and seething guitar of the Velvet
Underground's drones,
coupled with ominous incantations with echoes of
Jim Morrison. The Besnard Lakes, from Montreal, drew on a more benevolent 1960s sound: the
expansive, almost orchestral buildups of Brian Wilson and the Beatles' "Hey Jude," so that songs with
titles like "Devastation" and "Disaster” swelled into reassuring anthems.
Tokyo Police Club, a Canadian band whose oldest member is 21, reached back to the terse, kinetic
structures of post-punk bands from the late 1970s like Wire and the Cure, while the Wombats, from
Liverpool, merged punk-speed, guitar-charged pop, usually about love gone awry, with the oohs and ahs
of Beach Boys harmony.
But there were also new twists on past styles. Maps & Atlases, from Chicago, packed the intricacies of
progressive rock into much shorter attention spans. Black Moth Super Rainbow, from Pittsburgh, played
pulsating, mesmerizing songs on vintage keyboards, with vocals filtered electronically through a vocoder,
while animated videos unfurled in neo-psychedelic splendor overhead. Luminous Orange, from
Yokohama, Japan, swerved between sunny pop melodies and unlikely but invigorating shifts of key and
tempo. Illinois, a band from Pennsylvania, flaunted a banjo in rowdy songs that mingled Merseybeat rock,
skiffle and punky absurdism.
This year SXSW had a stronger hip-hop presence, recognizing both the new prominence of Texas hip-hop
- there was a packed 1 a.m. set by Devin the Dude, from Houston, a few days before the release of his new
album - and hip-hop's long success as a street-level, do-it-yourself phenomenon. Public Enemy, which
revolutionized hip-hop in the 1990s, played one of the festival's free amphitheater shows, leading an
audience of thousands in chants against President Bush.
In a music business that can no longer center itself on sales of hit CDs, even for the lucky few that have
them, SXSW has thrived as musicians piece together careers in other ways: from touring, from selling
their own music online, from licensing their songs to movies or advertisers. If the festival has an overall
message, it's that musicians need to build their own support systems and hustle for themselves. For most
musicians, performing rather than recording will be the bulk of a career, and with six sets a night in more
than 60 clubs - along with countless affiliated and unaffiliated daytime and late-night shows - SXSW
prizes live performances above all.
And is also a festival that celebrates perseverance as much as trendiness. At the Convention Center
longtime musicians – Pete Townshend of the Who, Emmylou Harris, the Memphis soul mainstay Booker
T. Jones, the Brazilian songwriter and minister of culture Gilberto Gil – spoke about careers, memories,
ideas and inspiration. (Then Mr. Townshend went out and jammed as a surprise guest in the clubs.)
There were reunions of the Stooges, the Buzzcocks, the Saints and Booker T. and the M.G.'s. Mary Weiss,
the lead singer of the Shangri-La's, was promoting a new album, and Stax Records celebrated its 50th
anniversary with appearances by Isaac Hayes and William Bell. There was also a set by Jandek, the
pseudonymous Texas who has released 49 albums on his own label since 1978 and didn't perform in
public until 2004 - perhaps the most independent musician in a festival devoted to self-sufficiency.
Ms. Stern had another song that summed up South by Southwest's lessons: "Keep on!" she sang as her
guitar lines ricocheted everywhere. “Keep at it!"
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