PS I Love You are a two-man wrecking crew, straight out of Ontario. At a time when that kind of restrained, ’90s guitar band thing is having yet another moment, PS I Love You are able to melt faces and write great pop songs at the same time. We caught up with guitarist and vocalist Paul Saulnier for a chat in the middle of their grueling SXSW schedule.

Zach Kelly: There are a lot of guitar bands this year at SXSW, and I think there has been a resurgence in interest in guitar bands, but it’s mostly that jangly kind of pop sound. You stand out because your style of playing is more forceful. Has that translated?

Paul Saulnier: I mean, I like jangly guitar pop a lot. I try to write jangly guitar pop songs, but what comes out is a much more expressive… I don’t know. Crazy, spastic guitar playing.

ZK: When did you start playing?

PS: I started when I was nine. Yeah, so a long time.

ZK: When did you get good? Or at least by your standards.

PS: Uh, maybe around 14 or 15? Those were the years when I started going out to bars and playing with blues bands.

ZK: Oh, so you have kind of a blues background?

PS: I always wanted to be like Jimi Hendrix, so I would go jam with bands and try to play solos like him. I sort of grew out of that, though.

ZK: Well to be honest, I can still here that kind of thing in your music. I don’t know how to put it. It sort of has that untucked wildness about it.

PS: I actually try to restrain that a little bit [laughs]. Because I feel like if I didn’t restrain it at all, it would just be like, too much. And I don’t think people would dig it as much. Guitar soloing, honestly, I think there’s only so much of that people can handle who aren’t guitar nerds already? And it’s not like I’m trying to pander, but I know what I like in music, and what I like sort of translates into what I do a little.

ZK: Do you consider yourself a person who really likes guitar nerd music? Do you geek out on stuff?

PS: I do geek out on stuff, a lot. I’m the guy waiting for the band after the show to ask them what kind of guitar pedals they use and stuff like that. Whenever I go to see Sonic Youth, I’m leaning over the stage taking photos of their pedals. I’m really interested in the way electric guitar players make their sounds. Yeah, I guess you could call it geeking out.

ZK: So moving on to SXSW, what’s the week been like for you guys?

PS: The week has been pretty inconsistent [laughs]. We’ve had a lot of really good shows and a lot of really bad shows. I’m learning that it’s kind of what it’s all about. Like, you’re never gonna get the sound you want, and you’re gonna be rushed. I mean, we play eight shows, and we can do that okay, it’s just a different kind of pace than we’re used to.

ZK: Would you blame that on technical problems or venue problems, or were there nights where it just didn’t happen for you?

PS: I think it was more technical problems. I’ve had a lot of gear malfunctions. Like mysterious gear malfunctions.

ZK: That’s like a big thing at SXSW. There are ghosts that get into the machines, apparently. And everyone’s s—- goes haywire.

PS: I play a pedal bass organ with my right foot on the stage, and sometimes it doesn’t make sound. Sometimes it does. And I’ve had it repaired twice this week! And today it was working, but the notes weren’t sustaining, so I kinda messed up a bunch of the songs. But yeah, I think there’s definitely a ghost. And when that thing is working perfectly, my guitar will cut out mysteriously. I think that’s the ultimate challenge of South By, if you keep soldiering on and playing your music for people that want to hear it…

ZK: You’ll get the result you want.

PS: I’m friends with a lot of people in bands here, and that’s sort of the consensus. It’s like you’re fighting a battle to play shows for people. And that’s kind of cool, in a way. And there are so many people here for the music, it’s a worthwhile battle, for sure.

—Zach Kelly
—Photo by Stephanie Carranza

Billboard’s showcase last night at Buffalo Billiards seemed sure to deliver. Never mind that the pool hall chain has more in common with an Applebee’s than a music venue proper, the space was surprisingly cool, and with two of the most exciting rappers around — prolific new-school weed-rap progenitor Curren$y and the virally beloved Southerner Big K.R.I.T. And, of course, there was the big draw of the night (and unquestionably one of the biggest draws at SXSW all week), Odd Future Wolf Gang Kill Them All, the now infamous teenaged LA-based rap collective.

Curren$y’s set was mostly a mixed bag — supported by a DJ and four perma-stoned weed carriers, Curren$y was definitely feeling himself out there. Rapping dexterously and dropping the beat for long a cappella stretches, the fans up front dutifully rapped his lyrics back at him every time he pointed the mic in the crowd’s direction (“I ain’t gotta do s—-!” he laughed). But the sound just wasn’t up to snuff for that kind of thing, with his stereophonic, THC-blown lushness remaining absent on even some of the stronger songs, like the great “Audio Dope II”.

Whether or not Curren$y noticed how muffled everything sounded at Buffalo Billiards is anyone’s guess, but Big K.R.I.T. sure as hell didn’t. Looking svelte while attacking the stage, K.R.I.T. owned his short, sweet set. Luckily, some of those sound issues were resolved when K.R.I.T. brought out a proper band — an asset that more than a few hip-hop acts could’ve benefitted from this week.

And finally, Odd Future’s penultimate SXSW appearance. The buzz had been positive all week — the shows had been vulgar, vile, hormonal and hilarious, much like the outfit’s musical output. There’s no question that Odd Future are shaking things up, thumbing their nose at everyone that isn’t a proven diehard (“If you don’t know the words, you stupid as f—-“, Hodgy Beats offered at one point). Word of their Fader Fort appearance spread fast — speaker climbing, bottle hurling and general mayhem had ensued, taking the band’s punk rock ethos to a whole new level. As I waited at the bar for the band to go on, I struck up a conversation with an Irish record store owner. “As far as the spectacle of it is concerned,” he told me, “you won’t see anything this week that compares.”

What followed was a spectacle, but in the form of a meltdown. “Shut the f—- up!” yelled ski-masked ringleader Tyler, the Creator as he roared on stage with the rest of his crew. Opening with the Hodgy Beats trade-off “Sandwiches”, it seemed as if Odd Future were primed to leave Austin with another proud notch on their belt. But Tyler seemed to think differently. “I broke a n—-’s nose [earlier], and I come to this s—-? This is whack so far.”

Odd Future require a lot of energy from their audience, and it seemed as if the deafening “Wolf Gang” chants and middle fingers just weren’t cutting it. Though Tyler’s the one to watch, Hodgy Beats — who, up until now, has been a work in progress — commanded the audience with an almost domineering intensity while Tyler goofed off, goose-stepping on a high speaker. But after finishing Tyler’s stunning new single “Yonkers” (rapped through a wolf mask), the band had had enough. “F—- Billboard, this s—- is wack,” Tyler barked, throwing up a middle finger to the crowd (this time it was less of a youthful, anti-authoritarian expression. Something in his eyes made you feel as if Tyler really meant this one).

And that was it. Three songs. At first, the bewildered crowd assumed it was a tease, but once the house music kicked in, it was clear that they weren’t coming back. A few minutes later, Tyler tweeted, “Billboard Is Cool. That Show Was Stupid. Thanks To The Fans And N——s That Was There In The Front. Wasn’t Billboards Fault, F—- THAT CLUB”. Whatever the issue was is unclear, and it probably doesn’t matter. Those expecting a perfectly Odd Futurian moment got one. If Odd Future has a mantra, it’s most certainly “F—- you”. Contrarian and pulsing with post-adolescent ire, it’s a big part of the group’s magnetic appeal. But last night at Buffalo Billiards, you can believe that the sentiment from the audience was “F—- you, too”.

—Zach Kelly
—Photo via Los Angeles Times

LIZ PHAIR (RE)INTROUDUCES HERSELF TO PEREZ HILTON’S SXSW PARTY

Liz Phair arrived onstage at Perez Hilton’s coveted “One Night in Austin” party at the W Hotel Saturday night in what looked to be an Emilio Pucci one-sleeve minidress and a radiant head of blonde hair, looking considerably younger than 43 in spite of the unflattering strobe lights all around her.

The venue really suggested nightclub, and appropriately, Phair’s set was preempted by a DJ duo who interpreted club-friendly hits by Sia, Lady Gaga, MGMT and the like with a couple of decks, a laptop, and a violin, of all things. It was hard to top the sheer novelty of this act, especially when Phair’s status among the audience was murky enough to prompt Perez to come onstage and explain who she was.

“I don’t know how many of you know about Liz…,” was part of his introduction; he then called her a “rock icon,” an impressive designation, coming from the queen of celebrity gossip.

Not many people were singing along with Phair, who was joined by a guitarist, bassist and drummer, and played six songs from across her sizable discography, including oldie “Flower,” middle-period “Polyester Bride” and newer song “Extraordinary.” It made those who were singing along wonder who exactly people were there to see, if not this rock icon. The night did feature some solid talents later, including Sweden’s Oh Land, but the draw seemed mostly to be about Perez and his bizarre but increasingly legitimate cred as a party organizer and curator of pop music.

Phair invited a probably-drunk fan up onstage to sing backup on “Flower,” which requires knowing all the words to “Flower,” which this guy definitely didn’t. Meanwhile, thirty-something ladies raised on Phair’s subversively sexual lyrics belted out all the words to this song and the rest of the set list from the pit below.

For everyone else, the performance was hopefully a reminder that music including Phair’s is and always will be around, waiting to be discovered by newbies. And for Phair, who was well-rehearsed and seemed to be thoroughly enjoying herself, the event was ideally a kick in the pants: we need an artist like Liz Phair around now more than ever, even if half of us don’t even know we do.

—Liz Colville

KURT VILE BELIES HIS NAME AND AGE AT NPR SHOWCASE

Kurt Vile had the unfortunate experience of getting his bag of pedals stolen the night before his Saturday afternoon set at Austin’s Auditorium Shores Stage, a Coachella-like outdoor venue featuring numerous vendors distracting music fans by selling food and in some cases giving it away, and where pleasant music like Vile’s traveled across downtown Austin in the wind. Without these tools, the set was presumably quite different from his performances earlier in the week, forcing more diversity on a week of repetition that probably gets old for a lot of artists.

Vile and his Violators, comprising a guitarist, bassist and experienced older drummer, made do without the special effects for this event, which was organized by NPR. The loss of this gadgets meant Vile stuck mostly to his straightforward, melodic tunes and his acoustic guitar, which could barely be heard above his buzzing, wide-ranging voice.

Vile, whose name suggests a different kind of stage presence than the professional, composed one he actually possesses, somehow makes songs about getting drunk sound tasteful and even romantic. Like Richard Ashcroft in prime Verve days, Vile’s voice has a commanding presence without him even having to try. To top it off, sign language interpreters took turns interpreting Vile’s songs off to the side of the stage, which was an interesting way to experience the music — even if you didn’t know sign language, it was easy to catch on to the signs for drinking, falling down, hanging out with friends, and so on.

The band members, clad in old t-shirts, jeans and cords, look ridiculously young, and they are (apart from the drummer). Hiding behind all that hair and only briefly letting loose for an electric guitar solo at the very end of the set, Vile came across as a kind of an introspective, guitar-playing bard, as well as one of the most talented musicians on offer right now. His music is steeped in ’70s rock, but he makes it look so easy to find — and keep finding — something new to say in a genre full of imitation.

—Liz Colville

MAN MAN’S HONUS HONUS ON PUTTING ON PANTS AND NEW ALBUM, LIFE FANTASTIC

Take a quick walk down East 6th Street here in Austin during SXSW, and you’re bound to see one of those “Keep Austin Weird” t-shirts walk past you. For a city that prides itself on so being out-there, this festival is, in many ways, burdened with the responsibility of making sure the weirdos bring it. Here at the 25th SXSW, we had the good luck to welcome back one of the great weird bands of the past few years, Philadelphia’s own Man Man. Their return was a highlight for freak flag wavers, with the band bringing back their punchy, carnivalesque music to a receptive audience at the Auditorium Shores stage on Saturday. We talked to frontman Ryan Kattner (aka Honus Honus) earlier in the day about his stay at the HP mobile park with his his new side-project Mister Heavenly (which features Islands’ Nick Diamonds, Modest Mouse’s Joe Plummer and actor Michael Cera— all of whom crashed at the park this week), and the highly anticipated new Man Man record, Life Fantastic.

Zach Kelly: So you’ve been here all week staying at the HP mobile park. It’s kinda surreal. What’d you think?

Ryan Kattner: I love it, it’s the most fun I’ve ever had at South By. Unfortunately, it means that I didn’t go to bed until 6AM every night. And I’m already an insomniac who average three hours of sleep at the most, so I’m averaging about two hours of sleep. I took some yellow pills last night and that kind of knocked me out.

ZK: Oh good. So you’ve mostly been doing shows here as Mister Heavenly, how did it go for the most part?

RK: We did like eight shows, so that was pretty exhausting. But it went really well.

ZK: Anything special happen at any of them?

RK: Not particularly [laughs]. They were a lot of fun, and it’s kind of a different role for me where I don’t have to sing the whole time, so it makes things a little easier. Having Nick sing half the songs makes it a little less exhausting. And I wear pants. I haven’t worn pants on stage in years.

ZK: Speaking of not wearing pants, Man Man are playing at the Auditorium Shores stage during SXSW. Are we going to get to hear some stuff from the new Man Man record?

RK: Yeah, we’re going to try and play a lot of new stuff. It’s a shorter set so… we just kind of come out of the gates.

ZK: When was the last time you guys played together live?

RK: It was at the end of December, around New Year’s. We did five shows with Gogol Bordello. So it’s been a while.

ZK: Are you excited for this new record to come out? What can people expect?

RK: I’m psyched about it. I want people to be open to it. I think it’s the best record we’ve ever made. It’s really beautiful. It still has a little bit of our chaotic side in it. But we really poured a lot of ourselves into it and for it to just be like, “Arrrgghhhhh! Man Man!”, I think that’s selling itself short. I’d be kind of offended if that’s how it goes. I just felt like we spent a lot of time on it. It took a long time to pull together.

—Zach Kelly
—  Photos by Chris Kitahara

Of all the muggy sweat dens in Austin, Klub Krucial might have been the muggiest of them all Friday night. I rolled into the the Gorilla vs. Bear and Mexican Summer curated showcase during Tamaryn (think Zola Jesus if Zola Jesus was boring), and was shocked to find out they didn’t have a fog machine running for the entirety of their set — it was the humidity itself that had formed a rainforest-like mist that only the Predator could survive in.

But I was beyond glad I stuck it out to see the terrific Ford & Lopatin (formerly known as Games), who delivered one of the best sets I’ve seen here at SXSW. Joel Ford (of Tigercity) and Daniel Lopatin (better known as synth guru Oneohtrix Point Never) are collage masters of the highest order, fostering movement-forward assemblages that bang to body-rocking maximums. Though the band’s EP That We Can Play possessed more of an experimental edge, Ford & Lopatin’s MO last night was to deliver the stone cold jams, nothing more.

Props to whoever handled the projections, too. Across the long wall behind the stage were three separate projectors unspooling some wild images, which imparted a futuristic feel to the evening. Ford & Lopatin, putting their noses to the grindstone, delivered heady, groove-stuffed combinations of krautrock, funk, electro, R&B and more into their tight, wily set. Behind a plastic picnic table and entangled in more chords than I’ve ever seen at a live show, it’s unclear as to how these guys pulled off such an impressive set. Aside from the fact that the sound in Klub Krucial was excellent, I’m just going to have to chalk this one up to magic and leave it at that.

It was kind of a shame that more people weren’t dancing, but Ford & Lopatin are a rare electronic group in the fact that they’re a lot of fun to watch — constantly in each other’s spaces, octopus-ing around with their equipment in a way that couldn’t possibly produce music that clean and seamless. I immediately felt bad about bitching about the temperature inside after about two songs. This is some seriously hot music, and should be enjoyed in a congruous atmosphere.

—Zach Kelly

Wild Flag conjured a packed house of tired concertgoers back to life and into a rock and roll frenzy at the Parish Friday night, despite being a little worn down themselves.
“What day is it? East Sixth Street is a mind eraser,” guitarist and vocalist Carrie Brownstein quipped before starting in with her monster riffs, played with playful punk rock swagger. Appropriating moves used by iconic dude-rockers like Jimmy Page and Iggy Pop, Brownstein kicked, thrusted, and headbanged her way through a set of sprawling yet tight anthems, reveling in this bombastic male tradition while subtly parodying it. At several points in the set, Brownstein and co-guitarist and vocalist Mary Timony took simultaneous solos, which struck me as the ultimate female re-working
of the form. Rather than wanking her axe in such a manner that was pleasing only to her, each woman fed off the other, producing an intoxicating shared energy. As Janet Weiss pounded her drums like an uncommonly skilled cavewoman, Brownstein and Timony crossed swords, pushed each other over, writhed on the ground, made incredible rock face, and crackled.

In an interview I did with the group earlier that day, we’d talked about how younger bands seem afraid to really let go, while Wild Flag does everything in their power to live up to their name. That these four women are able to put on great performances without taking themselves too seriously is borne of years of confidence-building experience. Not surprising, considering Brownstein created an entire TV show devoted to mocking that same indie culture in which she participates. Wild Flag is not for the cross-armed, text messaging  concert-goer.

“I’m a racehorse, so put your money on me,” Brownstein belted repeatedly during the slow-building climax to one of the set’s best songs. She didn’t have to tell us twice.

—Jamie Peck
—Illustration by Debbie Allen

CROWD OF DESPARATE YOUTH POWERS THROUGH AT TV ON THE RADIO

Everyone looked tired at the truncated TV on the Radio set of mostly new songs that closed Spin’s day-time showcase. Doug Brod, Spin’s editor, automatically rolled off a list of sponsors; the case of Comedy Central’s “Workaholics” cracked a few lazy jokes (“Hey everybody, how sweaty are your ball sacks?”); when the band sauntered onstage, Tunde Adebimpe offered a reserved, “Hi Austin. Everyone having an alright day?”

This was like SXSW’s seventh-inning stretch, TV on the Radio the “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” to get everyone on their feet again. The energy never quite clicked.

This isn’t to say the band didn’t play their asses off — they always do — but I sensed tension, like each member’s mind was drifting toward something else. Adebimpe never once glanced at the ever-miraculously bearded Kyp Malone as they slid into a rhythm for “Young Liars,” the opener, everyone off in their own world. “Dancing Choose” from Dear Science was nothing more than scattered noise. The band sounded more like they were competing against each other than playing together.

“Staring at the Sun” evaporated the haze of exhaustion and distraction out of nothing more than sheer force of will. Malone’s impossibly perfect falsetto melted into Adebimpe’s more biting tenor and it sounded like one person singing, the band finally in synch. The audience tried their best, dancing and jumping in a way that only a collection of people trying to gather their second (or third or fourth) wind can.

“Stay hydrated,” Adebimpe told them when the song was finished. “Please stay hydrated.”

—Michael H. Miller

Austin gay club Kiss & Fly was sure a strange place to see Alex Zhang Hungtai, who records ’50s croon-pop by way of suicide as Dirty Beaches. With a sound suited for something like, say, a malt shoppe at the end of the world, Kiss & Fly (which has glittery butterflies and bird cages hanging from its rafters) looked like it had just finished shooting an episode of My Super Sweet 16. But Hungtai does his thing in such a captivating fashion, and is so very much in his own little world on stage, the result is eerily transfixing.

Dressed in a white t-shirt with his black hair slicked back, Hungtai looks like a very bad boy in a very old drag race movie. With his guitar hanging from him effortlessly (used mostly to introduce huge swaths of noise into his songs), he sung into his mic with such pointed passion, he dropped to his knees at one point.

Hungtai’s best songs (“Sweet 17”, “True Blue”, “Lord Knows Best”) sounded very close to the recordings (featured on his excellent Badlands EP), which isn’t an easy trick to pull off considering how insular his music is. But a lot of that was translated in Hungtai’s performance, which seems so disassociated with the audience that it was as if we were watching him from behind glass. And that’s no slight— part of the great appeal of Dirty Beaches is watching Hungtai get lost in himself, and it encourages you to do the same.

That is, if you aren’t too busy just staring at the guy. Almost strikingly handsome, Hungtai was really getting to the ladies in the joint, so much so that when he pulled out a comb and slicked back his greased hair, a few girls in the front actually shrieked. Loudly. Dirty Beaches can be considered a work in progress, but you wouldn’t know it after last night’s performance. Catching Dirty Beaches will certainly be on a great many people’s lists of favorite things they saw at SXSW. The list of dudes who lost their girlfriends to Hungtai in the process is a different story.

—Zach Kelly

Photo by Stephanie Carranza

In regards to electronic music, SXSW 2011 was an embarrassment of riches. And for those of you looking to move, Denver, Colorado’s Travis Edegey, who records as Pictureplane, is the guy you need to see. We had a chance to talk with Egedy about how he gets it done.

Zach Kelly: Since the last couple times I’ve seen you, you seem a lot more polished. As an electronic musician, how do work on that? How do you get better?

Travis Egedy: Working on it. It’s touring, you know.

ZK: So it mostly comes from live stuff?

TE: Yeah. I don’t practice too much, honestly. A lot of my practice is performance, playing in front of people. I’ll work on songs and make sure I know how to do it live and stuff, but me really figuring out the song is playing it live, seeing what works best. Each time is different, I do a lot of improv when I play live.

ZK: Is that how new stuff comes to you? Doing it live?

TE: Not really, that’s a whole different process of me tinkering around in my bedroom, you know, just making songs by myself. But yeah, it’s just touring I guess. Feeling more confident. Confidence is a big part of it. Because it’s just me on stage, it’s sort of like: I own that s—- or I don’t, you know? And if you’re timid on stage or something, the audience feels that and it makes for an awkward experience.

ZK: I’ve noticed that you’re doing more vocal stuff. Have you made a conscious push to do more of that?

TE: On my new album, I’m singing a lot more on it, which is crazy. I always sort of felt that it was sort of a weak point of mine. I’m not a vocalist necessarily, but I think I’m becoming one. Or at least flirting with that. I like singing.

ZK: How do you prep for that?

TE: No prep for that either. I’m not a prep kind of guy [laughs]. I just wing it. I just dive head in, and that’s it.

ZK: You usually perform with projections. How important do you think that is in terms of the music you do?

TE: Well it’s not necessarily projections that I work with, it’s just sort of a visual aspect. I went to school for fine art and I’m a visual artist also. That’s a big part of how I approach music. To me, it’s like a performance art kind of thing that I’m doing. I’m a really visual person too, so if I can incorporate that somehow into a live context, it’s good.

ZK: Do you do any of your own projections?

TE: Not really, no. I prefer to work with someone who does projections. I don’t really do projection stuff necessarily.

ZK: You ever consider doing some of your own?

TE: Of course I need a projector and stuff, I just don’t have one…

ZK: I meant your own visuals.

TE: Yeah! That would be dope. I don’t know how though, that’s the thing. It’s all programs that I don’t know how to use.

ZK: So how’s the next record coming along?

TE: It’s done! It’s going to come out in June. I’m excited, I think it’s the best work I’ve ever done.

ZK: How is different than [Pictureplane’s debut album] Dark Rift?

TE: It’s just more full, more polished. There are some real genuine pop-dance songs. I wanted it to be club ready. Dark Rift, it was getting there. It’s a continuation of what I was doing on Dark Rift. It’s very similar, just better.

ZK: Sort of more pop conscious, I guess. I’ve noticed some ’90s house touchstones you’re working with now.

TE: Totally. I’d say it’s pretty R&B influenced too, a lot of vocal samples all over it. I did a song with Zola Jesus that’s really cool.

—Zach Kelly

Photo via Rcrdlbl