I'm With the Band
Alternative title: When I Said I'd Given Up On Writing About SXSW, I Was Obviously Kidding Myself.
For a variety of reasons, I spent more time on my own this year at SXSW than I have in the past. I did a lot of work, then I'd sneak off to Austin's only aerial gym for a rehearsal, or sit by the hotel pool. Being conspicuously alone during an enormous music festival, with my funny hair and cartoonishly large sunglasses, a lot of conversations would begin with so, what band are you in?
Longtime readers of this space will know that I am not in a band. I have never been in a band, not even in high school. More importantly, if the bands I see at SXSW are any indication, the cranky goth girl with a headfull of black dreadlocks is not in the band. The girl with limp brown hair, awkward posture, and a closet full of third-hand cardigans? She's in the band. Extra points if she is wearing a pair of large plastic eyeglasses and Keds. And if the girl is young enough not to recall a time when these clothes were not ironic? Band. In fact, she plays keyboards. She might even play keyboards held up with a neck strap. Just wait until she discovers the keytar.
Since it was obvious to me that I am not in a band, I continuously passed up this golden opportunity to lie to strangers. I did not tell anyone I am a musician. I did not tell them I play the sitar, or the balalaika, or the accordion. I did not tell them my band is headlining the Latvian showcase, which is being hosted by the Quebecois showcase, but has been totally packed all week because the Baltic scene is really taking off right now. I did not claim to be the second drummer for White Savior Industrial Complex (it is a true fact that bands with two drummers are twice as good as bands with only one drummer). I did not describe my sound as ambientcore, hard folk, or anything ending in "step." Not once did I tell some inquisitive stranger that I was a singer/songwriter/cellist.
Oh no, my eye-rolling readers. I did none of these things because I foolishly believed that telling people what I do for a living might not result in a 20-minute discussion about SOPA. Next time, I swear I'm in a band.
For a variety of reasons, I spent more time on my own this year at SXSW than I have in the past. I did a lot of work, then I'd sneak off to Austin's only aerial gym for a rehearsal, or sit by the hotel pool. Being conspicuously alone during an enormous music festival, with my funny hair and cartoonishly large sunglasses, a lot of conversations would begin with so, what band are you in?
Longtime readers of this space will know that I am not in a band. I have never been in a band, not even in high school. More importantly, if the bands I see at SXSW are any indication, the cranky goth girl with a headfull of black dreadlocks is not in the band. The girl with limp brown hair, awkward posture, and a closet full of third-hand cardigans? She's in the band. Extra points if she is wearing a pair of large plastic eyeglasses and Keds. And if the girl is young enough not to recall a time when these clothes were not ironic? Band. In fact, she plays keyboards. She might even play keyboards held up with a neck strap. Just wait until she discovers the keytar.
Since it was obvious to me that I am not in a band, I continuously passed up this golden opportunity to lie to strangers. I did not tell anyone I am a musician. I did not tell them I play the sitar, or the balalaika, or the accordion. I did not tell them my band is headlining the Latvian showcase, which is being hosted by the Quebecois showcase, but has been totally packed all week because the Baltic scene is really taking off right now. I did not claim to be the second drummer for White Savior Industrial Complex (it is a true fact that bands with two drummers are twice as good as bands with only one drummer). I did not describe my sound as ambientcore, hard folk, or anything ending in "step." Not once did I tell some inquisitive stranger that I was a singer/songwriter/cellist.
Oh no, my eye-rolling readers. I did none of these things because I foolishly believed that telling people what I do for a living might not result in a 20-minute discussion about SOPA. Next time, I swear I'm in a band.