SXSW 2019 Day 4: A Trash Can Full of Scooters, And Much More

This year was my fifth consecutive SXSW and I've come a long way from my first, where I would wander, nigh aimlessly, to shows in the middle of nowhere, just in time to watch them wrap up. I've learned a lot about how to traverse the city of Austin without grinding my feet into dust (or spending hundreds of dollars on Lyfts). But each year, I stumble onto something that seems like it was hiding in plain sight amid the city's teeming festival atmosphere.

Sometimes it's as simple as the taco-truck-turned-brick-and-mortar-eatery Pueblo Viejo, which served as my East Austin lunchtime checkpoint all last year. On Saturday, my last day at this year's SXSW, it was a venerable showcase that was one of the wildest shows I've ever seen in Austin. Before we get there, some familiar stuff.

At the Rachael Ray Feedback party at Stubb's BBQ, the food-TV celebrity rolled another stellar lineup of buzz-worthy youngbloods and towering legacy acts for one of the festival's longest-running, most consistent mega-shows. On the small stage, supergroup (of sorts) Palm Palm were wrapping up a rowdy set of classic-rock-with-a-smirk. Palm Palm features members of J. Roddy Walston and the Business, The Head and the Heart and The Southern Belles, decked out in leopard print and harnessing the energy of every goofball rock cliché to great effect. I couldn't help but laugh as Walston, the pride of Cleveland, Tenn., bid a crowd of day-drinking partiers to join the group's fanclub, The Pee Pee Boys. (I'm an adult, I swear.)

On the opposite side of the venue, hip-hop elder statesman Mike D of the Beastie Boys laid into a DJ set of classic New York rap, ranging from M.O.P. to Jay-Z to the hilarious, short-lived rap duo Black Sheep. And yes, of course, there were some Beastie Boys tracks. It was bittersweet watching Mike D rap a third of "Ch-Check It Out," "Sabotage" and "Intergalactic." It's been nearly seven years since the passing of Adam "MCA" Yauch, and the Beasties were a big part of my (and my generation's) childhood. As much as License to Ill doesn't hold up terribly well in 2019, it was cool to see one of the guys behind these songs hyping the party. Even cooler? Watching Sleepy Brown and some of Goodie Mob getting down to Mike D's cuts.

A line around the block kept me from seeing Haiku Hands, an Australian electronic trio that mashes up punk-y vocals with ’90s house music, so I instead headed down to Weather Up for the Thrasher/Vans Death Match, a skate-centric day party deeper into East Austin where Wand was set up a few yards from a half-pipe free-for-all. Wand is a Los Angeles desert-psych band with deep connections to the Ty Segall crew. The band's latest singles, off the forthcoming Laughing Matter, have an easy psych breeze to them, a far cry from the ragged garage rock of their first three records. Wand may be mellowed out, but their riffs still have a bite.

More ferocious, though, were Dublin punks Fontaines D.C., who played their last set of the festival at Weather Up. Fontaines have a similar Fugazi post-punk vibe to Shame, who we caught at SXSW two years ago, but with a little more restraint. (Which is to say: At no point did singer Grian Chatten pour a beer on his head and try to climb on top of a photo booth.) You can hear some of the Irish punk DNA in Fontaines' sound, with hints of the politically frustrated Belfast punk heroes Stiff Little Fingers peppered throughout Chatten's eloquent existentialism.

Broken Social Scene have been all over SXSW this week, playing eight shows in six days, which is a tremendous feat considering that's there's approximately 35 people in that band. Their gig at Scoot Inn closed out their SXSW marathon with a freewheeling burst of joyful Canadian indie rock. Every BSS show I've seen, from the Ryman to Third Man's Blue Room, has been some of the most magnetic live music I've ever witnessed. There's something about this band that exudes an unstoppable aura of fun charm, selling their intricate, dynamic indie with serious gusto.

As infrequent as I am to throw on a BSS record — I'm more of a Stars guy, to be honest — I'm drawn to every show I can possibly see of theirs, glued to Brendan Canning's high kicks, Kevin Drew's laser-like focus on the crowd, and the dynamic swell of their music. This show was no different, with a wide-ranging set, including classics "Meet Me in the Basement" and "Major Label Debut" alongside new tunes "Can't Find My Heart" and "1972."

I knew I was going to love BSS. What I didn't know was that an Austin pop-punk band was going to steal the entire week's show.

I trekked over to The Jackalope to see Riverboat Gamblers based on a tip from a photographer at Wednesday night's show by DRAKULAS, a band that features most of the Gamblers. It's been a 10-year tradition for the group to take over the venue half of the Sixth Street dive bar and lay absolute waste to everything around them. Singer Mike Wiebe wasted no time, hauling himself onto the bar and weaving between dangling light fixtures (and breaking two of them in the process).

I had always been vaguely aware of Riverboat Gamblers, a band that began their rise during the key years of my misspent punk-rock youth, but seeing them at The Jackalope made me understand why a band that hasn't released a new record in almost seven years continues to retain an air of relevance. It's not just Wiebe's antics, which were substantial and dazzling, but the band's simple, visceral punk charm. Pop-punk hasn't retained the greatest reputation (thanks for nothing, Blink 182) but Riverboat Gamblers put on one of the most entertaining shows I've ever seen, culminating in Wiebe diving onto the crowd from the bar after begging the audience not to drop him. It's not that he was worried about the pain of any particular serious injury (one of his lungs collapsed after he fell off the bar during the 2016 run of this same show), he just didn't want to make his wife mad by getting busted up again.

Following a much-needed breather, I hoofed down to Swan Dive for my last can't-miss show of the festival. Dreamer Boy is a Nashville pop duo fronted by singer Zach Taylor with production by Bobby Knepper, who quietly dropped their debut album late last year. Like a lot of records coming from DIY pop artists like Cuco and Clairo, Love, Nostalgia has a ton going on. "Falling for the Wrong One," the runaway hit of the record with more than a million Spotify streams, is a sweetheart dream-pop tune. "Lavender" is an R&B slow-jam with the kind of hip-hop flourishes you might hear from modern pop curators like Majestic Casual or Kitsune. They'd fit right in with Cautious Clay, who I saw for the second time this year at Stubb's on Saturday during the Rachel Ray party. This wave of pop with a distinct, left-of-center perspective is totally refreshing. You can see for yourself how Dreamer Boy does it when they play at the Belcourt on May 8.

SXSW gets dumped on plenty. It's never fully shaken the tradition of brands parachuting into Austin to absorb cultural capital through osmosis. For a lot of people, it isn't "cool" anymore. But I would argue that the people making those arguments aren't looking further than the glut of venture capital technologists and influencers who filled the void when the McDonaldses of the world scaled back their involvement in the fest, and there's plenty to discover with a little digging. Here's a lightning round of things I saw but haven't mentioned in these posts:

• Durand Jones and the Indications pick up ’60s soul and drive it right into the part of your brain that makes you want to dance. They'll play The Basement East in April.
• DYGL (pronounced "DayGlo") are indie-rockers from Tokyo who sound off-and-on like a jangly, Japanese version of The Strokes.
• CHKBNS (pronounced "cheekbones") from Saint Petersburg, Russia, play compellingly goth-y dream-pop, living in a low, gorgeous drone.
• The Joy Formidable, who play The Basement East on May 1, are having so much fun on stage that you can't help but have fun with them.
• If you're an artist making your first waves in rap and R&B right now, you were probably at SXSW this year. Just look at Dua Saleh, a Sudanese-Minnesotan rapper who dropped her completely mesmerizing debut EP Nūr in January. Or maybe Sneaks, whose lo-fi raps feel perfectly tailored to 24/7 YouTube mix channels.
• Jealous of the Birds are delightfully specific in their lyricism, with singer Naomi Hamilton landing somewhere between Yo La Tengo and Big Thief.

I could keep going. Whether or not SXSW as an institution has the kind of cultural currency it once did is up for debate. But the bands and artists that filled my days at SXSW this year left me feeling excited and curious about what I might hear next, and that's good enough for me.

See our slideshow for more photos.