About 8 a.m. Wednesday morning, fully caffeinated, two colleagues and I hopped into a rented Chevy Impala and began the long journey to Austin, Texas, for the annual South By Southwest Music Festival.
This is was my sixth trip to Austin in the past eight years, but this year there was one change in the scenery: Some boldly crazy political billboards. First we saw George W. Bush smiling down at us, posed next to the question: “Miss me yet?” That one we’d heard about. The next one took us by surprise: A glowering portrait of President Obama next to the enormous allegation: SOCIALIST BY CONDUCT.
Welcome to Texas!
Austin, of course, is a different story.
- JUSTIN FOX BURKS
- Raphael Saadiq, wielding a guitar at Stubb’s
“This Austin isht is crazy. Kinda like an interracial freaknick!” — Atlantic Monthly writer Ta-Nehisi Coates, a personal fave, tweeted from outdoor amphitheatre Stubbs, apparently experiencing SXSW for the first time. And, at SXSW, the freaks don’t just come out at night. They’re on the roam 24-7.
By the time we got into town, got settled into our respective temporary abodes, and had Mexican food and margaritas on the outdoor deck of one of probably hundreds of Austin haunts that offer such sustenance, the opening night of the festival was half over.
But we still got off to a pretty good start.
My experience of SXSW has been that the artists I end up seeing tend to fit into four categories: 1. Memphis artists we’re there, in part, to cover. 2. Emerging bands that are the purpose of a festival meant to be primarily and industry showcase. 3. The comfort food of established favorites. 4. Acts you stumble upon by accident or while waiting for something else.
