Day 1 report from SXSW: Bluegrass, blues and gospel.

Editor’s note: Peter Lewis, the only cultured member of The City Wire staff, is in Austin, Texas, providing updates on the popular SXSW music festival. He will provide updates on festival events and performances Thursday through Sunday. This is his first report. Stay tuned.

story and photos by Peter Lewis

Day one in Austin began where so many others before it had as well — at the Posse.  Located a block north of the University of Texas campus, the Posse East is an Austin institution (not to mention a former employer). The flow of students is ever changing but there is a cast of regulars that return day in and day out. They embody the postman’s motto — neither rain, nor sleet, nor snow.

While the postmen fight the elements to deliver mail, these regulars persevere for their daily beer. Because of this, I walk in knowing people. No matter how long I’m away, these folks are always there — as if they’re caught in time.

After some beverages and bar food, we bid adieu to the Posse and headed south to the Austin Convention Center to pick up Cookies’ wristband for the festival (Cookies is a nickname and has nothing to do with a penchant for baked goods).

Wristbands intact, we headed north towards Maggie Mae’s Gibson Room to hear The Donkeys. This venue is on Trinity, just south of the fabled 6th Street. As the astute reader might deduce, it is an homage to the famous Gibson guitar. With different guitars and artwork of music luminaries like Jimi Hendrix on the wall, it is indeed a properly adorned music venue.

Though the intention was to see The Donkeys, we ended up catching the majority of Mia Riddle’s set. This Brooklyn based outfit was a pleasant surprise. Laid back, drawn out rock with twinges of country dotting the edges.

Because I am somewhat easily confused, The Donkeys turned out not to be the band I was expecting to see. For some reason I thought I was going to be hearing music from a catchy folk pop band from the UK called Noah and the Whale. Evidently I transposed each band’s songs onto the other in my head. So, while I was surprised to hear The Donkeys music, I was by no means disappointed with their SoCal psychedelic rock sounds.

Switching gears, we headed next door to Smokin’ Music, an expansive venue that previously housed a now defunct local brewery. More unexpected pleasures were there.  The Lee Boys, a “sacred steel” outfit from Miami, Fla., were scheduled to perform at 10 p.m. Following their set was to be a bluegrass band called the Travelin’ McCourys at 11 p.m.

For some reason these two slots were flopped and the Travelin’ McCourys began their set first. If bluegrass had royalty, these fellows would be crowned princes of some sort. (The McCourys are scheduled for the Mulberry Mountain Music Festival in August.) Fronted by Ronnie (mandolin) and Rob McCoury (banjo), sons of the legendary Del McCoury, the Travelin’ McCourys gave a tight performance that was as much a lesson in technical mastery of their instruments as it was that “high lonesome sound” to which all bluegrass aspires.

As it turned out, the audience was to be treated to a combo performance by the two outfits. So after a 20-30 minute set, the McCourys gave way to grooving gospel of the Lee Boys. Prior to their performance I had never been introduced to “sacred steel” music. It’s a rhythm and blues infused form of gospel music. With a hard-driving steel guitar leading the way, this outfit could get any congregation shaking their hips — from the Church of the Latter-Day Dudes to Vatican itself.

After several songs the McCoury band got back on stage with the Lee Boys. What transpired was a truly inspired and off the cuff performance. The hills of Appalachia united with the swampy funk rhythm of the Lord in perfect harmony. The result was an enjoyable meshing of styles like none I had ever experienced in the many shows I’ve seen.

By this point in the evening, the elements were beginning to take its toll. Some friends showed up somewhat unexpectedly and ridiculousness ensued. I believe there was some sort of photo shoot in a vine covered courtyard while hipsters stared at us. 

Next was a performance by Jim Stringer. This was straight ahead country music from an experienced practitioner of the form. Sharing the vocals on occasion was a ebullient blond haired Texan gal in a cowboy hat. They tore through originals from their oddly titled album, triskaidekaphilia. Though they might have explained the name last night, I didn’t pick it up at the time. Evidently it’s the love of the number thirteen. The love was too much for us because we called it a night just before their set ended. If the opening night was any indication of what is to come, then it will be a very amazing week here in Austin.