From the Village Voice, an article by Rob Harvilla on the wonders of Sharon Jones & the Dap-Kings. As quickly, blithely, and painlessly as possible, let us now dispense with the obligatory SXSW recap.
Too much brisket. No vegetables. Splendid weather. Margarita-derived catastrophes, David Byrne sightings. T-shirts that read "Welcome to Austin—Don't Forget to Leave." Friends who decline to meet up because "I'm waiting for the drugs to take hold." (Female) cab drivers who apologize for farting. And, oh yeah, lotsa dull-ass sweet-dude indie guitar rock. "I hate music," a dear friend of mine (ostensibly in the music industry) has taken to declaring lately, often when confronted with perfectly competent but deeply boring buzz bands with names like Ghostland Observatory and Illinois. Someone please bring forth the jam.
Onto all of this, Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings dropped like a bomb.
No comments:
Post a Comment