Smokey Robinson/Courtney Love: Polar-opposite pop music royalty, both played SXSW's biggest venues yesterday to huge crowds.

Smokey was dignified, confident, affable, seemingly grounded, sometimes hilarious. He was backed by a nine-piece band, including three backing vocalists, plus a pair of dancers, all dressed in Motown-esque white-suited finery. During his hour-long set at the Austin Music Hall he offered song after classic song to the adoring throng, and the throng sang along word for word, note for note. "I thought maybe you bought tickets or had passes to this thing," he said, "but y'all are the South by Southwest Choir."

He did a dead-on imitation of Stevie Wonder that led into "Tears of a Clown," the music for which was written by Wonder, he explained. It was one of several monologs Robinson delivered, spelling out the origins of some of the most famous and beloved songs in the world: He wrote the Temptations' "The Way You Do the Things You Do" in the car while on tour driving to a gig, he said, and then played it. Hearing Robinson's personal connection to these iconic songs was poignant.

"I Second That Emotion," "You Really Got a Hold on Me," "Get Ready," "Being with You"--these songs are untouchable, but Robinson rendered them fresh and relevant and meaningful all over again. The feel-good moment of the weekend was "My Girl," the crowd singing along so loudly that Robinson backed up and had everyone repeat the chorus several times.

Kids singing along to their parents' music: Not what anyone expects at South by Southwest, but that's what we got. I texted my mom.



Courtney, on the other hand, ran dry on dignity a long time ago, a fact she's proud of. Her new incarnation of Hole played the Spin magazine party at Stubb's yesterday afternoon, Love and a four-piece backing band of youngsters that looked straight outta 1990. Wearing a black lacy top and cherry red lipstick, blond hair very blond, she opened with a snippet of "Pretty on the Inside" before taking a two-verse bite of "Sympathy for the Devil," seemingly to re-introduce herself to anyone who might've forgotten her bad behavior. The band--hard to call them Hole as Love's the only original member--"this is Hole whether you like it or not, you little suck sh*ts," she announced--ran through several songs from their upcoming album. These were by-the-numbers hard rock delivered professionally, no frills, aggressive, unmemorable. Love's lyrics offered further details about her sordid life, and your reaction to the performance was determined by how much you're willing to continue hearing further details about Courtney Love's sordid life.

She pleaded relevance: "Yeah, I'm on Facebook. There are teenage girls on Facebook. I have to watch over the teenage girls." Fair enough. It seems like Love's stature, whatever it's worth, would be put to better use without trying to convince anyone to listen to her music.

From pop to indie: Thurston Moore, guitarist for art-rock godfathers Sonic Youth, played to a small and attentive crowd at Red 7. Sitting calmly and strumming an acoustic 12-string guitar, he read lyrics to "Friends"--a tender, gentle song about an ex-girlfriend--from a printout sitting on a chair next to him. "I'm a little dis-com-bob-u-late-ed," he drawled, shuffling papers, but the small crowd was thrilled for the intimacy and immediacy of the moment.

Earlier in the day, Superchunk played a full-throttle set at the Village Voice day party. This band is true indie-rock royalty, comprising members of beloved indie label Merge Records. From start to finish, it was a powerhouse set, showing 20-some years into a banner career the go-for-it energy and passion of punk kids playing their parents' basement. They're everything you want in an indie-rock band: huge riffs, clever lyrics, sharp songs, wise-ass banter. "Slack Motherf*cker" is their anthem, what everyone came to hear, and towards the end of their set, they delivered.

Age is not necessarily the enemy of rock 'n' roll. Some artists just wear it better than others.

SXSW delivered on all its promise yesterday as underexposed bands gained national attention and hotly buzzed acts lived up to their hype. Say what you want about music and instant gratification in the Internet age, but there's nothing like 11 straight hours of booze and tunes under a blazing Texas sun to buoy your faith in the whole messy song and dance.

 

Top down, things went like this:

 

The Mohawk was the club of the night, headlined by London noir-pop trio the xx and undercarded by dance-mad experimentalists Holy Fuck and Swedish indie-folk songbird jj. The xx is one of SXSW's most lauded young bands, riding the acclaim of their self-titled debut, released mid-2009. Their reputation has been built by the record's unalloyed brilliance—a soft, sultry take on classic bedroom pop a la Mazzy Star and New Order—and reportedly their live sets have been mostly disappointing.

 

Not last night. The xx turned down the volume to show the power a little quietude can have amidst the noise and hustle of a rock festival. They played most of the songs from their album, mellow sexual tension delivered via pillow-talk vocals from Romy Madley Croft and Oliver Sim. Backed by electronic drums and minimalist keyboards, they culminated with should-be hit "Vcr" and sent the packed Mohawk crowd out into the night all hot and bothered.

A SXSW prediction: The best set of weekend came from a guy with a laptop on a Wednesday night.

 

Flying Lotus, aka LA-based beat alchemist Steven Ellison, is set for a big 2010, and last night's hour-long performance at the Phoenix felt like a catapult into the stratospheric heights he'll soon occupy. His third album, Cosmogramma, comes out on Warp in May. On it are guest appearances by pop music's two most talented/most enigmatic stars, Thom Yorke and Erykah Badu. The album is pure brilliance, merging dub, drum n bass, hip-hop, trip hop, glitch, and electro with a musicality it's tempting to call "jazzy." That FlyLo's great aunt is Alice Coltrane puts a certain spiritual-seeking context to his music, but it's not hard to hear the lineage. That he's touring with Thom York and producing his new solo material puts him in good artistic company.

 

"Ain't it crazy to hear shit that don't sound like nothin' else at SXSW?" Ellison asked midway through.

There's only one way to properly warm up for the four-day free-for-all/"music industry spring break" that is South by Southwest: Get "Killed by Death" via Motörhead, the decades-old garage-metal trio led by Ian "Lemmy" Kilmister.

Motörhead played an hour-long set last night at Stubb's, officially unaffiliated with South by Southwest ("SXSW" for the typographically lazy) but attended by a thousand or so early arrivals and Austin, TX locals. Despite the band's redlined energy level, the night held a sense of reserve. This was pregame, a day before SXSW begins, and the band started before 9 pm and ended before 10. Which maybe a good thing--there are 2,000 more bands to see between today and Saturday night. That's an average of 20 bands an hour for four full days.

The band roared into their set like it was their first of the year, which they said it was. At 64 years old, Lemmy's got a voice that makes Ozzy Osbourne sound like one of the Three Tenors--beyond gravely, it's like he's gargling boulders and spitting out nails. Once drummer Mikkey Dee unleashed a double-kick drum pummeling on "In the Name of Tragedy," the crowd surfers ascended the front-row throng and even the stragglers in the back of Stubb's dusty lot were caught up in the noise. In Austin, Tuesday is the new Thursday.

"Once again, we are Motörhead," Lemmy reminded at the end of the set, "and we play rock n fuckin' roll!" Point made.

Stay tuned for more dispatches from SXSW after the festival officially kicks off tonight.

Reverb reported nearly two months ago that the Eagles/Fleetwood Mac stadium tour had been scrapped before a single date had been set (unfortunately, we can’t reveal the reason, but don’t put your mind in the gutter -- it is far from tragic, scandalous or life-and-death. It was a concept that just didn’t work out). The Eagles have a slew of arena dates starting in April in LA, but they’ve got replacement stadium dates set up with the Dixie Chicks and Keith Urban.

Billy Joel recently announced that he’s leaving the Billy Joel/Elton John tour, that he needs some time off. Take that at face value I think it is true.. I interviewed Billy several days ago for a separate project, and he’s happy, sober, sharp and in good humor. Taking a year off would have helped many artists back in the day. Good for Billy for looking out for himself. And may I say it? Billy Joel kicks ass.

Michael Jackson could have used $250 million a year ago. It’s gross to say it, but now that he’s gone and can’t spend it, he’s got it. His estate is going to make Elvis’ marketing look like an ice cream stand. Get ready for a decade of Jacko.

Finally, I'm not  sure how I missed this -- not only is Ray Davies doing a duet with Bruce Springsteen on his upcoming album, but the song is "Better Things" - one of Ray's most affecting, loving ballads and an oft-overlooked Kinks classic.

Finally, a Jeff Beck interview that bears repeating. It's that good.

And his version of "A Day in the Life" also bears repeating.

 

 

 

I don't know if you have feelings about The Runaways, the '70s teen rocker girl punk band with Joan Jett and Cherie Currie, or The Runaways movie with Kristen Stewart as Joan Jett and Dakota Fanning as Cherie Currie, or indeed about the fact that it seems any old band can get a biopic made about them in the fullness of time, but I for one am very curious to see Michael Shannon play Runaways producer/svengali/all-around rock'n'roll creepasaurus Kim Fowley. Blogs all over are posting compare and contrast versions of the movie star "Cherry Bomb" and the authentic "Cherry Bomb." I can spot the difference, but I'm not sure how much it matters. There is something fascinating about this movie, but what? WHAT!

Well, it had to happen sooner or later, and maybe it already has, but here is the (totally biz-centric, sorry) story of Pink Floyd suing its rapidly declining behemoth of a record label, EMI, for selling its individual songs on download services. The Floyd contends its contract says EMI can only sell albums. EMI says its fingers were crossed when the contract was written, and that "individual songs" and "downloads" are as different as "us us us us us" and "them them them them them." I'm paraphrasing, obvz...

Not sure you've seen this John Lennon-bejeweled car commercial (I hadn't), so here it is: