SXSW: 12 bands, 12 hours of rock on Day 1

It's a lot like speed dating, this music portion of South by Southwest. The sets are very fast, they get right to the point, you take it in, then move to the next suitor. You see and hear a lot of new names, and even the familiar faces seem slightly different.

On Wednesday, I took a look at a dozen varied and exciting bands in less than 12 hours, including Quiet Company, the Shout Out Louds, Yacht, Bad Rackets, This Bike Is a Pipe Bomb, R.E.M., the Lemonheads and Ancestors.

Quickie reviews and lots of pictures after the jump.

The day started at 2:30 p.m. with a local band called Quiet Company at Light, a club on Congress. In a festival of punk, hard rock and roots rock superstars, a band like Quiet Company might easily get overlooked. In fact, any group with a piano player and a wimpy name sort of goes against the grain here, which is truly unfortunate because the depth of a band like this is what's missing in music today. Once they took care of some technical problems, the quartet, signed to Northern Records, gracefully moved through their set list beautifully atop the roof of Light. A glorious way to kick off SXSW.

Next up was the Austinist/Gothamist show at the Mohawk on Red River. Nico Vega had started the day at the packed outdoor stage; when I got there, I was greeted by a cheerful trumpet from We Barbarians and a hearty welcome from Austinist editor Allen Chen. As I made my way up the multi levels of the Mohawk (to the free beer, chips and pizza -- natch), I was able to meet USA Today blogger Whitney Matheson of Pop Candy, and several former cohorts (Andy Sternberg, Ken Basart, Sloane Berrent) from LAist.

Shearwater made it through its set without raising any eyebrows and the Shout Out Louds did their best Cure imitation, and it was time to get back to the street.

One of the best venues to see some of the bands with the best buzz is the Levi's Fader Fort, once home of the MTV "Real World" house. The good news is that the "fort" is totally interesting, has great bands, the bar is stocked with free booze and it even has some Levi's-inspired rooms inside to trip out in.

The bad news is that everyone wants to be in there and many aren't sure if they have made it onto the RSVP list, so the entrance line stretches around the block. "No plus ones," the bouncers yell as they march up and down the line. "If you are on the list, YOU get to get in, NOT your friends."

Dance duo Yacht had just hit the stage when I arrived.

He sings, she dances and sorta adds a little, but was there any substance? Any great dance moves? Any humor? Not really. It's not bad for what it is, but not amazing. But once someone's seen Har Mar Superstar, you've really gotta do something impressive to pull off the singing-over-backing tracks thing. Whatever that thing is.

The thing is there are bands everywhere. It's almost biblical, as in the plagues. Instead of locusts and frogs being in the rivers and cupboards and roads, there are bands in the streets and on the roofs and in the alleys.

If you can do your thing unplugged, you can play anywhere, like this marvelous bluegrass ensemble:

After a quick meal, it was time for the Bad Rackets at Red Eyed Fly on Red River. It's a club that has a huge side door that makes you feel like you're outside.

Last year, Peter, Bjorn and John had us yawning through their not-hit single; this year, the local Heartbreakers/New York Dolls-ish band made us wonder why the drummer doesn't just fire everyone and start over. The Bad Rackets show was so weak and sad that it almost made us lose our PBR buzz.

The polar opposite of those retreads was the Florida trio This Bike Is a Pipe Bomb: creative, unique punk rock starring a hot bass player who sings at the guitarist, and a guitarist who appears to have so much stage fright that he refuses to look anywhere near the crowd. And he straps on a harmonica for that country-punk flava that you forgot how much you loved.

Meanwhile, the drummer doles out one rock cliche after another. It didn't matter -- the Elysium crowd ate it all up, myself included, and they slam-danced and crowd-surfed, and set the mood for the Slits, who were scheduled to close the night. Great band, great crowd, good times.

There was no good reason to see R.E.M. They haven't released a good record in more than a decade, and SXSW is a celebration of new bands and up-and-comers. Also, in order to get a good spot to see them in the huge backyard at Stubb's Bar-B-Que you have to arrive early and wait and wait and wait as Austin rocks. But since I was right next door, I figured what the hell.

I ate some barbecue brisket on a bun, drank several reasonably priced High Life tall boys, caught up with friends, met some Irish boys who'd traveled thousands of miles to be here, followed the action about town that was being Twittered, and finally experienced R.E.M. in a slightly more intimate venue than the Hollywood Bowl, where they will play later this year.

Michael Stipe was surprisingly energetic, funny and his voice was strong. (Read Ann Powers' review of the show here.) Why was I surprised? Because I just saw This Bike Is a Pipe Bomb and they ruled, that's why! Stipe, a vegan, explained that he had never been to Stubb's before and proceeded to rock through a nice collection of older numbers and new tunes that weren't bad at all. Life really is a rich pageant, I guess.

R.E.M. might have been on longer than an hour, but I couldn't wait for their encore. The Lemonheads were rumored to be playing the entire "It's a Shame About Ray" at Emo's Annex, you see.

The Annex is basically a cross between some leftover land that probably is a small parking lot when SXSW isn't in town, and an alley. Emo's puts a fence around it and a tent above the crowd and band, but you can see the stage from Red River. Only about 150 people can get in, but that was OK, because an additional 100 can see and hear perfectly well from outside, where I was. Happily. Gleefully. The title track and "My Drug Buddy" almost seemed better leaning up against a tree -- literally -- on the corner of 6th and Red River. And it was very nice to hear people sing along to the 1992 classic, soon to be reissued on Rhino.

Even though it was 1 a.m., the good vibes from those last three shows kept me going. I wanted to see one more band, but I didn't know where to go. On one side of the street, the kids were lined up to check out The Black Keys; on the other, people were lined up for someone else, but through the fog, I heard a dirty, scary, evil sound coming out of Bourbon Rocks.

Turned out it was Ancestors ending the night of the Tee Pee Records showcase. Tee Pee is the home of the J Mascis side project Witch (in which the greatest guitarist alive plays drums).

Witch looks like two nephews of ZZ Top (very short blond hair, creepy long beards and poker faces) on guitar and bass, two dudes with their backs to the crowd on keyboards (one plays organ, the other does special effects and noise) and a drummer in the middle of it all keeping it raw.

When I arrived, the gritty, demonic rhythms had seduced a local music fan, who continually threw up the devil horns and danced drunkenly to the mostly instrumental hard rock laced with soot, brimstone and church organ. It was awesome. Truly the reason to stay out late at SXSW.

And that was just Day 1.

-- Photos and post by Tony Pierce