3/13/03
8:00 pm
White Cowbell Oklahoma @ Red Eyed Fly
If last night's activities explored the current state of underground pop music, tonight's travels are all about the Rock. The Red Eyed Fly played host to the ten-person strong White Cowbell Oklahoma, who hail from Toronto physically but Jacksonville, Florida, spiritually. The band played straight-up Southern boogie rock, with touches of gospel and country, no irony and plenty of guitar solos. A drummer, bassist and organist were joined by four guitarists, three singers and a MC/sales manager who also whacked the heck out of the cowbell in the band's name. There were, of course, cowboy hats and mustaches all 'round. With his high kicks and cocky glare, Male Singer #1 came off as James Brown trapped in Ronnie Van Zant's body, while the full-figured black chick lent her gospel pipes as harmonies and occasional duets, as well as shaking her moneymaker. As if that (and songs with titles like "Shot a Gamblin' Man," "Put the South in Your Mouth" and "This Cracker's Got the Blues") wasn't enough, the group added fire-breathing, chainsawing a Hello Kitty piñata (though the chainsaw wouldn't cooperate and it had to be beaten all to fuck instead), buck-and-wing dancing through the crowd and a stripper. That's right, a stripper appeared on-stage during one of the tunes; her presence caused some confusion in the audience, as no one believed she'd really do it until her nipples were there for all to see. (A pair of bikini-cut jean shorts preserved what little modesty she had left.) In other words, what most bands would consider over the top is merely the foundation for this group. It would be just a novelty act if the songs didn't hold up; fortunately, they do. Nothing like starting off one's evening with pure spectacle.

9:00 pm
All Night @ Room 710
Due to other commitments, I was unable to fully partake of the joys of the Tee Pee Records showcase, but I was determined to fit in at least a couple of their bands. The straightforwardly rockin' All Night was quite the contrast to White Cowbell Oklahoma's elaborate shtick. The North Carolina quartet crossbreed the Rolling Stones with Lynyrd Skynyrd, and its lack of pretension to anything other that having a guitar-riffing, tub-thumping good time keeps its creeping Bad Company tendencies (mostly) at bay. Consistent problems with bass drum pedals (if drummer Neckbone keeps this up, no one will ever lend him equipment again) barely hampered the band at all, which is a testament to its momentum and enthusiasm. Though the set drew mostly from its self-titled album with songs like "So Long" and "Come On Baby," the most impressive cuts were the new tunes, which emphasized the Southern boogie side of the band's personality without transforming it into a Molly Hatchet clone. All Night makes classic rock that doesn't forget the roll.

10:00 pm
The Forty Fives @ Emo's
The buzz band of the night was New Zealand's D4, on at 11:00, so in an attempt to keep from being shut out of a capacity club, I went to see the act on-stage right beforehand. I'd seen Atlanta's Forty Fives before and knew what to expect: a high-energy distillation of all the better bands on the Nuggets compilations. The quartet was doing the neo-garage thing long before the pseudo-movement found its way onto the front pages of major music magazines, and it shows in the band's airtight presentation. Polished but not slick, the Forty Fives were all about energy; all the songs sounded the same, but since each one was played like it was the band's last, it doesn't matter that much. (In concert, at least; on record it's another thing altogether.) By the end of its set, the combo had broken several guitar strings, inspired much dancing amongst the women in the crowd and soaked their shirts to the skin in sweat. Once these guys learn to write hooks as devastating as their stage presence, they'll be damn dangerous.

11:00 pm
The D4 @ Emo's
The D4 was one of the most hotly anticipated acts of the festival. Along with their Kiwi compatriots the Datsuns, the D4 supposedly heralds a new wave of down-under rock & roll. While the Datsuns evoke their Australian neighbors AC/DC, the D4 borrow more from what is often referred to as punk rock & roll. In other words, punk rock with guitar solos, in the Raw Power tradition. On cuts like "Get Loose" and "Nobody Talks," the Auckland foursome did its thing quite competently, with plenty of energy and a solid knowledge of how to write the kind of crashing, if indistinct, riffs that cause so many tattooed bodies to move. Not unlike the Swedish band "Demons," in fact—the D4 would have fit right in at Gearfest. Unfortunately, there are a million bands out there right now that sound just like this, and it's going to take a bit more than the well-meaning but colorless D4 can muster to truly stand out from the pack. The D4 is the type of act that would become someone's favorite, if they'd never heard any of the hundreds of other bands who do the same thing better.

12:00 midnight
The Formula @ Room 710
Back at the Tee Pee showcase, cursing myself for missing Bad Wizard to follow the buzz to disappointment, I caught the coming-out party for the Formula. Known until very recently as 77, the Formula is the latest project of Monster Magnet lead guitarist Ed Mundell, rising from the ashes of the late, lamented Atomic Bitchwax. Like the Bitchwax, the Formula indulges itself (and I mean that in a good way) in skillfully performed, deeply felt psychedelic power trio rock, with plenty of room for Mundell to make his Strat sing. The addition of a non-musician vocalist (Jason, on loan from the great Solace) was still a potential snag; while the guy had a strong hard rock voice, his metal goober stage persona made me wonder if he wouldn't be more comfortable in Savatage. But, as with Bitchwax, the real action was in Mundell's magic fingers, which moved smoothly up and down the fretboard as if Eddie Van Halen never happened (and never needed to). The Formula will make you believe in power chords and wah-wah again.

1:00 am
Sahara Hotnights @ The Blender Bar at the Ritz
I missed Sahara Hotnights last year, due to being flat worn out by an atomic performance by The Soundtrack of Our Lives, and I kicked myself for it once I heard their excellent record Jennie Bomb. I was determined not to miss them this year; my anxiety was rewarded tenfold. The all-female Swedish punk quartet (and isn't it sad that I still have to note these things?) has everything the D4 doesn't: catchy, memorable songs, a distinctive personality and loads of attitude. Drawing mostly from Jennie Bomb, the Hotnights kicked up a furious storm of pop hooks and power chords with tunes like "Keep Up the Speed" and "Alright Alright (Here's My Fist Where's the Fight)," garnering itself not only the loud adoration of the crowd but also an encore, usually a no-no at SXSW. Two songs, including the snotty anthem "On Top of Your World," later, it was over, the audience left breathless and thoroughly rocked. Sahara Hotnights are, simply put, a top flight, kick-ass rock & roll band; issues of gender or nationality are irrelevant.

previous: 3/12/03 | next: 3/14/03—WE, the Darkness, Rock City Morgue, Sourvein, British Sea Power, Singapore Sling and more!

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