I attended a bash at Northpark that kicked off the arrival of designer Jodi Arnold's new line at The Limited. Although I missed the 6 p.m. fashion show featuring the garments, I did arrive in time for a 40 percent-off-everything sale and the giveaway of $50 gift cards -- talk about a feeding frenzy!
Anyway, I did get to chat briefly with Arnold (right) about the retail collabo, and the spring line seemed perfect for the busy young woman who wants to go from work to nightlife without missing a beat -- or stopping at home! Workplace-friendly dresses, and jackets and tops are easy to layer and un-layer as necessary. Many feature handcrafted embellishments that Arnold says are inspired by different ethnic cultures. Here's more from a news release from The Limited:
"My passion for design is driven by love of fabric, texture and prints," says Jodi, "and my need for newness pushed me to find the next way to evolve my collection for The Limited."
Find out more about Arnold and the new collection in next week's Quick.
Good Records tweets: Buy the new Erykah Badu @GoodRecords & get a wristband to get @fatbellybella to sign it this Saturday 3:33pm at the store-333 CDs available
So get over to 1808 Greenville for the new CD and a wristband.
Erykah Badu drops Part II, Robert Downey Jr. takes Sherlock Holmes to Fight Club, and Prison Break gets the video game treatment it never deserved. Here are your new releases for Tuesday, March 30.
MUSIC
Erykah Badu, New Amerykah Part II: Return Of The Ankh -- What this album needs is a racy, controversial video that will make everybody go bonkers and --- Oh, wait.
Holly Golightly & the Brokeoffs, Medicine County -- The extraordinarily talented singer-songwriter offers up a collection of haunting wild west rockabilly smothered in London fog.
Alan Jackson, Freight Train -- Alan Jackson and his luxuriously flaxen mustache team up once again to dominate country music radio playlists for the better part of the next several months.
Barenaked Ladies, All In Good Time -- Since VH1 retired their I Love the [Insert Decade Here] nostalgia series, the members of Barenaked Ladies had no choice but to record more catchy frat pop anthems, this time without co-founder Steven Page (the one who looks like an IT network admin).
Usher, Raymond vs. Raymond -- According to amazon.com's product description, Usher's seventh studio album "tells the story of balancing the challenges of day to day life as an evolving man while jumping back on the scene as a sex symbol and fearless superstar entertainer." And who can't relate to that?
Black Francis, NONSTOPEROTIK -- The prolific Pixies frontman brings fans more of the same, which is either awesome or exhausting depending on where you stand on Black's solo material.
Ghostface Killah, Raekwon, and Method Man, The Wu-Massacre, One-third of the Wu-Tang Clan join friends old and new to break off a record which sounds, well, old and new. Track nine is the ubiquitous rap album "skit," a tired convention that might be salvageable since it features Tracy Morgan. But then again, so did Cop Out.
DVD
Sherlock Holmes -- Finally, a Jude Law movie that doesn't make me want to punch Jude Law in the throat!
An Education -- An Academy Award nominated coming-of-age film about really attractive British people engaging in really unattractive, definitely criminal things.
Alvin and the Chipmunks: The Squeakquel -- Your kids will want to see this one! Because kids are really, really dumb and don't know any better. Stupid kids.
Steven Seagal: Lawman: The Complete Season One -- I want to know who told Steven Seagal to stop wearing those crazy karate muumuus. It's one thing to be pulled over for DWI by a washed-up action-movie star. It's something altogether more frightening for that action movie star to be wearing a kabuki gown.
GAMES
Prison Break: The Conspiracy (PC, PS3, Xbox 360) -- Celebrate the first anniversary of this dumb show's cancellation by playing a terrible video game based on its idiotic plot and jackass characters. Yeah, do that.
Dead or Alive Paradise (PSP) -- Do you like hand-to-hand combat? Do you like scantily clad ladies? Well, how about some scantily clad ladies engaged in hand-to-hand combat? That's what I thought, pervert.
America's Test Kitchen: Let's Get Cooking (Nintendo DS) -- If this won't convince my wife to buy a Nintendo DS, I'll have to go back to hoping someone comes out with an Antiques Roadshow game.
Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 "Stimulus Package" (XBox Live) -- Downloadable content featuring five new maps for COD: MW2's kickass multiplayer mode. Gamers are already up in arms over the $15 price tag. These are the same people who barely wince dropping $60 a game on the regular. Nut up, nerds.
Just spoke with Erykah Badu about an hour ago regarding the reaction to her "Window Seat" video, in which she walks through Dealey Plaza naked and feigns getting shot near the Kennedy assassination site (see it here). We talked for about 15 minutes about her intentions and thoughts behind the concept, and her fears about the consequences of putting it out there.
Q: To start, what can you tell me about the thought process behind the video?
Badu: It was filmed Saturday before St. Patrick's Day. It was a pretty spontaneous thing. The song "Window Seat" is about liberating yourself from layers and layers of skin or demons that are a hindrance to your growth or freedom, or evolution. I wanted to do something that said just that, so I started to think about shedding, nudity, taking things off in a very artful way. I am from the theater, and this is just a part of expression to us. A part of art. And, I saw a video by a group called Matt and Kim, and it was filmed in Times Square. And I thought it was the bravest, most liberating thing I've ever seen two people do. And I wanted to dedicate this contagious act of liberation and freedom to them. I hoped it would become something contagious that people would want to do in some way or another.
Q: And what was the thinking on the location and the Kennedy element to it?
Badu: Times Square is the most monumental place in New York, and when I was thinking of monumental places, the grassy knoll was the most monumental place in Dallas I could think of. I tied it in a way that compared that assassination to the character assassination one would go through after showing his or her self completely. That's exactly the action that I wanted to display.
Q: And I take it you knew that there would be a similar real-life reaction when the video was released?
Badu: Yeah. I knew that would happen, so as soon as the thought came to my mind, I decided to assassinate myself as a gesture. Because it was going to happen anyway. The video is a prediction of what is happening now.
Q: Tell me about the logistics of filming. Was it really nudity, or was there trickery involved?
Badu: Oh no, it was straight guerilla cam. I got out of the car and I went for it. A day before, I took the same path alone to see where I was going and to see where the "x" spot was. And we only had one shot to get it right, and I decided to go at 3:30 p.m. on Saturday. I told the cameraman that I would meet him there, and when he saw me pull up, he started. We had to speed the music up because we wanted the effect to be slow-motion.
Q: So, it all happened a lot faster than it seems, but there was still time for people to realize what was going on. Were you afraid of the immediate reactions from folks?
Badu: Yes. I was petrified, period. The whole thing was frightening. The whole idea was frightening. Not being in love with my body, not being secure about being vulnerable. The police coming to take me to jail. I'm breastfeeding right now. Anything I could think of, I did. But those little things diminished as I thought about the big picture. And, as I started to walk, I confronted a lot of fears, and I hoped that it would encourage others to do the same thing in their own way.
Q: Are you afraid of any ramifications now, since the city has come out with a statement referring to their disapproval of "guerilla filmmaking?"
Badu: No. That fear left when I fell to the ground. With the death of that part of me, a lot of those fears died as well. I had a paradigm shift, of sorts.
Q: So, this was meaningful for you in a more important way than just making a video or stunting?
Badu: Yes.
Q: Do you have anything else to say to the folks who aren't having a positive reaction to this?
Badu: Sure, I would like to say that it was a protest to awaken a term called "groupthink." It's a term that was coined in 1952. It's the recognition of a state of being for humans. It's human nature for a person to be afraid to express his or herself in fear of being ostracized by the group or general consensus. A lot of times people are judged unfairly because of that. I think about the Salem witch trials, I think about the assassination of Christ, I think about the character assassination of artists and celebrities on blog sites. I think about all of these things as groupthink. And when I fall to the ground in the video, the word groupthink spills out of my head, because I was assassinated by groupthink.
...
When I told my mother what I wanted to do, she was not 100 percent confident that it was the right thing, but she was supportive. I shared it with my family and made sure I told them that this act is not in any way a reflection of who they all are. It's who I am. They said I had their support. I have young children whom I was considerate of and I told them what I was doing. My 5-year-old said, "OK mommy, can I have some more pudding?" My 12-year-old said, "It's all right because I can explain to everyone that my mother is a wonderful person and she's just having fun." After hearing that, I took myself a lot less seriously.
Q: Did you consider the children in the plaza that day?
Badu: I didn't think about them until I saw them, and in my mind I tried to telepathically communicate my good intent to them. That's all I could do, and I hoped they wouldn't be traumatized. The people that got caught in the shot seemed as if they didn't even see me. There were a couple of people, and a guy picking up clothes. It all happened so fast. Of course they saw the camera, so they knew we were shooting something. But it was a great day for me.
(Update: Video's been blocked by Universal on copyright claims, but you can see it in all its glory here. Click on the Ankh, yo.)
I don't usually find out about Erykah Badu's music videos while reading CNN, but this one's special. In the new promotional clip for the single "Window Seat" (from New Amerykah Part Two: Return of the Ankh, coming out tomorrow), Badu strips off her clothes at the JFK assassination site and feigns taking a bullet. The CNN piece explores the controversial aspects of the video, and quotes several comments Badu made on her Twitter feed this weekend. Watch until the very end, though, and you'll get the themes she's trying to put forth: Facing fears, stripping away pretense, starting anew. It jibes with the relationship-centric tunes of the new album, which you'll hear more about later this week in Quick. Until then, check out the video ...
Lizard Lounge may normally be home to all the goth kids and anime-loving, glow stick-waving ravers, but Saturday night was ground zero for a DJ competition. Red Bull's Thre3style battle put eight of the area's best DJ's against each other, and there was some stiff competition.
Though DJ Joe Vega eventually went home with the grand prize (and a chance to represent North Texas in the upcoming nationals), other highlights came from runners-up Fishr Pryce and Johnny Funk (a special nod goes to Buddha Fingers, who didn't place in the top three, but still gave an amazing set).
Exhausted and overwhelmed from the sheer amount of young, no-name bands and concerts with wildly uneven bills to chose from -- the last two days of SXSW were a grab-bag of disappointments and a few pleasant surprises. Even if the end did feel anti-climactic.
But that's the spirit of the fest; everything's a gamble. The band you came to see at 2pm may have: just gone on, had its set moved two hours later, blown off the show, or already played. Either way, don't bother any staff at the 'venue' with your questions -- they just work there, mannnn.
Rather than cramming as much music as possible into Friday, I stuck to one showcase with some foreign blood filling out the bill.
SoKo/ Johnny Flynn and the Sussex Wit at Red House Pizzeria.
Admittedly, much of my knowledge of both French women and French music comes via Jean-Luc Godard movies. So I was startled to see singer-songwriter Stéphanie Sokolinski, AKA SoKo, nail the confessional, bleeding-heart honesty of American acoustic and folk artists, with such self-deprecation and sincerity. I guess I'd expected something between Anna Karina and Édith Piaf.
Throughout the set, her autobiographical lyrics spelled out the story of a disastrous relationship. Despite the soul-baring subjects, Sokolinski rasped every word like it was a wet kiss leaving her lips.
Her arrangements were simple, but often endearing and playful. As was her approach to the entire set. She often paused to joke with and involve the audience, a bashful smile creeping out from behind her charcoal curls. However, her reliance on the relationship story-arch, and a progressively obvious, new-wave hippie vibe -- which discussed veganism and depression with pedestrian insight -- grew stale by the end of set. And while SoKo no doubt created a cute, and at times clever brand of bouncy, minimal folk, her scope seems limited.
How Johnny Flynn isn't mentioned in the same breath as acts like Fleet Foxes, Bon Iver or Band of Horses, I'll never understand. He may live an ocean apart, and traverse some different cultural territory, but the Brit's precocious, poetic folk is just as captivating and -- often -- far more inventive than his American counterparts.
It's impossible not to slip into such flabbergasted thoughts when Flynn breaks into a number as sprightly and inviting as "The Box". But you could've made that argument for most of the tunes he played that casual afternoon. The wind whistling through the trees on the outside patio, most of the audience seated on the floor, looking up at him, the attention was largely focused on Flynn's limber guitar playing, and world-weary, evocative lyrics. Each word, each note, was treated with tenderness, and full of personality. The lyrics hopped along like a can being kicked down a cobblestone street.
Flynn's expert use of restraint kept things constantly interesting, which was in no small part aided by the brilliant arrangements of the Sussex Wit. Fleshing his songs out to a full-band setting allowed him to burrow into the songs, finding unexpected passageways -- dark corners you never knew existed in 'traditional' British folk. He didn't rely on belting out every line to give it power, which made the moments when his voice soared all the more electric ("Sweet William").
Debuting promising new material, Flynn also refused to be pigeonholed in one genre. He often stretched the confines of his sound, transforming sections of what was ostensibly old-world folk with his bluesy guitar playing (aided by his resonator guitar), and the band's subtle use of alternately warm and haunting cello into something else entirely. It was an eloquent, romantic vision; old and serenely new all at once.
When I woke up to the smell of sweat, stale beer -- and craw-fish étouffée? -- I knew Thursday was a success. Although, judging from the following days I spent sick, it might've been too much of a success. But a win, as they say, is a win.
Thursday marked the beginning of the busiest three days of SXSW, and likewise for me, my longest day of the fest. Biking from concert to concert, from noon to 2 am, I surfed extremes across town. From industry-approved, laminate extravaganzas -- like the Middle East day-show, hosted by Paste magazine -- to independent, unsanctioned SXSW affairs, like the Burger Records floor-show at Trailer Space Records.
The only common theme: every show was free. At this point in SXSW's history, if you don't mind the occasional line, and prefer searching the rough for surprises to watching Scott Weiland decompose in real-time, or Zooey Deschanel debut the song from her next indie-marketed cotton commercial, you can still enjoy the best of the fest without paying $165 to 600 for a plastic superiority complex. Thursday's shows kept it real, free, and full of magic. Follow me.
Real Estate at The French Legation, Other Music party
A soft, cool breeze, barely a cloud in the tear drop blue sky, everyone from bloggers to Brooklyn hipsters laying on The French Legation's lush emerald lawn; on Thursday, there couldn't have been a better place to catch this carefree psychedelic rock crew from New Jersey. Gradually easing into its set, Real Estate's songs of suburban slumber and escape slowly came to life, capturing the crowd with trickling, shimmering guitars, and a soulful rhythm section revealed in songs like "Younger Than Yesterday."
I was curious how the band's jamming-tendencies would translate live, worrying I might be lulled to sleep. But despite all the guitars' elated wandering, Real Estate's understated, jazzy drums, and groovy, laid-back bass, on songs like "Beach Comber", tend to snap things back into focus at all the right moments. The songs creep up on you in the best possible way; the bridges are epiphanies. The guitars were never overbearing. No one element ever fought for attention over another. The chilled-out riffs washed against each other like waves licking the sand. The transitions, the drum fills, the smile stretching wide across bassist Alex Bleeker's face as he closed his eyes in contentment during "Atlantic City" -- everything felt entirely natural.
Aside from hearing the single "Blood", I hardly knew anything about this Australian septet before they hit the stage. However, I did know its set was the most buzzed about of the day at the Paste party. That much was obvious from the standing-room-only crowd, whispering fervently in anticipation.
Thanks to some bad scheduling, The Middle East had to make do with a rushed, five-song set. Many bands would panic or whine thrown into similar waters, but the Aussies made every dreamy-eyed note count, and left the audience begging for more.
The group's blend of prim Americana, indie-pop and country-folk -- at times reminiscent of brooding Townes Van Zandt, Bloc Party melodies or the orchestral qualities of The Arcade Fire -- is nothing new. It's The Middle East's approach to the genres that's charming.
Elegant acoustic finger-picking, friends-around-the-campfire group vocals, and heavenly, ascending touches of flute and trumpet coalesce to breathe romance into the sound, creating an alternate portrait of rustic Americana. One distinctly from an outsider's perspective, that distills the genre to some of its most whimsical elements, building its energy around ethereal harmonies, got nothin' left, mumbled through beer ballads and whistled bridges. Look for the group's name to appear on Pitchfork, or in the credits of the next Sofia Coppola movie sometime soon.
Kid Congo Powers at Trailer Space Records, Burger Records showcase
Some of the best moments at SXSW are accidental. Such was the case when I arrived two hours early for the Ty Segall show and saw Kid Congo Powers with his backing band, the Pink Monkey Birds. Otherwise known as guitarist Brian Tristan of The Cramps, the Gun Club, and Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, Kid Congo Powers radiated lip-sneering cool at the smoky in-store. Standing just tall enough to stare down the kids in front, Tristan passionately ripped through his Latino-tinged surf punk, sporadically yelping in glee.
The band's set was tremendous, infectious fun. Supported by a phenomenally tight drummer, Tristan encompassed everything from '60s Link Wray rock 'n' roll and psychedelic spookiness, to badass pub-rock struts. Playing highly danceable tunes, some of the catchiest sounding like a cross between "Do You Love Me" and "Twist and Shout", he blurred genre lines while maniacally tossing off lines like "You look like dead Elvis!" Every song expertly referenced the past while crafting something distinctly Kid Congo. He crooned. He got down. Every song shook its hips with giddy conviction. It was archaic, raw rock 'n' roll abandon -- dressed in mariachi suits.
Baby-faced, sandy-blond, and wearing a sheepish grin, Ty Segall's looks betrayed the madman hiding within. But after the San Francisco garage rocker snarled the first lines of "Pretty Baby (You're So Ugly)" any illusions Segall's face offered of a tame singer-songwriter immediately vanished -- along with any barrier between his band and the violently grooving audience. [Note: This is why I woke up smelling like beer -- or 'rock 'n' roll shampoo', as the guy behind me aptly called it]
Segall's bratty, devilish vocals have shade-rockin' swagger twice his size. You can hear it slobbering and hollering in tunes like "The Drag" (his demented version of a dance-craze tune) and "Oh Mary". His songs of scuzzed-out, primitive, surf-stomping and Nuggets-era noise-punk cut like rusted barbed wire, the best ones foaming at the mouth with sharp, devious joy. The structures are catchy and straightforward, the pawnshop guitars direct and succinct as a bare-knuckle brawl. It isn't difficult to see why -- after only two years and two official LPs -- this kid, along with bands like Sic Alps and Thee Oh Sees, is one of the most heralded artists of the garage rock/nu-psychedelia scene in San Francisco.
While the set touched on Segall's best solo-material, I still came away thinking his most innovative and shining tunes weren't on his solo records at all, but on 2009's criminally under-appreciated Reverse Shark Attack LP. A (hopefully not) one-off collaboration between Segall and Charlie and the Moonhearts guitarist Mikal Cronin, the record reeks of future potential, standing as one of the most challenging, instantly mesmerizing collections of garage-punk flavored psychedelia in years.
Thee Oh Sees at Long Branch Inn, hosted by Impose magazine
Headlining a diverse showcase, the prolific San Francisco quartet took the stage just after 1 am before a hungry, full-capacity crowd. I was squeezed tight up front, standing just a few feet from the stage, but it was obvious every eye in the room belonged to guitarist/vocalist John Dwyer.
Like few other bands I've ever seen, Thee Oh Sees exist in its own time. On record, the band's sludge of garage, punk, noise-rock, and playful 60s bay-area psychedelics is jarring, slick and scary. But live -- it's pure psychosis. Thee Oh Sees sacrificed safety on the alter by the third song ("Rainbow"); they left everything in the moment. And with good reason -- they had another show on the Austin Pedestrian Bridge at 2:30.
I know the band was on stage, but after it broke into, "Block of Ice", it was almost impossible to tell. The audience surged in every direction, becoming as much a part of the show as the band itself. If this isn't your scene, leave, or your decision's made for you. (Hint: You're not going anywhere, unless you plan on crowd-surfing)
Dwyer wasted no time between songs; his guitar perspired with proof. The band occasionally dipped into experimental material, but mostly stuck to the jangly, rock-oriented tracks off its albums Help and The Master's Bedroom Is Worth Spending A Night In. The guitar sound was colossal -- a flood of reverb and head-warped effects. Whether it was picking a fight with the drums, or bouncing around tracks like "Meat Step Lively" with mattress-spring distortion, Dwyer's guitar was jagged as a frayed-nerve; nasty, blithe. The set could've soundtracked a drag race to the graveyard. Every song served as testament to the gut-punch power of unadulterated rock 'n' roll.
For some photographic evidence of the chaos, check out Impose magazine's gallery of the evening here.
Troll 2's claim to fame is having the reputation of being one of the worst movies of all time. Why? Oh, just about everything: the lines, the acting, the hair, the costumes, the editing, the lines, the acting... So naturally, it's a must-see. (The 1990 flick's so awful there's even a documentary celebrating its cinematic... genius.)
Watch the trailer above and especially relish the trolls' latex masks and potato-sack bodies. Then see it in all its gory glory on the big screen at the Inwood Theater at special midnight showings both tonight and Saturday.
For that special demographic of fans who have a passion for Star Wars and basketball, the Star Wars Shop has created exclusive b-ball jerseys, one for an Empire team, and one for the Rebels. The Kashyyyk Rage has Chewbacca as its mascot. Or player. Or manager? And the Death Star Dianogas shirt has the iconic space station emblazoned across the chest. These tees can ship just in time for the NBA Finals -- only question is, which side are you on?
Were you captured by our cameras at Adair's this past weekend? Click on the picture to see Quick's Club Cam gallery. And check back next Thursday for a new slideshow.
A handful of local DJs are preparing for war tonight. Ghostbar presents its first Battle Royale DJ contest, where eight DJs will compete against one another for bragging rights and some killer prizes, too -- a set with Good Charlotte twin spinners, Joel and Benji Madden, anyone?
Actually, that's the first prize for just one of the categories at the battle. The winner of the Ill Skillz match -- a head-to-head matchup starring four DJs to decide who'll win the chance to play a set at Rain nightclub in Las Vegas, all travel costs covered. The Drunken Master stage of the contest challenges the mixmasters to scratch and drink. Whoever survives and thrives gets the Good Charlotte set at the Dallas Ghostbar.
Presided over by Miami's DJ Craze, the judges' panel features locally popular performers: DJ A1 pf the Cannabinoids, DJ Merritt, Parker Lawson of PM Lounge, John Feezy from Candleroom, DJ WishFM and Irving natives Play-N-Skillz (above). Competing for prizes are: DJ Rev, Ro Parrish, DJ Manu, DJ Krave, Joe Vega, DJ Dre, Danny V and DJ NVS. We've all probably heard and enjoyed at least one of these acts, so get to Ghostbar, support your favorite DJ and listen to some killer mixes, too. The party starts at 8 p.m. and goes all night ...
She & Him return, George Clooney alternately stares at goats and embodies a fox, and Wii gamers are blessed with one more excuse to flail wildly in the privacy of their own home. Here are your new releases for Tuesday, March 23.
MUSIC
She & Him, Volume Two: Critics have been favorably comparing the duo's sophomore release to warm spring breezes and 1970s soft rock. Yes, I said "favorably."
Goldfrapp, Head First: Electro-synth pop with an English accent. Is it English or British? I always screw that up. Anyway, if you like She & Him but wish they were robots, Goldfrapp's for you.
Various artists, Now 33: That's What I Call Music: 33 installments into this series and they are still shamelessly referring to this populist ear garbage as "music." Just own it already. Please, I beg of you. Call the next one Now 34: That's What Most People Call Garbage But Commercial Radio Excessively Pipes It Into the Ears of Indiscriminate Sheep Who Still Instinctively Buy Whatever They Hear on the Radio So It Sells a Zallion Singles and Is Mistaken for Actual Music.
The Dillinger Escape Plan, Option Paralysis: Yelling! Schizophrenic time signatures! Yelling! Light-speed guitar riffage! Did I mention there was yelling!?!? Yelling!!!
Monica, Still Standing: Not sure if this album is named after her BET reality show or it's the other way around. She was Ross' sister on Friends, right?
Scorpions, Sting in the Tail: Here I am. Rock you like a prostate exam.
DVD
The Men Who Stare at Goats: A (very, very) loose adaptation of John Ronson's 2004 book and documentary about the U.S. military attempting to introduce new-age psychology and paranormal powers into battlefield tactics. Personally, any film that successfully sets a flashback or montage (or as is the case in Goats, a montage told in flashback) to Boston's "More Than a Feeling" is immediately in my top 10 films of all time.
The Blind Side: Are your heartstrings easily susceptible to manipulative plucking? They are? Holy crap! You know heartstrings aren't a real thing, right? You should probably put off seeing this movie until you've consulted a cardiologist.
The Fantastic Mr. Fox: Wes Anderson's scruffy stop-motion adaptation of Roald Dahl's popular children's novel manages to exude warmth without being corny and wrings believable characters out of fur and fabric.
Brothers: Yelling!
Toy Story & Toy Story 2: Toys come alive and cash in with special Blu-Ray editions. I'm sure it's just a coincidence that these are being repackaged and released just a few months before Toy Story 3 opens. Pure coincidence.
GAMES
Red Steel 2 (Wii): Use your Wiimote to alternate between sword-slashing and gunplay. If only they could integrate it into the Wii Fit game so I could melt away pounds while beheading and dismembering foes.
Just Cause 2 (PC, PS3, Xbox 360): The first Just Cause was, for lack of a better word, ridiculously over-the-top and suffered from repetitive action quests and brick-and-block graphics. This sequel promises to rein in the original's other-worldly physics and tighten up the visuals.
My First Dollhouse (Nintendo DS): Nobody said a child's first dollhouse had to be an actual dollhouse.
The weekend got off to a tuneful start with the Black Eyed Peas' concert (above) at AAC on Friday night. We were blessed with good seats, which made it super-easy to see Will.i.am's cook faux-hawk and Fergie's bodacious lady lumps. Their set was hot -- check out the line-up:
Black Eyed Peas' set list
Let's Get It Started
Rock That Body
Don't Phunk with My Heart
will.i.am freestyling, riffing off of texts from the audience
Imma Be
My Humps
Missing You
apl.de.ap solo segment
Taboo solo segment
Fergie solo, featuring solo hits Glamorous (with help from opening act Ludacris) and Big Girls Don't Cry
will.i.am DJ set
Now Generation
Pump It
Where Is The Love
Encore: Boom Boom Pow and I Gotta Feeling
Once the show was over, it was off to the VIP after-party at Ghostbar, hosted by Bacardi (above). If you squint closely in the photo, you can see Dallas Cowboy Miles Austin near the bar -- and he wasn't the only celeb in the room. Tony Romo was strolling around with a cute blond on his arm, and I ran into Desperate Housewives alum Jesse Metcalfe (right).
Last night I attended the seventh annual Art Party hosted by celebu-chef Kent Rathbun. Being located on the 18th and 19th floors of the Tower at Park Lane, the venue provided great views of the twinkly city below. And not only was the art on display really beautiful, but guests could purchase them on site, if they wanted. Oh, and of course, this being a Rathbun event, the finger foods were fantastic. It was a fun event for a good cause -- March of Dimes.
The four-day beast of a music conference wrapped up on Sunday in Austin. I managed to see most of the bands on my wish list, even if Saturday night's showcases were made a bit uncomfortable by the unexpected cold snap. [Note to self: Keep jacket in car at all times from this point on.]
I've taken many approaches to South by Southwest in my five years of covering it. I've done the frantic dash to see an ungodly number of partial sets. I've hit party after party until my feet were shredded. One year I even went to day panels. Ha! But this time around, I focused on a handful of must-see acts every day, and tried to leave room for the element of surprise.
There's no right or wrong way to tackle this thing. But the result of the quality-over-quantity plan was that I came back to Big D humming several new (and new-ish) favorite songs. Check out the playlist below to hear some of those tunes, and read on for my thoughts on the SXSW acts behind them.
1. The Ruby Suns -- This New Zealand trio falls somewhere between Vampire Weekend and Animal Collective when it comes to musical influences. "Cranberry," from the new album Fight Softly, is the perfect example of the way these guys mix whimsical samples and melodies together with dance-worthy African rhythms. The song marked the point in the Ruby Suns' showcase when they overcame their initial sound issues and truly connected with the crowd.
2. Memory Tapes -- With only a drummer behind him, some minimal canned sounds and his electric guitar, Davye Hawk took a strangely organic live approach to the chillwave-meets-disco tunes of his album Seek Magic. But it worked like a charm. By the end of his set, the Cedar Street Courtyard was packed with dancing fans. Great show from beginning to end.
3. Dum Dum Girls -- I liked that this LA all-girl band didn't try to sound too polished live. Their brand of surf-rock, with nice drawn-out harmonies, is loose and raw by design.
4. Sarah Jaffe -- A fleshed out backing band has helped this gifted Denton singer add more oomph to her live show (if that was possible). But you can also credit some of the newfound power to the songs on the forthcoming album Suburban Nature. Jaffe's controlled delivery and concise lyrics on the single "Vulnerable" made it a highlight of her stunning showcase in the St. David's chapel.
5. Lissie -- This singer, like Jaffe, benefited from the acoustics at St. David's. "Little Lovin'" had been stuck in my head since I'd heard it on KXT a few weeks back, so it was the perfect way to close the set.
6. The Low Anthem -- This Rhode Island orchestral folk act's show was one of my top three at SXSW, not just because the band's singing and playing was intense and compelling, but because the lyrics of "This ... House" absolutely slayed me.
7. Jakob Dylan -- With help from producer T-Bone Burnett and singers Neko Case and Kelly Hogan on the upcoming album Women and Country, the son of Bob tries out a twangier sound and succeeds. His chemistry with Case and Hogan builds throughout "They've Trapped Us Boys," which starts out low-key and gradually turns into a Grand-Ol'-Opry-style toe-tapper.
8. Dawes -- For most of this LA band's set, I enjoyed the alt-country tunes but felt they were a little unoriginal. But when the guys closed with "When My Time Comes," I was reminded of their ability to write a goosebump-inducing chorus and deliver it with gusto. Warning: Earworm.
9. Telegraph Canyon -- The seven-piece Fort Worth band managed to squeeze into a very small stage space at the Ale House, and the intimate setting complemented the urgency and emotion of the music. Frontman Chris Johnson was on fire, physically shaking as he sang certain lyrics. I chose "Safe on the Outside" for this list because hearing it there, in my Saturday-night weakness, damn near made me cry.
10. The Soft Pack -- Everybody saw or wanted to see this band at SXSW, and for good reason. Indie rock doesn't get tighter or more satisfying.
11. Broken Bells -- I'd already been OD'ing on the debut record from this project featuring the Shins' James Mercer and Danger Mouse. So I was actually pleased when they (with some extra band members) played perfectly faithful versions of most of the songs at their Stubb's showcase. "Vaporize" becomes sublime at the end, there.
12. Metric -- Speaking of perfect pop songs, Emily Haines' vocal on this one is the sonic equivalent of a sugar rush. You can't deny it. The crowd at Stubb's certainly couldn't. You should've heard the screams and smelled the ... odors.
13. She and Him -- Nothing earth-shaking coming from Zooey Deschanel and M. Ward, but this cute, retro-tastic tune had the crowd at Rachael Ray's day party swooning. And it helped me forget about that dreadful cotton commercial.
14. Sharon Jones & the Dap Kings -- I see this old-soul-revival group every chance I get, partly because of singer Jones' onstage energy and partly because her band does the James-Brown-style revue thing so authentically. So glad this tune and its corresponding album are on the way. I've worn out the old stuff.
15. Mayer Hawthorne -- This blue-eyed soulster has some work to do when it comes to showmanship. His awkward humor and hipster-hop getup at the Austin Music Hall showcase seemed affected. But it's hard to deny his smooth vocal stylings. "I Wish That It Would Rain" sounds like an old dusty-but-goodie record. All it's missing are the pops and crackles.
16. The Watson Twins -- Yes, I made a 'Shining' joke in my tweet about this show at Central Presbyterian Church. But all creepiness faded away when the twins (who once backed up Jenny Lewis on an album) performed their slinky new single.
17. The Rocket Summer -- Grapevine native Bryce Avary has quite the following, as evidenced at a packed Alternative Press free party at Emo's. Avary thanked the all-ages crowd for its longtime support by crowd-surfing, bringing his mic to the back of the house to sing a song, and releasing confetti near the end of his set. All fun concert tricks aside, this guy shows an increasingly mature songwriting talent on the new album Of Men and Angels. I admire the pop sheen of current single "Hills and Valleys," but "Walls" is Avary at his soulful best.
P.S. -- Read over four days of ridiculous SXSW tweets here. I've never sent so many texts in my life. Thank the lord for unlimited data plans.
Even though Austin's SXSW was a hot spot for live music this last weekend, Dallas still had plenty of great music, too. Pick a club, any club, and there was a band ready to tear apart your eardrums. Dallas band Anchored, pictured above, played Trees on Friday, along with a couple other rock bands. It was definitely rocktastic!
Tonight, I'll be a guest at Kent Rathbun's annual Art Party -- you going? I had to pass on last year's event, so I'm not missing this year's, especially since it takes place at the tippy top of the Tower at Park Lane development. Of course, the party will feature dishes crafted by Rathbun himself -- yum -- as well as artwork from local, up-and-coming artists. And all this revelry is actually for a good cause -- all proceeds from the $150 VIP tickets and the $75 regular tickets benefit the March of Dimes.
You can get a hold of tickets ahead of the 6:30 p.m. party ASAP at marchofdimes.org/artparty.
Just got the new Rolling Stone in my mailbox (Jimi Hendrix on the cover), and there's a "best new bands of 2010" feature. Alan Palomo's Neon Indian is included, with the label "best laptop virtuoso." There's strong praise for the Denton/Austin artist and his "trippy electro-pop gems."
... the best kind of class ever was in session at La Duni. The Northpark Center branch of the popular Mexican food chain held a hands-on mojito making class on its back patio. As we lounged in wicker chairs, a bartender led us through the process of creating a classic mojito -- so easy! -- and demonstrated how to make other cocktails, which we didn't reproduce, but did get to sample. La Duni also provided tasty bites (like the Cuban sandwich, right) to accompany the beverages.
After La Duni, I strolled over to the Versace store where the label's newest looks where on display, amid a fabulous party (below) thrown by Glamour magazine. The wine, champagne and martinis were flowing, and the hors d'oeuvres were a smash. A DJ spun hits in front of the requisite fashion-party must-have -- a video screen showing models on the runway. I felt like the least trendy person in the room (note to self: find a versatile little black dress, already!), but the people-watching was spectacular.
At Versace, I got wind of a similar bash going on at the Diesel store. May as well check it out, right? Though the space wasn't nearly as packed at Versace, there were snackies and cocktails in abundance, and DJ Hoyotoho kept the energy high. Who knew a trip to the mall could be so much like lounge-hopping?
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