Adventures in Austin

AUSTIN, Texas - There was only one chance to see Little Rock native Jeff Nichols’ new film Mud at the sprawling South by Southwest (SXSW) Music, Film and Interactive festival. That screening was one of hundreds of events, which also included other films and performances by Dave Grohl, Prince, Smashing Pumpkins and Justin Timberlake. Little Rock rapper SL Jones and bluegrass outfit The Austin Steamers, featuring Monticello-born Joe Sundell, helped round out Arkansas’ presence.

It’s spring break in Austin, and downtown and the nearby neighborhood known as the East Side were flooded with high spirited students, media reps, techies and entertainment insiders and hopefuls.

Corporations such as AT&T, Chevrolet, Yahoo! and Nintendo sponsored day lounges, shows and parties, along with chances to test the latest gaming console or check out the electric Chevy Volt.

The city of Austin rents out about 50,000 hotel rooms for the 10-day event, although many visitors simply stay with friends. Many don’t buy an official SXSW access, which can cost $180 to $1,600. Mine was a classic low-budget South By (in local lingo) experience: sharing a friend’s studio apartment with three other people, two cats and two dogs, trekking four miles round trip on foot from the gutter-punk populated East Side to the skyscraper-dotted downtown, on the west side of the interstate overpass, and binging on music and film.

The festival draws international acts and visitors and is considered the largest event of its kind worldwide. Founded in 1987 as a music festival, the first SXSW drew about 700 people. Film and multimedia were added in 1994. In pre-Internet days, SXSW was a place for fans and industry taste makers to discover new acts. It also became a place for artists to relaunch waning careers, such as Johnny Cash did in 1994.

Now it’s a free-for-all, with bands lingering for weeks, playing more unofficial gigs than official ones. The Fayetteville band Sw/mm/ng was one of the unofficial acts rocking the city’s east side.

According to SXSW’s website, in 2012 the local economy was infused with more than $190 million. By e-mail, SXSW noted that this year’s conference had 65,204 registrants.

University of Central Arkansas education professor Michael Mills was a speaker at the education portion of the event, which wrapped up a few days earlier.

“I’ve spoken at conferences before, but this one seemed a little different,” he said. “There was more press, more eyes. I think it had to do with Thursday’s keynote.”

No wonder, since that March 7 keynote address was by Microsoft founder Bill Gates. A self-professed nerd, Mills arrived early enough to nab a front row seat, ahead of the crowd that swelled to 4,000. He came away disappointed. “He spent half his talk interviewing three CEOs of ed-tech companies. I thought it was strange, watching this billionaire, up there channeling Oprah,” Mills said.

Mills says his presentation, about mobile devices in the classroom, drew about 300.

“My essential argument is this: To not allow students to use their mobile devices is to not allow them to use what they’re comfortable with … that hurts minorities and low socioeconomic groups the most, because research shows that those groups are more likely to rely on mobile phones to access the Internet than affluent whites,” he said.

Following the March 10 screening of Mud, held in the domed, classical grandeur of Austin’s oldest theater, The Paramount, actor Matthew McConaughey spoke onstage: “It [the character of Mud] was a different voice than I’d ever read. I fell in love with the way he spoke, the way he was informed. My job was to get the specific rhythm, the way he meandered his tales … other than that, it really laid out [on the page].”

The next morning, I met director Nichols, now an Austin resident, at Thunderbird, his neighborhood coffee shop. Nichols demystified some things, such as how, in Mud, he managed to perch a 1-ton boat in the forked branches of a tree (a crane and fancy editing), and he chatted about the Little Rock punk band Smoke Up Johnny. He is smart, unassuming, congenial.

SW/MM/NG AND K-POP

By my third day at SXSW, I am averaging three hours of sleep a night. I’ve eaten two vegan sausages and four bean tacos (all after 2 a.m.), seen six films and a handful of bands. But, according to friends who stumbled upon it, I missed “the world’s greatest performance” by Fayetteville-based psychedelic-pop group, Sw/ mm/ng. They weren’t an official part of SXSW. They drove down, crashed on a friend’s floor and played a few East Side bar gigs. The Arkansas band’s favorite was at an arty dive called Cheer Up Charlie’s.

“That show was such a good experience,” says Sw/ mm/ng vocalist Brian Kupillas. “There was a good vibe, all these people dancing. We got to set up and play in a really small corner, and we really like when we get to play on the floor, on the same level as the crowd, because it’s more intimate.” Pittsburgh-based clothing brand ModCloth recently used Sw/mm/ng’s song “Some Dreams Come True” in a promotional video.

Under most circumstances, bands apply to play official SXSW gigs, which may confine their exposure to people with badges and wristbands. In 2012, about 10,300 acts applied and 2,286 were selected to play 104 stages. Unofficial showcases go on day and night, and entry is usually free. These shows are also sponsored, usually by independent outlets such as Brooklyn Vegan or Burger Records. Most official SXSW bands will play at least one unofficial set, and many more go the route of Sw/mm/ng, playing nothing but unofficial sets.

In addition to some killer free shows - standouts include Seattle garage shredders Night Beats and Nobunny’s junkie rock-opera shtick - there were also some surreal SXSW showcases.

The K-pop - Korean pop - event was packed. At 1 a.m. March 13, Rosa Villanueva, 21, said she had waited outside since 9 a.m. to gain entry. She came for headliners f(x), a prefab song-and-dance girl group that performed about four numbers. The production value was astounding - lasers, strobes, screens, projections. It was a music video come to life. About 10 guards materialized, lining the stage as f(x) performed; the crowd pushed forward like the frantic fans captured in vintage Beatles footage.

“I’m learning Korean because of their songs!” Villanueva squealed, waving her handmade sign with Korean characters.

JONES AT LAST

The next day, I caught SL Jones’ full set. Jones, 23, is a baby-faced gangsta who sports a gold grill, raps with a drawl and mentions Little Rock frequently. He was born in Flint, Mich., and lives in Atlanta, but claims Little Rock as home because, in a childhood punctuated by new schools and intermittent homelessness, “Little Rock is the place I [lived] the longest.”

He punctuated his statements with a raised arm, moving his torso to the syrupy beats, casually strolling the stage. At his best, Jones’ lyrics veer confessionally:“The prosecution trying to take away what I love most/ my family and freedom … It’s a shame I had to almost lose them to learn how to treat them.”

Last year Jones performed at SXSW unofficially. This year, his manager set up an official showcase and a couple of side gigs. “The Audible Treats show [his official gig], that was probably the most involved I’ve been with a crowd,” Jones said.

“We’re still adding pieces to our machine …. We need a DJ that’s going to rock out with us …. Last night Advance was our DJ. We met him just recently, he’s a homie [from Atlanta], he loves the music, he’s just like us - brand new, looking for that same thing.” Jones hopes Advance will become his regular DJ.

A private showcase at a small venue called The Belmont had a stellar bill - Frightened Rabbit gave us melodic Scottish pop, Welsh rockers The Joy Formidable lobbed an experience akin to being trapped inside a fantasy video game and English quartet Alt-J delivered freak folk to a trip-hop beat. But the line that wound around the venue four hours before it opened was about something else - the chance to share The Flaming Lips with a few hundred fans rather than several thousand. The band drew more than 10,000 the next day, March 15, at the free Lake Shore Auditorium show.

Lips frontman Wayne Coyne announced an unprecedented mission - to make it through the band’s entire 2002 album, Yoshmi Battles the Pink Robots. The show began at 8 p.m., but there were half a dozen bands on the bill. Flaming Lips didn’t take the stage until nearly 1 a.m. We were halfway through Yoshmi at 2 a.m. when the venue shut the show down. But that hardly mattered. Nor did anyone care that there were no giant hamster balls and none of the props this band is known for. There were ridiculous sounds - crystalline, phenomenal - and exuberant affection from Coyne.

On March 16, my f inal day at SXSW, I saw my eighth movie, Joe Swanberg’s Drinking Buddies, about a man who loves his girlfriend but doesn’t appreciate her marriage push and the complicating factor of his sexy best friend, played by Olivia Wilde. It’s the mumblecore guru’s most commercial film to date.

That evening, The Austin Steamers played their 12th and favorite set at SXSW.

Papi Tino’s, a twinkling treehouse of a bar, was transformed into the Brooklyn Country Cantina, thanks to sponsors Brooklyn Lager. The rollicking twang of clean strings was a welcome change from the reverb hash favored by the rest on the East Side. The Steamers interspersed their originals with old favorites, such as“Freight Train Blues,” and Sean Tracey was remarkable on harmonica.

SUNDELL AND STEAMERS

Arkansan Joe Sundell, 30, plays banjo for The Steamers. He used to play in The Sundell Family band with his father and his brother Jack. (Little Rock knows Jack Sundell as owner of The Root restaurant.) Joe Sundell moved to Austin three years ago and met the other Steamers in late 2011. Their first gig was at Austin’s White Horse, and the bar offered them a weekly residency. Now they have a second residency and other gigs. Sundell supports himself with his instrument. Since he’s used to pulling five gigs a week, SXSW’s 13 gigs over eight days is only a bit of a stretch.

“I think that’s normal for South By, especially for people who live in Austin. You get so many offers,” he said.

He’s still learning how things work. “The reality of it is, yeah, hard to wrap your mind around. A million people come to the city. There’s definitely some bad gigs that you don’t want to play …. The good gigs are so much fun and you make new fans, and it gives you energy to do the music and keep on with it.”

The Austin Steamers played two official shows, including SXSW’s interactive awards ceremony. They had one terrible, unofficial show in a downtown bar. “The sound guy had maybe never done an acoustic band,” he says.

Then he catches himself. “I don’t want to complain … but a lot of the musicians I know are very cynical about South By. It’s sort of a way to get a whole bunch of bands to come to Austin and play for free for the hope that they’ll be discovered.”

When they began their 12th set, Papi Tino’s courtyard was deserted. It was filled to capacity by the time the set ended. Then the host announced that The Austin Steamers were closing out the venue, playing the 1 a.m. slot - news to the crowd and the band.

“It was funny that they asked us to play while we were standing there,” Sundell said, admitting that they’d been looking forward to heading home for some rest. “But it was worth it. It was fun.”

After toe-tapping to The Steamers’ first set, I retreated to my sleeping bag so that, come daylight, I could reacquaint myself with Interstate 35 and head home. But I awoke a few hours later when my friend returned from her restaurant job. She wanted to catch The Coathangers’ 1 a.m. set at Hotel Vegas.

I was exhausted, but for all girl trash-rock from Atlanta, I slipped on my shoes and left.

Only it wasn’t The Coathangers. They’d traded sets with Nashville, Tenn., thrash-punkers Useless Eaters. The music was loud, the mosh pit was gentle. So we moshed, pushing with palms and ducking crowd-surfers, flinging a farewell to SXSW.