AUSTIN, Texas -- At dusk of the South by Southwest music festival's opening night, throngs roamed the Sixth Street main drag, darting in and out of clubs, and a sensory overload of music came from all directions.
You could barely hear the unwashed young man picking a banjo at the corner of Sixth and Trinity, but he had a striking ragamuffin look. So a woman approached with a camera, and he nudged his open banjo case in her direction as he played.
"Hey," he shouted as she left without throwing anything in, "I kicked that over there for a reason!"
Yes, there was an art-versus-commerce dynamic to even the unsanctioned parts of South by Southwest, which once again turned Austin into the center of the pop-culture universe. This was the 24th edition, and the "official" numbers - 10,000-plus registrants, 2,000 acts, 76 venues - don't even begin to convey its sprawl. You could probably double those figures because just as many "unofficial" attendees descended on Austin for the party.
In many ways, South by Southwest is a perfect reflection of the music business, which used to be controlled by major labels but long ago decentralized into a vast gatekeeper-free landscape. South by Southwest has had a similar evolution, expanding with companion film and interactive-media conferences. And the music festival has mushroomed into a massive and confusing free-for-all where the music never stops, no badge required. If you can handle chaos and aren't averse to crowds and traffic, Valhalla awaits.
Of course, there were still earnestly titled daytime panel discussions along the lines of "Socialize Your Network: Tech Tips That Rock" and "Green Touring: Stupid, Dumb, Or Best Idea Ever?" But the real daytime action was outside, with renegade buskers plus unofficial shows put on by sponsors including Spin magazine, the Brooklyn Vegan blog and even cooking maven Rachael Ray.
Although that makes South by Southwest an exhausting grind for bands who play a half-dozen or more shows in a few sleep-deprived days, it means attendees have a decent shot at seeing almost everyone somewhere even if they didn't register for the conference. Since Austin in the spring is one of the most appealing places on Earth, South by Southwest has become a popular spring-break destination - Mardi Gras for collegiate hipsters, who showed up with no credentials beyond their own youth and beauty.
Like "Saturday Night Live," South by Southwest isn't quite the career-maker it used to be. But it's still the perfect place for high-profile acts to show off new projects, whether that's a new album ("Broken Bells," a collaboration between DJ/producer Danger Mouse and Shins frontman James Mercer) or even themselves. Courtney Love's new edition of Hole was one of the most anticipated acts on this year's schedule.
While it was impossible to believe you weren't missing out on something big at all times, the week offered plenty of highlights both on and off the grid. These United States, a young group from Kentucky, played rollicking garage rock that didn't reinvent the wheel but still made big fun out of rolling it around.
R&B singer Sharon Jones, a sparkplug dynamo in an optic yellow dress, showed the youngsters a thing or two about kinetic stage presence - singing in a soulful wail while demonstrating The Boogaloo, Pony, Tighten-Up, Funky Chicken and other dance moves as her band the Dap Kings laid out turn-on-a-dime funk grooves.
Courtney keeps rocking
Hole's much-anticipated set at the Spin party found that band's controversial leader playing to type by opening with "Pretty on the Inside" and segueing into a cover of the Rolling Stones' "Sympathy for the Devil." It was raw meat for those who'd come to gawk, and Love obliged with plenty of blue-language rants. When she shut up and sang, her murmur-to-a-yowl shriek was as unsettling as ever.
"I'd stage-dive," the 45-year-old Love primly announced as she took a theatrical bow, "but I'm far too elderly."
Aside from a few old songs from Hole's 1994 landmark "Live Through This," the set's main agenda was Hole's upcoming album. "Nobody's Daughter" is due out next month and Love believes it's going to be enormous - especially "Honey," a grim song about her late husband Kurt Cobain ("Did I not love you enough to save you from your doom?").
"That song is going to be on the radio so [expletive] much," Love promised after it faded out. "You're going to be, 'Oh my God, I was there the day that Hole played 'Honey.'"
We'll see.
