Houston Music Blog

As you may already know if you followed Rocks Off's copious ACL coverage, Austin's Zilker Park is a muddy ruin. We use the term "muddy" loosely, as much of the turf churned into muck by dancing festival-goers was a substance called "Dillo Dirt," which is part recycled sewage. As a salute to the brown soup created by the City of Austin's efforts to go green, we've put together a slideshow of album covers featuring dirt, mud and, of course, poop. Enjoy!

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Photos by Mark C. Austin

Kate Pierson of the B-52's

​You could roam, as the B-52s put it during their early afternoon set Sunday on the AMD Stage. But as Mudstock 2009 came to a close (let the debate about the later-in-the-year dates begin) most members of the muddy-stocking clan were losing their lightness of step. Happy faces were still abundant, however, and the artists recognized that anybody willing to stick it out through the stench in the trenches deserved nothing less than the best.

Sparkled in the sunlight, the honeyed harmonies Kate Pierson and Cindy Wilson were one more gift. Meanwhile, a stick in the mud could have done worse than alternate between AMD and XBox 360 in the park's western corner before queuing up for Pearl Jam at sundown.

The two stages offered up a stew of British-based whippets. One revelation was the White Lies, the latest in this year's parade of Bunnymen echoers. Giving credit where's its due, led by young Harry McVeigh, the lads dressed in matching black dress shirts and black jeans shrugged off the swelter with a danceable swagger. "We're from the UK," said McVeigh, "we're not used to this heat, we're used to the rain."

Mark C. Austin

Seems like we recognize this guy from somewhere...

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More and more, Aftermath uses ACL more than SXSW to see which recent buzz bands are worth their salt, and of course to check on how some old favorites are doing. This year, tops on our new-to-us list were Blitzen Trapper, who managed to condense most of the late '60s and early '70s - Dylan, the Dead, CSNY and a lot more besides - into their hour-long set Friday, and MuteMath, neighbors from New Orleans whose echoing guitar, propulsive rhythms and spacious vocals made them a sort of junior U2 shortly before the rains came Saturday.

Not far behind were Phoenix, who energetically outdistanced their "French Strokes" tag with super-catchy indie-pop leavened with disco and even a little Bo Diddley; and White Lies, Londoners whose elegantly gloomy, spacious, melodic post-punk rivaled MuteMath for sheer scale - especially on closer "Death" - and made the Arctic Monkeys, who followed them, seem like yesterday's NME news.

Mark C. Austin

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Night fell on the Austin City Limits Music Festival at Zilker Park this past Sunday under a full moon and over a sea of mud. (It wasn't strictly mud, but more on that in a bit.) Many in the crowd, especially those in the proximity of the Dell stage, responded the only logical way possible - by dancing, or something close to it.

Since the squishy, slippery ground made it a little difficult to move your feet - people weren't so much walking through the grounds at this point as gingerly creeping - Spearhead stepped in to pick up the slack. The Michael Franti-led Bay Area band has never let sizable social conscience interfere with its mission to move the crowd, and its high-energy combination of rap, rock, reggae and R&B (and a little salsa and dancehall) had hands up and bodies moving from note one, and sparked a fascinating phenomenon Aftermath will remember forever after as the "electric mudslide."

Photos by Mark C. Austin

​From the Austin American-Statesman comes word that Zilker Park, which hosted the three-day Austin City Limits Music Festival this weekend, will have to remain closed until the end of the month. Why? Because ACL more or less destroyed the park.

For the next 25 or so days, the City of Austin will be hard at work cleaning the filthy festival grounds and replanting all the luscious green sod that was obliterated by the thundering herds of crowds, the tractors and trailers hauling gear, rigging and equipment and the torrential rain that turned Zilker Park into the greatest mud-wrestling arena known to man on Saturday afternoon. The well-meaning placing of fresh hay into the trampled, fertilizer-soaked mud on Sunday morning added an overall barnyard aesthetic -- both visually and in the olfactory sense -- that only meant an increase in the post-festival clean up activities and the smell that began to permeate the city.

Austin residents aren't taking the news very well. A sampling of the comments section from the article reveals that at least some people have had enough of ACL for good:

Photos by Groovehouse

​Of all the bands at ACL this year, Ghostland Observatory and Girl Talk competed heavily against one another for the most visually compelling acts. But because we can see lasers down at the Pink Floyd show at the planetarium just about any old time, our vote goes to Girl Talk.

​Complete with requisite handfuls of confetti, wild dancing on stage (by both Gregg Gillis and hundreds of his frenzied audience members), buckets of sweat and streaming ribbons of toilet paper shot  into the air on jury-rigged leaf blowers, Girl Talk held the crowd's attention even against the awe-inspiring Pearl Jam concert that was taking place across the park towards the end.

Enjoy some of our favorite Girl Talk shots below.

Photos by Mark C. Austin

​It only took one song in to Pearl Jam's Sunday night closing set at the Austin City Limits music festival for it to dawn on Rocks Off that for way too long this band has been forsaken by back-handed hipster discount and radio-influenced apathy. No band from the grunge-era is still honing their craft as well, and continues to thoughtfully subvert their own musical journey as much as Pearl Jam.

Opening with "Why Go" from Ten, the band wasn't just firing on all cylinders they were damn near reinventing the bastard before our very eyes. Lead singer Eddie Vedder has aged finely like the wine he swills constantly onstage, turning from the young, lithe and angsty surfer boy he was for the band's debut album into a seasoned lion of a frontman of forty-four years he is now. His voice has gotten huskier and more mature without losing that classic howl you heard on the band's watershed single "Jeremy", a song they thankfully didn't play last night. Instead we heard that trademark bellow on the new "Got Some" from this fall's Backspacer.

Guitarists Mike McCready and Stone Gossard still manage to create new paths for the bands songs to wander down, seemingly finding ways to make them harder and bluesier live. One could hear Jeff Ament's bass reverb all over the grounds, even as the Girl Talk dance-party rages hundreds of yards away, and Matt Cameron continues to be one of the best rock drummers of the past thirty years. He occupies rarefied air with people like Dave Grohl, who have done time for a multitude of alternative rock projects. He previously did time in Skin Yard and Soundgarden.

Photos by Mark C. Austin

​Pearl Jam closed out this year's ACL with aplomb, the audience stretching nearly the entire length of Zilker Park to see Eddie Vedder and the seminal band while nostalgically recalling large portions of the 1990s as songs like "Daughter" and "Evenflow" washed over the crowd.

Halfway through the concert, Vedder brought Ben Harper -- who had earlier played to a packed crowd on the AMD Stage at 6 p.m. -- on stage for a rendition of "Alive." Pearl Jam further thrilled the audience by delivering an encore with none other than Perry Farrell of Jane's Addiction, as they sang Jane's "Mountain Song" to a raucous and riotously happy crowd.

Enjoy the photos (and video!) from ACL's final act below.

Photo by Mark C. Austin

Dan Auerbach

​As we wait for the final day of ACL coverage to roll in, enjoy some of our favorite shots from the festival below.

Photos by Mark C. Austin

David Garza

​So, what happens to freshly laid grass in a public park after a day full of rain and thousands of people walking back and forth across it at the same time? Well, as anyone who was present for Day Three of Austin City Limits Festival 2009 (ACL) could tell you, it turns into a big muddy, stinking, sloppy mess, one with the power to swallow shoes and small children whole. The stories from this day will mostly revolve around how people were able to survive the conditions at Zilker Park without becoming a drunken bog monster, but Aftermath braved it all (including the projected 80 percent chance of rain, which thankfully never showed up), because the music is just that damn important.

Our day began at the Austin Ventures stage where we enjoyed the sounds of David Garza. It's been awhile since we've had the opportunity to hear this long-standing Austin singer-songwriter ply his trade, and it was nice to hear that he hasn't lost any of his chops. His 40-minute set featured an energetic version of soulful pop-rock that was laced with Latin flavors and Texas blues, and was an overall good fit for the tempo, feel, and mood of ACL. At one point, Garza looked out across the mud pit that passed for the grass where the crowd was eating up his music to declare, "Thanks for joining me here today. This is the coolest stage at the festival, even if we don't have the crazy big screen."

Photos by Groovehouse

​Ain't nothing like barn-burning metal and mud to begin your day, as Clutch began their blues metal assault at 2 p.m. just as most people were showing up to begin their dingy journey. Gotta love a man and his beard. It's like a Lassie that doesn't run away.

More photos from the barn-burner below the jump...

Photos by Groovehouse

​Fresh off a gig in Houston on Thursday night, the Heartless Bastards won the hearts (see what we did there?) of the ACL crowd on the Dell Stage.

More shots from the show below...

Photos by Groovehouse

​Just weeks after the release of their new Humbug, the Arctic Monkeys hit the AMD stage at mid-afternoon with a newly grungy sound reminiscent of Primal Scream and somehow, hairy period Kinks.

Photo by Groovehouse

​Balloons and flags have been the method of choice for identifying your party at ACL. Some have been bland ("I'm underneath the rainbow flag!") and some seasonal ("We're under the giant Ghostbusters balloon!"). And then there was The Shocker.

The addition of mud to the pinky finger was a subtle if tasteful addition. Well done, gentlemen. Well done.

Photo by Groovehouse

​That's...uh...a snazzy look you've got there, guy. What are those, Y-fronts? Did you dye those yourself? Because the pink really highlights your nipples.

We're afraid the dude behind you doesn't quite agree with us, though. But who is he to judge? He's wearing white after labor day. At least you're safe in your pink Underoos.

Armed with our sort-of handy cellphone we were able to Tweet from ground level at the festival, with sometimes hilarious and vulgar results. Mostly the latter, because we are foul people. Over time, our Twitter updates devolved into angry rants, as you will see below.

@hprocksoff sez:

Oh god they really did fix the grass out on Zilker. I wanna take acid and lay on it for years.

Beatles Rock Band is set up in a tent by Xbox360. Thanks for copping our hustle, you dicks.

Some of these cats at Coheed couldn't get more stoned if they were found guilty of adultery in the Bible.

Mind Eraser No Chaser. Grohl is in full Animal mode. You haven't seen this since In Utero.

Washington Ave puked all over the Kings Of Leon set. Surrealz ya'll.

Just saw me and Mr. Chris Gray on the local access channel. "This mohawked man..." they called him. I looked like a 70's porno cop.

Photos by Mark C. Austin

​An unexpected guest showed up yesterday afternoon at the Austin Ventures Stage with Austin-by-way-of-Louisiana slide guitar hotshot Papa Mali. The Grateful Dead's Bill Kreutzman was backing up the dreadlocked Mali on drums.

Photos by Katharine Shilcutt

The Toadies meet the mud

​Media "tent" is misleading, actually. Part of the Rocks Off team has spent the better part of the three days of ACL inside the media area, attempting to identify smaller, more unknown bands as they traipse through like Roma, wrapping our laptops inside garbage bags to guard them from the rain, fighting for space on the mud-covered overloaded power strips, bringing our own toilet paper from the hotel because there is never any inside the port-a-loos and keeping thick sap and insects out of our keyboards.

Photo by Katharine Shilcutt

​It was almost like being back in Houston: Sunday was sticky and steamy as Rocks Off arrived at Zilker Park around noon, and the only way we knew we could make it through was with a stiff straight shot of Southern soul. Luckily, Black Joe Lewis & the Honeybears were first up on the AMD stage.

Complete with coordinated choreography, Lewis and the Honeybears came out with guitars and horns blazing, updating Clifton Chenier by way of Sonny Boy Williamson on "Big Booty Baby," and slipping into the darkness of War-style funk on a new song and "Baby I'm Broke," complete with Houston's own Ian Varley giving his organ a workout; he's studied his Jimmy Smith well.

Photo by Craig Hlavaty

​White Dress opened for the Heartless Bastards on Thursday night in Houston, while we were at Them Crooked Vultures in Austin. We finally got to catch them just a few minutes back and sweet mama was it nice. The Austin-based band, led by the raven-haired Arum Rae, kicked the mud off our shoes with a quick set of bluesy PJ Harvey snarl. As the kids on the Hands Up Houston message board say: NOICE. We aren't just saying that because she looks like one of our tattoos. We don't think.

Of the many Twitter updates coming in from ACL over the weekend, this one in particular caught our eye:

@keepaustinwierd: ~Trash Bag $2 ~Poncho $5 ~ACL 3 day pass $180 ~ Ridin' a Slip n' Slide made of trash bags at ACL ~ PRICELESS!

The update came with the following video, which brightened our otherwise dreary Saturday afternoon:

It's hard to hate a festival that makes its own slip 'n' slide, after all. One more shot of slippery goodness is below the jump.

Photo by Katharine Shilcutt

​Yeah, we appreciate the offer - especially the tasteful way you've written it on a giant cardboard penis - but we think we'll tastefully decline today. Good luck at the festival though, dude.

Photo by Craig Hlavaty

No, that is not Rocks Off.

​At this point Rocks Off is so jaded from mud, rain, bro-dudes, and janky taxi-cab politics that Eddie Vedder himself could be standing before us and we wouldn't know him from Adam Lambert. As Willem Dafoe said in Platoon "The worm has turned for you, my friend."

Yesterday was a barrage of little bitty stinging rain, big ol' fat rain, and sometimes rain even seemed to come straight up from underneath. With the rain came mud, starting with sporadic puddles of the goop until it became a full-on headlining act apart from the music. During afternoon sets by Bon Iver, Flogging Molly, and Grizzly Bear, crowds got involuntary showers. Across the park grounds all one would see were a blanket of umbrellas and garsig-colored panchos. Rocks Off stupidly wore a cotton hoodie that became more of a second moist skin than comfort item.

More photos of the mud-induced chaos are below.

Photos by Mark C. Austin

​One word: LASERS. Enjoy the spectacle below.

Photos by Katharine Shilcutt

​We're just saying. The shirtless look really isn't for everyone.

​And while you're at it, broseph, tell you girlfriend to pull up her board shorts so we don't all have to look at her asscrack while we're trying to jam to Black Joe Lewis. Thanks.

This goes for the rest of you, too...

Photo by Mark C. Austin

​If there's one band Rocks Off didn't envy during Saturday's ACL downpour - seriously, Zilker Park smells like a stable today, moreso because the staff just finished seeding the mud-splattered grounds with hay - it was the Decemberists. The Portland collective closed out Saturday on the Dell stage clad in full-on church attire - three-piece suits for the men; long, flowing gowns of both black and white for the women. Just the kind of attire you want to be caught in at a muddy music festival - and Rocks Off lucked into an artist's wristband this year, and that quadrant of Zilker may be the muddiest of all.

Before the best stage backdrop we've seen so far at ACL - tendrils of nylon lit in an eldritch light green, resembling a ghostly medieval forest - the Decemberists played this year's ambitious, anachronistic (to put it mildly) folk-rock opera The Hazards of Love straight through Saturday night. Rocks Off wasn't sure how much of the storyline (a florid tale of love denied and discovered), but we did see people in the crowd singing along.

Strumming furiously, by turns mystical and heavy, the band alternated ponderous, fuzzy power chords with ethereal, steel-heavy, countryish ballads like the well-dressed offspring of Jethro Tull and the Arcade Fire (the only other band we've ever seen at ACL dressed like they're going to a, well, funeral). The heavier passages completely shattered the acoustic calm, as the lady in the white gown vocalized like Enya, steadily building towards a grandiose climax and equally pastoral denouement. It was lilting and sinister, an island of elegance in a morass of mud and exhaustion.

Levon Helm's doctor must have the patience of a saint. The former Band drummer underwent surgery to remove polyps in his throat barely a week ago, but instead of canceling Saturday's ACL appearance, he ceded vocal duties to several members of his plus-size band, including leader Larry Campbell, keyboardist Brian Mitchell, Allison Krauss soundalike Teresa Williams and Helm's daughter Amy.

Even then, Rocks Off glanced up at the stage more than once and caught the spry Helm singing along, once during lively Cajun shuffle "Hurry Up" and again after he moved over to mandolin for a swinging, ragtime-flavored version of "Deep Ellum Blues" that featured an honest-to-God tuba. The rest of the time, the spry, rail-thin Arkansan was grinning from ear to ear as he whacked his drums like a 25-year-old.

Photo by Mark C. Austin

​Was it something we said or did? Aftermath openly gushed about how great the weather was on Friday and how it seemed that maybe, just maybe, we were going to finally attend an Austin City Limits (ACL) that didn't consist of heat and dust. Well, it seems that the powers-the-be misunderstood what our words of thankfulness and decided to perpetuate the lack of oppressive heat and dust by having it rain all day long. As in, Aftermath arrived at Zilker Park just after noon on Saturday and we can't remember a time all day and night long where the grounds were without any sort of active rainfall for more than ten minutes. We promise that we managed to find some good music throughout the day, but there were times when the conditions did put a damper on our mood (though we're not going to complain too much about the decreased crowd size).

To kick off our day, we made our way over to the Dell Stage for The Virgins. Having never heard the music of this NYC-based quintet before, we find ourselves enjoying the band's glammy, funky brand of Brit rock. Coming across as a crunchier version of The Wombats or funk-loving baby brother of Arctic Monkeys, The Virgins weren't creating anything truly new or special, these guys did feel like a more authentic version of the sort of corporate pop-punky alt-rock created by groups like All American Rejects. Aftermath will always support the sort of music that serves as a "gateway" for teenage music fans, by encouraging them to expand their musical horizons, so The Virgins, featuring a lead singer with a soulful, strident croon, receive a vote of confidence from us.

Photo by Groovehouse

Neon Indian

​Unfortunately, one of the bands we were stoked to see today, The Raveonettes, were unable to perform due to visa issues that prevented the group from traveling from its native Denmark. ACL, in its infinite wisdom, brought in the up-and-coming Denton-based act Neon Indian to fill the time slot at the Xbox 360 Stage, and we were more than pleased with the results. Powered by a rock-solid drummer and heaps of psychedelic guitar lines, this vibrant outfit performed thirty minutes of spaced-out, lo-fi, indie-approved electro-pop that showcased the lead singer's propensity for first creating a pulsating sample and then gleefully subverting it through an Akai mixer. Some might castigate the band for being dirty hipsters (the guitarist was sporting a pair of neon teal jeans tucked into a pair of oversized cowboy boots), these hungry youngsters delighted Aftermath by working in thick layers of pop-flavored prog textures into the set early and often.

Photos by Craig Hlavaty

​Look twice, that's actually a fake mullet. Homeboy has a patent on this item, which is actually a sweatband with hair woven into it. With his head-to-toe camo gear we just figured he was another red-blooded Son Of The Nuge with a characteristically questionable style.

One more photo of the masterpiece is after the jump.

Photo by Mark C. Austin

The Scabs

​That was the question on Saturday, when downpours tested the drainage properties of the newly laid Zilker Park sod to test. Curiously, with the air still warm, the crowd seemed to take the growing swamp in stride, but you have to guess that with all the muddy-buddy action (Woodstock 40, friends?) the new field is going to need some attention, stat. One of the positive side benefits of the rain was that it forced folks to check out the off-neglected space that this year has been tabbed the Wildlflower Stage, beneath a corrugated roof.

New Orleans pianist Henry Butler, a blind musician who has been instrumental in NOLA recovery efforts, blew back the storm's wet sneeze with his band. They lit up the crowd with "Iko, Iko" helping the heads find their rhythm, and boosted a firecracker version of Fats Domino's "Hello Josephine." Though ACL continues to pursue diversity (recognizing that hip hop is a bigger seller than Texas twang, nationally at least) the Wildflower sideshow still suffers from the effects of being ghettoized. Big stages are reserved for big names, sure, but would it be too much go give the reggae dudes, the jazz pianists, the West African griots and Andalucian guitar heroes better billing?

Seriously. How else to explain the appearance of Eek a Mouse, one of the Jamaican reggae kings, and a royal toaster likewise trapped in the shed instead of having an outdoor stage to call his own? Chanting "ganja, ganja, ganja" and pulling lovelies out of the crowd to join his tight outfit on stage, Eek a Mouse would have been better served by a brighter spotlight - and, let's face it, better weather. But beneath the roof of the Wildflower stage, Eek managed to start a blaze in more ways than one. Next year, let him take over the hillside.