Memories are made of these

There's good reasons why festivals make for such life-enduring memories. Number one is the sheer choice of events. Number two is the outright unpredictability of it all. Number three is the people you share the experience with. South By South West has been another such festival for me.



Friday started out in classic festival fashion, hungover, at a strange location with complete certainty about how I came to be there. Having got home, got myself together and headed back downtown for yet more activities. The decision was made to blow off movies for the day and seek out whatever music was on for free. I had already seen that Island Records were hosting a free gig at Bourbon Rocks with The Fratellis, so that seemed as good a place as any to get the day started - or the mid-afternoon at least.

Chris Tilly and I made our way down and found Malcolm and Thea (of the Lost In Woonsocket team) already at the venue. Chris didn't stay, there was a lot of other things going on, so I stayed with Thea and Malcolm, got a free beer of a lovely Miller Lite girl and waited for the next band to come on, The Rumble Strips. Hailing out of Devonshire, The Rumble Strips are apparently on the up, although I've never heard of them. To my surprise I really enjoyed these guys, but then again I do have a predilection for anything with even a vague big band sound. A five piece band, The Rumble Strips include the usual lead singer/guitarist, drummer and bassist - but as an added bonus their number also include a trumpeter/pianist and a saxophonist (btw the way, you can tell why I'm a film journo and not a music journo right now yeah?). Anyway, these guys are a lot of fun, really upbeat and I will definitely be looking them up in the future.



Next up The Fratellis. Now I'd missed the Scottish lads at Leeds Festival last summer and Kay had banged on and on about them. Of course I'd heard them plenty since, but I remained to be convinced that they were really anything new to shout about. Having seen them play this gig at SXSW I was a little more sold on them, though they still invoke a degree of apathy from me. The crowd really picked up and the trio rocked out their best known tracks 'Henrietta', 'Flathead' and 'Creepin Up The Downstairs'. There's a total streak of Scottish fun-loving folkishness that perferates their sound and that I love. But I can't get what Athina and Tristan said to me out of my head, that their a poor man's Arctic Monkey's. Either which way, I let the music carry me away as another free Miller Lite from the lovely Miller Lite girl lightens my spirit.




What happened from here on out is so strange that I look back with surreal bafflement. Chris Tilly calls and tells me to get my ass to Guadalupe and 6th cos The Pipettes are Djing to an empty room except for him and Tilly and the Wall. Making a quick dash to Chris' location I arrive to find the man with the biggest smile on his face and a large vodka and orange in his hand. "Let's just get really pissed, dance with Tilly and the Wall and have a really good time" suggests a deliriously happy Chris. Who the hell am I to argue? After all Chris was the one who only 3 hours early had been suffering with a virus that would soon knock my ass on the floor in the coming days.

The Pipettes just finished as I arrived only for the entire Tilly and the Wall band to take to the DJ booth and start busting out the most random selection of tunes imaginable. Chris starts pouring vodka tonics down my throat with little argument from myself. Before very long I know I'm pretty tipsy and busting out my dancefloor moves with only Chris Tilly, a couple of similarly intoxicated folks and...well, Tilly and the Wall. At every turn I see Chris talking to another member of the band, introducing me to the band, taking pictures of the band. It's hilarious. Weird, but totally hilarious. I'm feel like somehow I've accidently stumbled into Chris Tilly own private wet dream. It's ok though, it can't be much different to falling into an episode of the Smurfs: an out-of-body experience in which you never feel anything but safe. I'm in Tillyland now, and there's no leaving it.







Feeling a definite need to step out of the madness for a moment I decide I need to step outside for a breather. As I sit down on the kerb outside I realise that Becky from The Pipettes is right by and me a decide to strike up a conversation with her. I really like The Pipettes so this is a bit of a buzz. Their from Brighton, so this seems like as good a place as any to start a conversation given my own history with the little town on the sea. Anyway, she's really cool and we blether away about nothing in particular until Rose (moody Pipette) comes over and takes her away to the VIP room. What no invite? I hear you ask. I know...and I thought I'd played this one rather cool.

Anyways, after a time Chris Shea appears on the scene and can't stop smiley at the baffling scenario we are describing and that which he can see with his own eyes. But we've got other places to be, so off we set across the river for the open air Public Enemy concert on Town Lake. Now if you had told me 18 years ago when I bought my first single, 'Don't believe the hype' from It Takes A Nation Of Millions To Hold Us Back, that I would ever get to see them in concert, much less that they'd still be alive, I would have thought you a crazy man. But here I was, jumping up and down in a huge field to the rhythms of Chuck D and Flavor Flav. The only thing missing was Teminator X, but he didn't go without note by main man Chuck D. And more so it was Flavor Flav's birthday.

Now this is the stuff memories are made of. It was sooo good I had goodpimples as they bust out an array of classic tunes, in between some a couple of new tracks including a seriously anti-Iraq song, which I wish I knew the name of. It was something to be in the home state of the US President as Public Enemy yelled out for call and response, "fuck George Bush, fuck Dick Cheney, fuck Tony Blair, fuck Condalezza." Oh my god it was unreal. I kept looking at the other guys who had equally stupid grins on their faces (though Chris Tilly's may have been residual from earlier). Needless to say I will never forget seeing Public Enemy in a field in Austin. If I have to come home tomorrow it will have all been worth it.



Taking our leave of Chuck D and co, Chris Shea, Chris Tilly and myself made a sharpish return across the river and headed directly to La Zona Rosa, the location of many of my misadventures these passed days. We arrive for something I've been looking to since I first heard hear lavish sound, an uninterrupted hour of Amy Winehouse stealing my soul.

Now first of all I gotta say this...Dermot O'Learly is hosting the gig? That's somehow rather surreal and in perfect keeping with the days developments.

Anyways, Amy comes out. She's nervous, she's charming, she's gorgeous. I don't know what it is about that girl, but she is the type who oozes sex appeal. I have to be honest things got off to a dicky start when in an attempt to get closer to the action I got a terribly hard time from this English woman who had a go at me for standing in front of her while Chris Shea stood back looking at me wondering why I was making a fuss while grinning from cheek to cheek at my predicament. In the end I got embarrassed into retreat and, with my tail between my legs, I backed down, but this wasn't gonna stop my enjoyment of the gig - although my ego was a little bruised. Perhaps though this was the perhaps emotional place to begin a Amy Winehouse set. Love me Amy...

Trust me, Amy Winehouse is so much better live then even the heady heights of her recorded, studio-perfected work. I know these comparisons have been written by people far more knowledgeable on such matter than I, but that she reminds me so much of Nina Simone and Billie Holiday is so striking. I love every minute of her performance, right up to her confession of being a bit pissed before her band guide her into 'Rehab' which brings the house down and later 'Back to Black' which is easily my favourite heart-breaker of a song right now. I'm so smitten with this girl, I can't wait to see her evolve and grew into one of the greats.





After the Amy Winehouse gig, the two Chris's dash off to Stubbs Bar BQ while I run off to meet Travis to see MSTRKRFT. It was ok, but way too trancy for my likely. The John Digweed comes on and I can't take anymore. It was a cool little electro interlude, but way too much Trance. Afterwards I run into Chris Tilly, Thea, Malcolm, Ashley (also of Woonsocket) and Shea's friend Deb. We enjoy a couple of final drinks before last orders are called and we head our separate way. Thea and Malcolm are leaving the next day and suggest going back to their hotel, the Hyatt no less, for some hot tub action. In the spirit of the weekend we rock on, even Chris Tilly who is starting to really struggle with this virus - what can I say? I'm a wonderful influence on people...



It was sad to say goodbye to Malcolm and Thea, they had been festival highlights for me, seemingly ever present where ever we were. Though I secretly suspected Chris and Thea were stalking one another. I guess I have more festival stories than these. So much more in fact. The final Saturday I took really ill, my fault for getting in a jacuzzi at 3 in the morning. I could tell you about the much hyped VICE magazine party we went to at an old masonic lodge but was shut down after a huge concrete balcony collapsed with me and Chris only 10-feet from being crushed:





Or I could tell you about the party in the Enchanted Forest that we walked to with Trav and Mary as a back up and where Trav seemed to disappear into a K hole:





Instead I'm gonna take a breather and let this be the end of my South By South West 2007 blogging record. I hope I've done it any level of justice. It really has been a experience riddled with everlasting moments, from the movies to the parties, from the music to the people and, of course, Paul Rudd. Thank you for the memories SXSW...