The SxSW Diaries: Casual Sex vs Texas

Day 1: Monday 10^th March

A surprisingly painless ten hour flight from London later and we arrive in Dallas to see the sunset. Certainly, a nice greeting for bleary eyed Brits. US Border Control generally fills us with dread – every musician knows the horror stories, and we've been forewarned by our agent that, already, several acts have been turned away and sent home for improper paperwork. Thankfully, ours is in order and we walk through without a hitch, which is rather nice. I certainly do not miss being detained for two hours and having mugshots and fingerprints taken, like the last time at New York's JFK. Call it southern hospitality?

Caught our connection and chatted to the first of many friendly Texans. Couldn't quite pluck up the courage to talk to Breaking Bad's Gus Fring (Giancarlo Esposito), who was sat at the very front of the plane in first class. I'm sure he enjoyed everyone boarding the plane, walking right past him and fanboy/girl-ing. I know he knew that we all knew. We just found him intimidating and I'm glad (SPOILER ALERT) I didn't try my, “the last time I seen you, you had half a face” line. As I'm sure he's never had that one before.

After an agreeable greeting with some over-sized guitar statues in Austin's Bergstrom airport we were met by a cartoon character Russian taxi driver, “What is this shit? Man... this is baloney” he exclaimed upon seeing our instruments. He then proceeded to drive us across town to our host's house, cursing the idiots who descend upon the city during the festival and being side-splittingly negative about almost everything. He reminded me of GTA 4's Nico Bellic, Hey Arnold's Mr Kokoshka or maybe even Larry David. A true card, as we might say in Glasgow.

Either way, we survived. On childlike giddiness, airplane food and proper paperwork, Casual Sex made it to Austin, Texas!

/p>

Day 2: Tuesday 11^th March.

Our new Texan best friend's are Grizzly and Missy. Their personalities are diametrically opposed, Grizzy bounds about, permanently hyper-active and playful while Missy looks on, almost disapprovingly at the other, content enough with company alone. The band and I decide that we'd like to have a pint with Missy, she's probably seen some things, man. We think she'd drink Guinness.

As both dogs serve as useful alarm clocks throughout our stay in Austin the band wake up early. We had no shows today so we took the bus into town to get our wristbands and a feel for the city. As the bus gets nearer to the city centre, the passengers get younger and begin to look more and more like extras from Portlandia, or the clientèle of Glasgow's Monorail (One of us! One of us..!) – we can safely assume we're on the right bus.

Musicians and bands are strange at the best of times, so it's funny to see thousands of them in one room at the same time. Such a situation existed in the Austin Convention Centre. Imagine a big exhibition room filled with hundreds of bands queuing for their artist wrist bands. Anywhere you look you might see long haired hippies, Japanese punks, hip-hop crews, K-Pop cuties and/or straight-outta Dalston hipsters. Oh, and lots and lots of painfully self-aware glances and hair tousling. A cynic might play guess the genre (I didn't play guess the genre – I was too busy making sure my hair was ok).

Spotted Nardwuar the Human Serviette being hounded by fans, and then spent an inordinate amount of time explaining his enduring cultural importance to the others as we made our way over to 6^th Street.

Where did all these people come from? Everywhere, quite literally. The street is a truly multicultural throng of people, new sights and sounds surround us with every step as we pushed our way through the crowd in search of a slice of pizza. Although the scene is truly chaotic, one thing you can be certain of is that no matter where you go, you will find live music.

After some disappointing, South Park-esque country singing (Google: Freedom Isn't Free), we stumbled across 6^th Street and found ourselves in front of the finest bar band we've ever had the pleasure of seeing. The manic grin on our faces as the guitar player expertly tore into the solo of ZZ Top's La Grange said it all – we knew we were onto a winner. We then proceeded to sink several Lone Star beers (Texas' Tennent's Lager equivalent) and er, rock out.

With our chests somewhat hairier (thank you, JT Coldfire) and our perception rather pickled, we wandered through the heat to the Hilton Hotel – we had the Daily Record to meet. On the way there we bumped into Jarvis Cocker. 'Bumped into' is an understatement of the highest order, we full on Glasgow-ed the poor man. “Awrite Jarvis” we yelled across the street before rushing over. Within seconds, as is customary in Glasgow we were slightly-inebriated BFFs. Pictures were taken and guestlist spots exchanged, clearly never to be redeemed. An exceedingly tall man, he seemed very accommodating, though I heard after the fact that he's not too fond of fan pictures. I hope we didn't Glasgow him into a picture. (We definitely Glasgow-ed him into a picture).

Time for pictures. Like an awkward schoolboy, I still shuffle around incessantly and fidget with my hair when I'm getting my picture taken, silently hoping the camera goes off when my face is at a flattering angle. The not-quite-stifling, but certainly considerable heat exacerbates this, as do the people across the road taking pictures of us having our picture taken. I feel like kindly reminding them that I'm not a cool rock star and I still live with my Mum and Dad in the suburbs.

I doubt the rest of the band suffer this problem, they seem like naturals. We play it off cool (yo!) long enough for our photographer to get The Shot. On our way back into the musical epicentre of Austin, we Glasgow Bo Ningen (sorry guys), a Japanese noise rock band we had the pleasure of meeting in Cardiff a couple of years back. I highly recommend them, even if the music isn't for you, I guarantee you will marvel at their hair. 

The rest of the evening is spent eating Mexican food and acclimatising to this wonderful city.

 

 

Day 3: Wednesday 12^th March

K9 alarm clocks are surprisingly reliable. We wake up on time courtesy of Grizzly and Missy, get dressed to Lou Reed and head over to The Mohawk for our SPIN Magazine/House of Vans gig. Sitting out in the sun, sipping free drinks on the balcony and watching Eagulls soundcheck is a good way to start the day.

Thankfully, we were playing inside in the dark – I don't think you can get completely Casual Sexed in the daylight, it just doesn't feel the same. The venue filled up very nicely and we took the stage. The sight of heads bopping is always a good sign and It didn't take long before Sam had the crowd in fits of laughter between songs. Casual Sex go down best when the room is loose, and Sam's a master of seduction (famous of course, for his lipstick) – the room soon started to buzz, heaving with dancers. A very nice sight for a jet lagged band, trepidatiously dipping their toes into SxSW for the first time.

As a musician, even though we've been fortunate enough to play in the US before, throughout the performance my head was filled almost exclusively with thoughts of disbelief. I still cannot believe we are in America again, playing our music to real people who are not only enjoying it, but actively going for it, having it et al! Free T-shirts were most definitely in order for the most enthusiastic of that crowd. A very, very warm welcome for Casual Sex!

After a collective sigh of relief that the first show went well, we gathered our gear and lugged it a few streets to The Flamingo Cantina for the Under The Radar Magazine Party.  One of the strangest sights at SxSW is the constant, worker ant like lines of bands criss-crossing the streets, carrying their gear between shows – occasionally pausing for breath or to stare on with envy at those fortunate enough to afford a tour van, or those intelligent enough to use some sort of trolley. We arrived at the venue to catch the very end of Connan Mockasin's set. I wish I'd have seen more, his gig at Glasgow's King Tut's earlier in the year was phenomenal. Either way, it was nice to have a chat with him up on the rooftop beer garden in the sun after the show. Asking him lots, and lots about the recording of his new album as it's quite possibly one of the finest sounding records in recent years.

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"I don't think you can get completely Casual Sexed in the daylight"

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Our second gig of SxSW went well, considering the stifling heat and the fact we're not used to playing more than one show a day! Either way, we had a good time playing and meeting folks afterwards – spending the remainder of the early evening on the rooftop garden in the sun. Sunshine and free alcohol are a rare treat for pale Glaswegians – and on this luxury, we truly gorged.

Afterwards we headed back towards the House of Vans to claim our free pair of shoes! At this point, me and Pete decided to utilise one of the swarm of pedicabs that populate the streets of Austin. It was a truly triumphant moment. We gave the rest of the band (who were walking immediately behind us) the finger and proclaimed we had 'won' the tour. We were completely euphoric for the one block that it lasted and we were informed that due to road restrictions, we could be taken no further. The lady made $10 for it, worth every penny.

We found ourselves a short walk later at the House of Vans – not the venue, but a little suburban house directly opposite The Mohawk that had been commandeered by the brand and turned into an adhoc shoe dispensary. Outside the house, fooling around like a bunch of particularly intimidating, yet overly-giddy schoolboys; stood Tyler, the Creator and what looked like a large portion of Odd Future. We had to wait our turn along with Angel Olsen while they were given the tour and after they had departed with their free gifts it was our time to be spoiled rotten by the corporate machine, man.

(If you must know, I chose a sensible black pair that I will actually wear. The others opted to gift their girlfriends or went with rather outlandish designs which, as the sensible band member, I strongly advised against. Thee Sam Smith in multi-coloured skate shoes? I think not.)

After being schmoozed and shoed by Vans we picked our gear up and trudged straight back down to Earth to catch the bus back home. Certainly a rather surreal situation to find yourself in! Carrying gear and being accosted by crust punks and crack heads definitely keeps your feet on the ground – no matter how free and exclusive your new shoes are. By the end of the day we weren't sure whether or not the blisters were from playing, or from carrying gear about all day. Either way, what a start to our SxSW.

 

Day 4: Thursday 13^th March

Today we learned why Austin is quite possibly the friendliest city we've ever had the pleasure to visit. Trudging through the suburbs towards our bus stop, head to toe in black in the midday sun and juggling our flight cases to try to mitigate some blister pain; (we must have been some sight) an SUV pulls over and a nice lady offers us a lift.

At this point I must mention that today we also ignored one of childhood's most important lessons: Don't get in a car with a stranger. This stranger however, happened to be a women on her way to Yoga class, not far from where we were due to play. I don't know of any serial killers who did Yoga and besides, before we got into the car she did say she wasn't going to kill us – this arrangement was clearly golden.

Fortunately, Denise didn't drive us to the Mexican border to sell us as slaves to the drug cartels, nor did she pull a gun on us and steal our gear, she drove us literally to the door of the venue – giving us a talking tour of Austin on the way. Did you know that Waterloo records is open till 11pm? Also, did you know that Wholefoods market started in Austin? Look, there's the world headquarters – doesn't look too menacing, does it? And did you know how miserable Casual Sex looked lugging their gear along that busy road? Very, according to Denise.

We could have wept with gratitude as we arrived at the venue but we didn't, we parted with a big hug, wished her a good day (she had already made ours) and paid her with a Casual Sex t-shirt (that I doubt would be very suitable for her job, working for the local government).

We arrived at the venue just in time for another pleasant musical surprise courtesy of Copenhagen's Baby In Vain – think of The Melvins fronted by two young Danish woman who play blistering dual lead guitar in between a deluge of thick, slow, sludge. They had myself and Peter grinning from ear to ear within seconds. Nothing like heavy rock to wake you up.

Playing to a beer garden full of fresh hangover casualties in the (very) early afternoon is hard work, and as a musician this was by and large the hardest gig of SxSW. I'd say we played well regardless (despite the make-ups and onstage humour, we'd like to think we're professionals) and had a good time, making some new fans along the way. Though, I doubt very much that those nursing what looked like rather nasty hangovers so early in the day were, in fact, all there mainly for the sex.

Gig number two of the day was at Latitude 30, a venue just off of Sixth Street, that for the duration of the festival is rechristened as the British Music Embassy. It's always good to bump into old tour buddies, so we were delighted to meet up with Derbyshire's Drenge, with whom we'd toured France along with Psych-Rockers Temples late last year. Drenge are two refreshingly down to earth brothers who play grunge rock, and we'd bonded over a shared love Glasgow's Brian “Limmy” Limond.

The gig went well, the fact my drum stool was mere inches from the edge of the stage (and a potential drop of several feet) kept me on my toes and it was nice to finally get to play for our SxSW hosts Roger & Casey whom we spotted sporting our t-shirts and bopping around in the crowd.

Afterwards we were whisked, I say whisked – getting Casual Sex from A to B is more akin to herding crippled cats – off to the convention centre for a rather swanky rooftop interview with The Skinny. This scored rather high on our Roxy Music Glamour-Scale and was a nice end to our working day. I'd also like to extend a very large thank you to Dave for his quick thinking and rapid phone calls that had me reunited with my passport almost immediately! I was clearly so overcome with the glamour of the situation that I left my bag on the rooftop.

Walking back through Austin towards the bus stop we noticed the Pi in The Sky – an art project which, upon Googling, we found out was a “celebration of the universal language of Pi”, as March 14^th is now recognised in the USA as Pi Day, Impressively, this almost impossibly accurate writing in the sky was accomplished by 5 computer synchronised planes utilising dot-matrix writing technology. The planes sat at 10,000ft and set about printing out as much of the Pi sequence as possible – I later found out that each character produced in the sky was about the same size as a skyscraper and the writing covered a radius of 100 square miles. Definitely worth a picture and a re-tweet. Food for thought as we took the bus home for beers on the balcony and an early night.

 

Day 5: Friday 14^th March

After a very long lie in – usually, and perhaps quite surprisingly, Casual Sex woke up during SxSW every morning at a time mimicking that of ordinary people – we headed down to the Austin Convention Centre for Flatstock 43 and the SxSW gear expo.

Flatstock 43 is a trade show presented by the American Poster Institute showcasing a mind-numbing array of works from the word's top gig poster artists. I spent a good few hours idly browsing (Queens of The Stone Age win hands down for the sheer amount of gig posters they've had commissioned) before settling on a piece by Asheville, NC-based artist, James Flames. I bought a nice limited edition screen print of a young garage band frustrated in the rehearsal room, captioned with lines from The Beatles' While My Guitar Gently Weeps: “With every mistake, we must surely be learning...” I think it'd sit nicely on my recording studio's wall.

A short walk across town brought us to the The Fader Fort and our interview with Sirius FM. The Fader Fort was filled with federal law-skirting smoke and people lounging around in the mid afternoon heat. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, our manager refrained from telling us that this interview would go out to around 40 million listeners. Either way, in true Alan Partridge style, we spoke at length about the lack of public transport in Austin and how our latest bus stop encounter with a nice man named Larry had informed us about the city's status as both the 11^th largest and fastest growing in America. Keep it sexy, stay informed.

Time for our last and perhaps most special show of the festival: Showcasing Scotland at The British Music Embassy. Joining us on the bill were SxSW veteran Withered Hand, Meursault, Honeyblood and fellow Fat Cat label-mates We Were Promised Jetpacks along with the seemingly unstoppable hip hop hype-machine, Young Fathers. Compering the night of course, was none other than everybody's favourite Scottish uncle – Vic Galloway. It's always nice being introduced, it certainly notches things up on our Roxy Music Glamour-Scale.

Scotland must do ok, as the venue was filled to capacity shortly after doors. It remained this way throughout the night, the crowd warm, receptive and audibly appreciative to each successive act. It was also an opportunity for us to catch up on what Scotland actually sounds like to the outside world – I think Casual Sex have a tendency to spend just a little too long locked away in our studio. It was good to finally be able to match music to band names we've been hearing so much about for the past year. The gig was by far our favourite of the run, I think we mustered up all our energy and put on a real show as we knew this was a special night. Musically, we were tight and on form and with Sam was firing on all his witty cylinders the crowd seemed to lap it up. I showed my appreciation with the last of our free t-shirts and some blood sacrifice; with the drum kit receiving a fair few lashings of blood from my burst finger. Sorry Honeyblood, I probably should have mopped that up.

Workin', Bleedin', Relaxin': Post-gig interviews and hideously bloody fingers cleared up, Casual Sex spent the remainder of the evening enjoying what Scottish music and American beer have to offer. The quality was high and the beer was cold. Let's hope we can keep that up.

Saturday 15^th March:

Today, barring an early afternoon of interviews and photo shoots, was our first of two days off before we had to head home. After we'd completed our outstanding promotional duties we went in search of some food. As we walked in to a local gastro pub, there was a lady playing The Star Spangled Banner on the fiddle, most men had their hands and/or hats held over their hearts with some even standing up. Either way, it was a strange phenomenon to witness and one that made us feel acutely foreign. I think anyone this overtly patriotic would be scoffed at in the UK.

I can't remember what we ate, I just remember being eternally grateful for being out of the heat with my bottom in a seat and food on my plate. Another collective sigh of relief from the band and crew, we had done it! We'd went to America again to play our music and we played well.

Strange after-dinner energy slump and post-SxSW exhaustion had us in a near-silent stupor until out of nowhere another round of drinks appeared on our table! It turned out that the husband, wife and their large group of friends from Chicago whom we spent an afternoon with drinking after our show at The Flamingo Cantina were at the other side of the pub. It's funny how free drinks can perk you up! Several free rounds followed, in exchange they asked if I could write a little letter of encouragement for their young son who is learning to play the drums. I wrote about how fun and fulfilling playing music is and that if you practice hard and you're lucky you get to meet lots of interesting people, travel the world and most importantly, that girls like musicians! You could tell it meant a lot to them, at least the price of another round of drinks. My good deed for the day.

It made me think about everything that we've done over the past year, If I could somehow tell my younger self what I've been doing lately, I'm sure I'd have been laughed out of the room. We've worked very hard as a band and we've been unimaginably lucky. To be doing the things we're doing is an absolute dream come true and I think it's important to realise and reflect on this. It keeps you grateful and it keeps you grounded and quite frankly, I'd be proud of what we've done up until now for the rest of my life if we were to never play another note as a band.

After goodbyes, thank you's and promises to come to St. Louis and Chicago, we went for a walk across Congress Avenue Bridge. We never seen any bats (apparently it's home to the world's largest urban bat colony) but shortly after we did stumble into an X-Games event, complete with a mini-ramp, country bands and a car park full of skateboarders. Sitting with the band and crew, watching the skateboarders while being serenaded by a country band and sipping some beer; I explained how I didn't want to leave this wonderful city and genuinely felt sad about having to do so for the first time. This sentiment snuck into my conversations in an almost rhythmic, repeating fashion for the remainder of the trip.

Me and Pete then took another glorious Pedi Taxi ride (basically so we could be juvenile and give the finger to the rest of the band while zooming past) up to Rainey Street to meet our manager for drinks and music at the (sadly now closed at time of writing to make way for a new hotel) Lustre Pearl. I watched Australian band OXBLVD and was blown away by their track, Let Me Be Your Man, it made me really wish I had a partner to slow dance with.

A few beers and pleasant conversation with the locals later, Think No Think took the stage. If you can imagine Thee Oh Sees fronted by Robert Plant then I'm sure you could approximate their sound. The bass player spent almost as much time clambering up and over amplifiers and fences as he did playing, at one point he actually ended up out on the street.  He always kept the groove going however and the audience loved it. Their set was timed perfectly, hard rock never seems to go amiss after midnight at a beer fuelled party and I certainly think the huge kiss planted on lead singer and Austin local, John Dowey's face by an enraptured audience member upon leaving the stage was proof enough that they'd definitely made a good job of it.

We picked up a taxi fairly quickly (a real skill in Austin, Texas) and headed home with buzzing ears for beers on the balcony. A very good day off and a nice opportunity to experience SxSW from a punter's point of view.

Day 7: Sunday 16^th March:

Today was sadly our last day in Austin. We spent the afternoon indulging in margaritas and mingling with Meursault, Withered Hand, Vic Galloway and others at the home of Pete: Dear Scotland blogger and very welcoming host!

Later in the evening we headed over to, “The only East Side Honky Tonk featuring live music seven days a week” – The White Horse. Like a Nice 'n' Sleazy for stetson wearers, there was a live band playing and several young couples blues dancing, quite impressively, on the floor. We fell in love deeply and instantly, bought drinks and headed to the floor and proceeded to make a fool of ourselves until closing time. One lady did comment that she thought it was cool that we, “British guys” didn't care about dancing with each other, I'd rather her compliments than being ran out of town by gun-toting Texan dudes. Then again, I've heard that there's Texas and then there's Austin, Texas and never the twain shall meet. I'm sure us foreigners and our funny accents would have been fine.

Caught another taxi fairly quickly – we'd really refined our taxi-hailing craft by this point - and headed home. All taxi drivers in Austin seem to be true Cards and this man was no exception: A very friendly, talkative Mexican immigrant, Cheech & Chong-ish, with a large hat who blasted the likes of War's Low Rider for the entirety of the journey. It was worth every penny, and we made sure he was tipped handsomely.

Day 8: Monday 17^th March:

With heavy hearts and heavier cases we said our goodbyes to Rodger, Casey, Missy & Grizzy, our  truly wonderful hosts (and their two adorable dogs) who spoiled us rotten and treated us with nothing but trust, respect and er, sloppy dog tongues for the entire week! We took a taxi, driven of course by another Card who insisted on matching bright zebra print seat covers and playing badly made saxophone instrumentals in his car. Nevertheless, however eccentric he may have been, he was like most of his counterparts, talkative, friendly and knowledgeable and we tipped well.

Arrived at the airport to see some poor musician throwing up into a bin. I bet he wasn't the only musician in Austin feeling like that at this point. Too much Lone Star and not enough sleep can destroy a man. We were soon shuffling through airport security and making lots of juvenile South Park references (Season 16, Episode 1 if you must know) and we spotted Parquet Courts. Unfortunately, this was the only occasion I'd managed to see this brilliant band throughout the festival, having missed all of their performances. I look forward to their Glasgow gig in June very much.

A fairly short, sleepy flight to Chicago found Casual Sex in The Windy City. Upon landing I was amazed at just how flat the city was and quite overwhelmed by how far the conurbation stretched. It wasn't quite Trantor or coruscant (these references are precisely the reason why I should not be in a rock and roll band) but it certainly plucked some anxious string in my nervous system. Chicago is beyond massive.

With our heads filled with little more than air, running on fumes we stumbled off the plane and into the terminal, setting about finding the gate for our flight back to Blighty. There was nothing on the board, so we waited. And waited. And had a nice salad. And waited. And then got worried and asked an attendant who looked bewildered, told us we were in the wrong terminal and that there was no way we were making the flight.

Disaster! Lots of running and swearing. It was probably quite a spectacle to behold: a bedraggled rock musician stress-fuelled airport Olympics. We took a train to the other terminal and checked in again, this attendant was slightly more optimistic, in between sarcastic comments – we might just make it, if, we get through security on time. Being at the fate of (and potentially having thousands of pounds resting on, as we later found out the correct terminal was printed on our tickets, which would have voided our travel insurance) the timeliness of the Transportation Security Administration is no laughing matter – there were no juvenile South Park references this time. Just pale white faces and panicked looks. Fortunately, we were through quite quickly, having been let in the first class queue by a sympathetic attendant. I think the last time we undressed and dressed so quickly, we were probably teenagers, doing something we shouldn't be doing.

We picked up our gear and ran. I'd have crossed my fingers if I wasn't carrying so much. To fail at the final hurdle would have been devastating, not least to our wallets. I broke the land-speed record through the duty free and rounded a corner. Is that who I think it is? Is that what I think it is? Yes! It is Leeds-based 'Dark Cerebral Pop' group, Battle Lines. Yes! They are queuing at the correct gate for the same flight as us. And yes, I don't care if I was too shy to speak to you at the British Music Embassy on Thursday, I'm going to speak, shout and scream at you now! We've made it!

The conversation was fairly short and slightly awkward.

A relatively painless flight between two stoic (none of us left our seat for the duration) and silent middle aged women later and we'd landed in London. Back in Blighty, unscathed but shattered, the South Park references started again as soon as we'd reached Heathrow's security, along with a new comedy character, whom we imagined smuggled illicit meats across the border, for a price. Call Curtis, The Customs Wizz. Sleep deprivation works wonders on humour.

After a short drive, taking in the (Alan) Partridge-approved M25 as well as the lush green rolling hills and forests of Southern England, courtesy of some truly cracking B-roads; we were tucked up in bed in the sleepy Sussex village that bore Casual Sex's Sam Smith, our SxSW experience concluded, and our minds reeling from the trip of a lifetime.