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Oranger / Preston School of Industry / Spoon Death Cab for Cutie / White Stripes / Peaches / fuck And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead / Songs: Ohia Various venues in Austin, Texas March 16, 2001 Review by Squid We killed our hangovers with brunch at Opal's and headed over for the Listen.com party at Ruby Tuesday's. It promised to be a veritable KUSF reunion now that Larry Love has started working there. The set up featured an outdoor stage that was perfectly suited to the fantastic sunny weather we didn't see much of during our stay. Oranger were already onstage by the time we got there. We'd seen them before at Noisepop and thought they were a lot of fun. The out-of-state locale of this show was most likely what prevented them from repeating their production of a completely white stage set and totally white outfits. We won't even get into the gratuitous use of cotton balls. Squid liked them best when they went completely Sixties pop thanks to Patrick on the keyboards. At any rate they were a good ice breaker and successfully pulled a big crowd out to the stage. An impressive feat when you consider the number of hip industry types in attendance. Next up were Scott Kannenberg's Preston School of Industry. It was our big chance to see them after missing out on the show at NoisePop that we heard was so good. Leave it to Daz, we were in the process of enjoying the music when she turned to me and said. "That cymbal. It's broken. Why is it broken?" There she sat, her head bobbing up and down to the music murmuring, "He's going to get hurt...why is it broken?". She got a little fixated. It was still a good set, damaged equipment notwithstanding. It was at that point that we decided to take a break and head over to Emo's to try and catch some of Spoon's set since we'd heard so much about them. We found that we were just in time to catch another set by Barsuk Records darlings Death Cab For Cutie. We were pleased as usual with their mix of loopy guitars and perfectly timed pop. Spoon were definitely the buzzband of this particular day. We were honestly grateful for the chance to see them since it seemed as though we were going to be hearing about them a great deal. They were perfectly fine guitar pop, but we honestly couldn't see what the big deal was. We acknowledged the difficulty in checking out a new band without any historical background and decided we would try and see them again before we decided we didn't like them. And so it was back over to the Listen party to throw back more beers and have a stompin' good time with those purveyors of minimalist bluesrock, the White Stripes. They made Squiddy feel like she'd won the lottery by opening up with her favorite Son House song, Death Letter. Every time we see them we're constantly amazed by the amount of sound that this duo can produce. It's full and fat and rockin' and by this point the entire stage area was crammed with a dancing and drinking throng. In the dark, no less. The whole thing was like an indie rock Mardi Gras that carried us back out into the street and off to our next set of gigs. Red-Eyed Fly had both the best name and the best neon sign that we saw in Austin. It's also had the standard Austin set-up that was starting to spoil us rotten: big outdoor stage plus smaller more intimate indoor one. We were oh-so-excited to see our good pals, those champions of lo-fi, Fuck. They were sandwiched in between two other acts, the first of which was the enigmatic Peaches. This was one of those cases where something was so bad that we knew it was going to be a least a little good. Peaches is a Canadian ex-pat living in Berlin whose basic schtick is sleaze rap. Squid is sure that there are plenty of people who will champion her as a feminist reclaiming her sexual rights, blahblahblah. Let's just say she certainly knew what her selling points were, and made sure to reveal them slowly in an ever-disappearing set of clothing items. "I didn't mean to take so many pictures, but she just kept taking things off!", said Daz with wide eyes. Indeed. Sex is a very exciting topic, and it took nerve to stand out there with nothing but a basic beatbox set up and a gold leotard. She definitely whipped (pun intended) the crowd directly in front of her into a frenzy. Outside of the context of the strip tease, however, audience reaction was a little different. At one point there were a crowd of us waiting for the bathrooms away from the stage, with the audio from the stage being piped inside. Suddenly Peaches' was screaming repeatedly at the top of her lungs, "DO YA LIKE TO FUCK? WELL, DO YA LIKE TO FUCK?" over and over. The entire group of people, all total strangers, burst into simultaneous hysterical laughter. Environment is everything, particularly in the seedy cat-collared realm of Shock Rap that Peaches inhabits. Squid is fairly certain that her album will be the "Stankonia" in every male indiegeek's collection this year. Appropriately enough, at least thematically, Peaches was followed by our sweet boys from fuck. This was the first time that Squid saw them live, and they certainly didn't disappoint. Tim Prudhomme impressed the crowd with his lithe, ballet-inspired leaps across the stage. He was poetry in motion, that guy. Geoff did Swinger, which is one of Daz' faves, not to mention Rococco. The latter made Daz, "want to dance around her room like a little girl" (!!) They followed up with Italy, a song Italians love to ask them about which was written before any of them had ever even been there. Their newer stuff off Cupid's Cactus (which is on Steve Shelley's label, Smells Like Records) recalled their very first album, Pretty Slow - it was pretty quiet. One of the coolest things about these guys was their ability to swap instruments without missing a beat. How's that for showmanship, eh? Next up were the much anticipated And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead. We've made a pledge not to use our site as a platform for dissing anyone, but every now then you witness something just lame enough to set you off. We had been completely intrigued and looking forward to this show. We'd heard all the rumours about equipment trashings and beatings and mysterious musical aesthetic and we were pretty excited all around. Some guy in front of Squid actually turned to her and said, "Are you ready?" when they took the stage. Turns out the only thing we weren't ready for was a bunch of posers who mistake destroying their drum kit for musical prowess. The guitarist got up there and started strumming his hollow body and singing in this quiet high-pitched tone. Squid's eyebrows nearly shot through her forehead...this was bloody indie rock, not punk! On the opening pop ditty they went until the final drum roll. There was like a beat and a half, and suddenly the drummer, as if he had forgotten a crucial fill, picked up his bass drum and smashed it. Not because their music was a frenzied bloodletting and he was caught up in the moment and lost himself and had no other outlet than to cause damage to himself and objects around him. No, it was more like an afterthought. As if he realized, "Oops, to be hardcore in appearance and to compensate for our pansy-ass sound, I must now break shit." Of course, by this point, the tone had been set, the Pavlovian response patterns were go, and their fans began throwing ice. Wow. Hardcore. They must've sensed Squid's disappointment and exit, coz Daz reported that they then went on to tear both their equipment and the stage apart. Knickabocker, PLEASE. Could someone tell these guys to rent some GG Allin videos one time? And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead have the best band name in the world. Unfortunately, they should give it to someone else. After that whole travesty, Squid took off like a shot to the Copper Tank to witness the glory of her beloved Jason Molina aka Songs: Ohia. Like everything else, this was a showcase for his label, Secretly Canadian. The Kingsbury Manx debacle frankly had Squid scared that he wouldn't show up or that she wouldn't be able to get in or that she would be mowed down by a car before she got there. That kind of thing. Happily, she was joined by Daz shortly thereafter and they ensconced themselves in the front like fifteen year olds. This was a great deal different then the manner in which we saw him when he opened up for Damien Jurado, most noticeably because he had a full band with him. While this was a nice change, we felt a little torn about it. Songs: Ohia (pronounced, incidentally by the man himself as o-HEE-a, like the Hawaiian tree) electric was still beautiful and powerful, but it drowned out the color of the vocals. Molina has a gorgeous fluttering tenor that can hold an entire room in silence. We've seen it. So it was weird to see people taking his singing for granted. That damn well wouldn't have happened if he had been up there with just an acoustic. We recommend that you see him whenever you can. Tragically, he doesn't tour that often. The set finished, we dreamily headed home under the Austin stars. All those bands, all that music. All in one day. --- Read our Death Cab for Cutie review from March 7th, 2001 |