Frank YangLittle Boots
Blackpool, England, United Kingdom

New queen-in-waiting of the UK electro-pop dancefloors will release her debut album Hands, produced by The Bird & The Bee’s Greg Kurstin, on June 8 in the UK. Her first release, the Arecibo 12″ EP, will be re-released on IAMSOUND on April 14
– Show review 1
– Show review 2
– profiles at Rolling Stone and The Times
– debut album info at State

Photos: Little Boots @ Emo’s Annex – March 19, 2009
Photos: Little Boots @ Brush Square Park – March 21, 2009
MP3: Little Boots – “Love Kills” (Buffetlibre vs Sidechains remix)
Video: Little Boots – “Meddle” (live at Fader Fort, SxSW 2009)
MySpace: Little Boots

Frank YangThe last night of SxSW began not on 6th St, where it normally does, but down at the Auditorium Shores amphitheatre where the festival puts on large-scale free shows for the locals by way of thanks for putting up with the massive influx of visitors each year. Some friends wanted to unwind down there, away from the chaos of downtown, to the narcoleptic tones of Beach House. The last time I’d seen them they were lulling a dozen or so people to sleep beside a roaring fire in the front room of the Tranzac, so to see them on a massive stage in front of thousands in broad daylight was different, to say the least. But their sleepy spell was the same, just exponentially louder, so it was nice to just kick back with a beer and unwind for a bit.

But just a bit. Within an hour, I was in a cab back downtown, trying to meet up with a university friend with whom I’d been playing text-tag with for a couple days. We arranged to meet up at Brush Square Park, where as luck would have it Little Boots was getting ready to play a label party. I had hoped that this set might provide an opportunity for better photos than the Emo’s Annex show a couple nights back, but this time instead of red floodlights there were simply no lights. Terrific. Show-wise, notes from Thursday night’s to-do still apply – I watched the first bit of her set then went off to commiserate.

Heading into the heart of the bedlam that was 6th St, I wound my way to the British Music Embassy at Latitude 30 for a set by Theoretical Girl. Fronted by Amy Eleanor Turnnidge – the namesake of the band – and backed by players dubbed The Equations, they delivered archly charming and clever pop with a distinctly retro-mod vibe. The material all displayed a consistent level of goodness but not much really stood out as a single that would sweep the nation (whichever nation). That said, there’s enough appeal that I wouldn’t be surprised if sometime in the near future, if her hooks become as sharp as her wit, success for the Theoretical Girl could became a reality.

At this point, plan “see Echo & The Bunnymen in small club” went into effect. The gist of the plan, essentially, was to show up at Rusty Spurs a couple hours early and just wait it out until their scheduled midnight set. The fact that there wasn’t an awful lot of interest going on elsewhere on Saturday night made it an easier decision to make. As chance would have it, the two lead-in acts weren’t entirely unfamiliar, both hailing from Canada. The first, Halifax’s Wintersleep, were largely unknown to me though I was aware they were one of the more successful new acts on the Can-rock scene of the last few years. Cursory listens hadn’t impressed, but seeing them live was, if not a revelation, a definite eye-opener. Their grand, atmospheric rock was much nimbler than I’d expected and they displayed a significant amount of on-stage presence and charisma. I understand why they’re of the stature they are back home, and from the enthusiasm of the crowd – presuming they’re not all Canuck ex-pats – their appeal seems to be translating abroad as well.

It was about now that the post-Hot Freaks adrenaline wore off and the weight of the week hit me like two tonnes of bricks. I actually almost spontaneously fell down during Wintersleep’s set, so that’s my excuse for not having a whole lot to say about the set from Montreal’s High Dials. What I found most surprising about their show was that the band still existed – I hadn’t seen or heard them in some six years, though to be fair, I wasn’t really paying attention. But here they were, still turning out high-energy but not especially distinctive mod-inflected guitar rock. And seeing as how the show was running some 30 minutes late, I just wanted them to be gone and the Bunnymen to arrive.

And 30 minutes behind turned into more than 45 before the Liverpool legends finally appeared. Now the whole “big band/little club” thing can be taken two ways – as an opportunity for superstars to re-connect on an intimate level with their fans, or as the manifestation of the proverbial, “see you on the way down”. This Echo & The Bunnymen show fell somewhere in-between. Having already played some three or four shows during the festival, there wasn’t quite the sense of occasion around this last gig – especially not with PJ Harvey wowing them at Stubb’s down the street – but the room, which by my estimation held around 400 tops, was still packed with fans from the surprisingly young to the unsurprisingly old.

Though a natural conclusion to make given the recent surge in ’80s/’90s-vintage reunions, it’s unfair to Echo & The Bunnymen in with those. Although down to only half the original membership, they got back together over a decade ago and continue to produce decent new works, if not nearly as seminal as their older material. And it’s almost unfortunate that they’re still a creatively active band, because that’s not what those in attendance wanted to hear. They wanted to hear the classics, dammit.

And not at all grudgingly, the band complied, kicking off with “Lips Like Sugar” and delivering pretty much a greatest hits set. Of the only two remaining original members, guitar god Will Sergeant looked decidedly his age but singer Ian McCulloch, improbably decked out in a woolen pea coat despite the sweltering heat, was almost eerily ageless. McCulloch was surprisingly gracious, given his irascibile reputation, going so far as to crack some jokes and even a smile or two over the course of the night, though his temper did flare up at a couple points in the evening. Vocally, he was also in pretty good form – any time you thought that his voice might be showing its age, he’d find another gear and belt out the most crucial part of the song the way it was meant to be. Similarly, Sergeant was inspiring on guitar, as much for reminding you of all the brilliant parts he’d written over the years as for what he was actually playing.

But somehow it didn’t feel like they were big stars playing a special, tiny show. For the greatness of their repertoire, their charisma didn’t feel stadium-sized and set to blow the club to pieces, but simply club-sized. Whatever presence McCulloch once had that allowed him to perform without moving but still mesmerizing isn’t really there anymore – see Liam Gallagher for an example of that talent in action. That, however, didn’t keep me from enjoying the show any less, though. I was perfectly happy to take them for what they were and enjoy hearing the likes of “Bring On The Dancing Horses”, “Back Of Love” and – most crucially – “The Killing Moon” live. A completely satisfactory way to close out SxSW 2009 as far as I was concerned.

And, save for another, oh, 40 or so of those little A/V posts – bear with me, please – that’s it for South-by coverage for this year. Final tallies were 46 performances by 44 different acts, 20GB of photos and one kick-ass time. I suspect there’s an inversely proportional relation between my perception of the quality of the festival’s lineup and how good a time I have. A couple months ago, I called the assembled talent “weaksauce” – meant partly in jest and only relative to the acts that I’d hoped would be in attendance – but I still nearly killed myself running around downtown Austin trying to catch all the bands I wanted to see and the last thing I needed was more choices to agonize over. And so to all bands and friends new and old who made the trip one of the best weeks I’ve had in recent memory, I thank you and will see y’all next year.

Frank YangWhen I arrived at Austin’s Central Presbyterian Church on Thursday night, the lines to get in were already folded on themselves several times over and spilling out onto the sidewalk. I’d have liked to think that they were all there to see The Rural Alberta Advantage like I was, but most were probably looking for a good seat to see Grizzly Bear.

Both opening bands should have thanked eMusic profusely for arranging the bill as they did, and basically giving two unknown acts an opportunity to impress a packed house of Grizzly Bear fans. First up were San Francisco’s Girls, who failed to make much of an impression. Their jangle-with-a-touch-of-psychedelia pop was decent enough, but really not anything that hadn’t been done many times before and better. Shrug-worthy.

I realize I’m pretty biased about The RAA on account of how much I love the band, but I think I am stating an impartial fact when I declare that for their debut SxSW showcase, they absolutely killed. It took me a little bit to adjust to hearing Nils Edenloff’s vocals, so strained and dry on record, echoing in the church acoustics but it really did give chills. Indeed, Paul Banwatt’s thunderous drumming and Amy Cole’s marvelous harmonies never sounded better – talk about presenting a band in their very best light. I’ve always believed that the only thing you need to make someone love the RAA is to have them hear them play and I cannot believe that wasn’t the case for everyone in attendance last night – the huge, absolutely huge response they got when they came down from the stage and into the centre of the church for their “Good Night Song” did not lie. Nor did the person I overheard leaving, saying “that may have been the greatest thing I’ve ever seen”. It sounds impossible, but the Rural Alberta Advantage gave Grizzly Bear a tough act to follow. A staggering performance.

I could have happily ended the night there, but that’d have been a waste of an evening so I after leaving the church (and making one Grizzly Bear fan waiting anxiously in line very happy), I hopped over to Rusty Spurs to see Italian-Canadian’s A Classic Education. I reviewed their debut EP last year but was quite surprised to see how far they’d come since then – the six-piece band on stage was quite confident and assured, and more than capable of creating stirring, epic-scale sounds. But having said that, I found that my initial criticisms that they didn’t sound fully realized somehow, still held – though less so. The newer material sounded good but it also sounded like they were reaching for something still just a bit out of reach – but with time, I expect they grab hold and do so firmly, and when they do, it’ll be something to behold.

At this point there was a break in my schedule during which I opted to head to the venue for the evening’s Playboy party, for which I had a precious invite. Now to be honest, I didn’t really want to go – Jane’s Addiction holds no kind of appeal for me – but I figured that I should at least give myself the option. Or someone else, since the registration guy opted to just hand me my admission wristband rather than put it on me and make it non-transferable. It’s here that I considered just walking down 6th Street, offering it up to the highest bidder but instead kept it handy in case I chose to go.

But whichever way I decided, it was still too early to go – doors weren’t open for another hour – so it was back into the scrum to find something to see. Chairlift were running way behind so after conferring with Kyle from More Cowbell for a bit, I opted to hit Emo’s Annex to see Little Boots, on account of her being an artist of no small amount of buzz, to say nothing of the fact that I was right in front of the venue and there was no lineup.

Before Ms Boots were peculiarly-named Danes The Asteroids Galaxy Tour, who near as I could tell played danceable funk-soul with a distinct Scandinavian iciness, an interesting mix though I was a bit more preoccupied with trying to assess just how heinous this show would be to photograph – a venue as large as Emo’s Annex really should do better than two red floodlights.

It occurred to me just before Little Boots came on that the things I knew about her – formerly of Dead Disco, plays a Tenari-On and styolophone onstage and is given to doing dancey covers and remixes – but didn’t really know what her own material, was like. Answer? Catchy electro-dance pop, no big surprise there, but what was somewhat surprising was how full-on diva (in the good sense of the word) Victoria Hesketh was. Resplendent in sheer strapless dress and impressive heels, there was no mitigating the glam for the indie masses – she danced, preened and worked the crowd like a pro, and the audience ate it up. I was going to say that this isn’t normally my sort of scene, but I seem to be developing an affiinity for the ’80s-retro synth stylings of late, so maybe it’s becoming my scene. Which is okay, because it’s rather a more attractive-looking scene than my usual one.

And speaking of attractive, I didn’t end up going to Playboy. Absolutely hit a wall before Little Boots’ set and barely managed to drag myself back to the hotel. My dogs, they were barking, and the bunnies were going to have to get by without me. Alas.