21 sweaty pics from SXSW: a small slice of our 2016 festival fun

The best SXSW experiences always come about randomly, and this year kicked off for me with that kind of spontaneity when I received an invite to Tracy Morgan’s Funny or Die-sponsored secret show last Monday at the Scoot Inn. Technically part of the SXSW Interactive conference, the guest list-only crowd was gently hip and glued to their phones, but Tracy blew all that tech vanilla-ness up with a raunchy, rowdy, race-skewering routine that used his near-tragic car accident as the catalyst for most material.

I’ve been a huge fan of Ezra Furman ever since I first stumbled on his 2007 debut Bangin’ Down the Doors. Once a yelping, howling “next Bob Dylan,” Ezra and his most recent band the Boy-Friends now dial up what they call “genre-less, gender-less,” saxophone-anchored pop-rock that feels both positive and heartbreaking. Furman bounces between mania and preternatural calm, sometimes within the same line, as evidenced on “Ordinary Life” and “Lousy Connection.” If you like heightened emotion and high energy, dig into any part of his prolific discography and I guarantee you’ll find something to love.

I finished my Wednesday night, and my Thursday night, and my Friday afternoon with doo-wop/garage pop/’50s rock revivalists Shannon & The Clams, and all three of the shows were solid in different ways: variegated set lists, different versions of standout hits like “Point of Being Right,” the addition of a keyboardist for extra depth, and adjusted energy for the 1 a.m. closing set at Barracuda for Wichita Recordings’ showcase, the 11 p.m. prime-time slot at Cheer Up Charlie’s, and the 6 p.m. cap-off at Hotel San Jose’s popular #SXSJ outdoor party. Frontwoman Shannon Shaw raved about her love for touring in Florida, both in Orlando and St. Augustine, and said she can’t wait to bring the Clams back later this fall.

Austin’s own A Giant Dog sent the Barracuda crowd into a frenzy with their hyper-driven, drunken hard rock. Frontwoman Sabrina Ellis cut a sexy, empowering figure in her sequined American flag bodysuit, and when she brought a Donald Trump piñata on stage, her co-vocalist and songwriter Andrew Cashen told the crowd they better be angry enough to “tear that motherfucker to pieces.” Which the crowd did, stomping on the Donald, ripping his arms and legs asunder, and then dancing away the afternoon on the popcorn that once filled him up to irresistible jams like “Sex & Drugs” and “All I Wanted.” Stay tuned for this band’s first album on Merge Records out May 6, ’cause it’s a banger.

Vaadat Charigim’s glacial, towering stoner rock provided a nice antidote to his Burger Records labelmates’ positive slop-pop.

Fast-rising New York hardcore crew Big Ups don’t let anyone in the audience get into a comfort zone, even at 12:30 in the backyard of one of Austin’s finest dive bars, Side Bar. Big ups to frontman Joe Galarraga for still finding some unsuspecting 50-something dudes to wrap his mic cable around, as is his tradition.

Providence, Rhode Island’s Downtown Boys deliver a message of queer and minority empowerment that resonated with the mostly white crowd at the Ad Hoc Showcase at Cheer Up Charlie’s, Austin’s most inclusive and welcoming bar. Prior to every song, vocalist Victoria Ruiz delivered a passionate stream of consciousness diatribe, summed up perfectly in their song “100% Inheritance Tax,” which is about exactly what you think it is.

Charles Bradley, the Screamin’ Eagle of Soul, is the most passionate 66-year-old performer on the planet, a man whose message of endless positivity, infinite love and basic human kindness could get him elected president if he tried. Bradley brought down the house as the headliner of the Billy Reid Shindig at Weather Up, a beautiful outdoor venue in East Austin. After a 10-minute rendition of “Changes,” Bradley’s heart-rending cover of the Black Sabbath ballad, followed by a 15-minute session of passing out sweaty hugs to everyone in the audience who wanted one, the audience was treated to a splendid sunset over Austin’s rapidly growing skyline, a moment everyone will remember in a totally non-ironic way (promise).

Prince Rama, who boast Florida roots — sisters Taraka and Nimai Larson were raised on a Hare Krishna commune outside of Gainesville — delivered possibly the trippiest art-pop performance of the entire week, matching outfits and electronic grooves and thumping beats combining into a swirl of hits from their new album, Xtreme Now.

New Paltz, New York’s Diet Cig is a two-piece pop-punk powerhouse that feels like the friendliest band on the planet. That’s mostly because of frontwoman Alex Luciano’s high kicks and impassioned delivery, although drummer Noah Bowman’s provided the sonic and rhythmic foundation for her restless energy.

Oh, Peaches. The Canadian performance artist extraordinaire brought her sex-positive songs about genital love, gender fluidity and all-around freaky filth to an otherwise family-friendly show at Hotel San Jose — and just as she launched into “Rub,” off her most recent album, the skies opened up and the crowd soon devolved into a sweaty, rain-soaked mess of booty-shaking and champagne-spraying. Event MC and Austin icon Rebecca Havemeyer of CHRISTEENE came out for a crotch-baring cameo on “Can I Get a Close-Up?” and, well, I think even God herself got down for a few minutes.

After Peaches it was back down to earth and into the pit for Thee Oh Sees at Hotel Vegas’ Panache Booking showcase. I saw these California psych savants several times during the week, but nothing topped their closing set, during which the 500 or so folks on stage all went bonkers when John Dwyer ordered everyone to “Activate!”

When it comes to visceral experience, nobody can top Yonatan Gat, an Israeli psych-rock guitar master who sets up in the middle of the crowd at every venue with his bassist Sergio Sayeg and drummer Gal Lazer. The trio floats through African-influenced polyrhythms, free jazz explorations, Hendrix-style freakouts and dark surf noir, all while shredding their instruments to within an inch of their life. And such a cathartic setup gives audience members something to laser in on instead of just idly watch. This power trio played 18 shows in six days — pure manic energy.

When it comes to smooth, string-laden country rock, nobody is quite on par with Louisiana native Dylan LeBlanc, whose sultry voice goes perfectly with his accompanying cellist and violinist. Catch him opening for Alabama Shakes in Tampa and St. Augustine April 29-30, as well as appearing at Sunfest in West Palm Beach on May 1.

The crowd mostly chuckled at his gay country songs, but we forget that Patrick Haggerty wrote them under the Lavender Country pseudonym in 1972, when being gay in the South — and a country singer to boot — was as close to a death sentence as an otherwise law-abiding white man could get.

Philly’s Low Cut Connie does brash, shit-kicking country rock so well the crowd gathered at local Austin dive C-Boys Heart & Soul probably thought the band was as local as it gets.

Two bands at Do512’s The Big One! Party on Saturday — England’s Drowners and New York’s Public Access TV — dispelled the notion that white-dude indie rock is dead.

(Big props to Public Access TV for calling out all the Mac DeMarco wannabes wearing Carhartt hats, too.)

New York pop savants Porches, who played Backbooth mere days before driving to Austin, were one of the most buzzed-about bands of SXSW. As Bao Le-Huu wrote of the band’s Orlando performance, Aaron Maine’s five-piece lineup fleshes out his bedroom electronica perfectly, providing extra ethereal air to his sleek modern R&B along with added heft in the low end.

Holy shit — Vancouver’s White Lung might be the fiercest and most urgent of the 5,000 or so other awesome female-fronted punk bands on the planet right now.