-pilot. When it came down to it, I could have kept going for a long time. 100% pure Americana right here — enjoy.

WAYLON

HAGGARD

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Thanks to Steven for the tip. This is mesmerizing both in sound and sight.

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When I was about 15 years-old a family friend gave me $25 of LTV Steel stock. It was of nominal value, but it was an amazing gift — the memory of which has remained with me in to this day. It was especially poignant the day LTV filed for Chapter 11 and closed the last remaining steel mill in Cleveland. That was a disappointing time for me. While LTV was shuttering, the local newspaper — the Cleveland Plain Dealer — ran a series of articles called The Quiet Crisis, about the deflating Northeast Ohio economy and the eroding industrial tax base. It is tough to see things like that happen to any town, especially a town you grew up loving and defending.

I found these beautiful black and white photos from the Library of Congress (via the Detroit Publishing Company archive) and was listening to Bruce Springsteen’s Youngstown and it took me back to the glory days of American industry. Or at least the American industrial 1970s (think Deer Hunter) or when I was a kid in Cleveland in the 1980s. Most of these photos are from Western Pennsylvania — places like Homestead and Braddock — and some are from Cleveland, but the spirit is from Bruce and Youngstown, Steel Town.

Download Youngstown

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