03.16.08
The city sleeps.
The last real day of the festival I oggled my way around the city, soaking up the sights and sounds of hipsters, hoopla, and 85 degree weather. I felt like a whirling dervish just spinning around with my eyes wide open in a city at capacity. If there was a gatekeeper for Austin he would be sitting on a bar stool somewhere outside of town with a yellow sign marked with fat sharpie marker: VENUE FULL. The streets are stuffed with advertisements and circulars either soaked with beer and stuffed in the pavement’s crevices or flipping around in the wind. My week couldn’t have ended with any better music. Chromeo in the afternoon at Stubb’s, a valleyed BBQ venue that’s always packed with Miller Tall Boys and dancing crowds. The pair orchestrated a thumping dance party with a synthesizer and electric bass. The shone with all of their LA might, treated the crowd, already over-stimulated by afternoon Austin sun, to a frantic light show and electronic sound tricks. I ambled out of Stubb’s and into a random wine tasting venue to catch a chair and some AC. I ended up watching a cooking demonstration put on by a chef from Central Market grocery who cooked up risotto race cakes, grilled shrimp, and beef flautas, to pair with Robert Mondavi wines. As random as it gets. On and on I went to South Congress to Guero’s taco joint* and saw some acoustic acts, met up with some friends, and then headed back downtown. I missed M. Ward. Apparently everyone else at the festival was just as excited as I was to see him perform, but they were perhaps a bit more excited and arrived in time to make it happen. I caught up with a friend, and then, appropriately enough, caught a show at Mohawk on Red River: Best Friends Forever. They were priceless. I bought one of their cds and will hopefully be reviewing their concert in full at a later time, when my brain is firing on all cylinders again.
After that show, I raced across town to go see Digitalism. In other words, I went to a rave. But I had no idea I was going to a rave. Promise. You see, at the beginning of the festival, we were handed a tall, skinny booklet with every artist and every venue. Oh, except for all of the free shows, and all of the free venues, and all of the tents outside of the convention center, and all of the street performers. There are 1700 bands, all of whom are seeking to be “discovered,” and damned if I knew more than 50 of the artists before this week. So you have to go on pure recommendation, and Digitalism came highly recommended. So, I dragged three friends to a club with pricey drinks, a DJ, and about three hundred other people who are very well-versed with the drum and bass scene. So we danced hard, mostly ironically, and watched the group from Hamburg jam out on a string of turntables. When our heades were about to explode my friends left and I went to an after party where I spent the wee hours of the morning with my kyteTV star before wandering home through the quiet streets of the tired city.
