During my four days at this year's South by Southwest Music Festival, I spent far more time seeing live music than sleeping, and the closest thing to a vegetable I ate was barbeque sauce. However, what I deprived my body of in the nutrition and rejuvenation departments, I more than made up to my sonic soul. Of course my bleary eyes and weary ears weren't enough to take in everything (after all, in its fifteenth year, the Austin, Texas fest has ballooned to 900-band affair), but here are a handful of the sights and sounds that stuck out:

Paris, Texas
Judging from the sea of swaying ladies at Waterloo Brewing Company, the only thing cooler than being in a band is being in a band from Paris. And, unlike more-heralded pop hipsters from their homeland, Mellow are indeed that. Though their new album, Another Mellow Spring, feels like a electronic, cut-and-paste pastiche (a la Air), these Frenchman reproduce most every glorious note live -- even if that means that singer Patrick Woodcock has to occasionally break out a tuba. Fellow Parisians Tahiti 80 kept the sunny melodies coming, even as blistery winds threatened to rip apart the tent that encased them. As they played selections from their debut, Puzzle -- including "Mr. Davies," which they dedicated to SXSW Keynote Speaker Ray -- bassist Pedro Resende, who looks more like a Molly Hatchet roadie than Parisian popster, easily broke the Travis County head-bobbing record.

I Liked Ike
For much of America, Ike Turner = villain of What's Love Got to Do With It. To music fans, he has a place on Rock & Roll Mount Rushmore, as many recognize his "Rocket 88" as the genre's first song. After hard time off the stage (during which Turner served hard time), the seventy-year-old Turner returned to uproarious applause, and then exclaimed, "Hello Houston!" Well nobody ever said Ike was perfect, but he and his dark-pinstiped-suit-and-hat-wearin' nine-piece band sure work up a flawless groove. After dazzling the Antone's crowd with his guitar picking and piano tinkling, Ike welcomed a female singer, who is a dead ringer for . . . well, you know. Spot-on versions of Ike and Tina's "Nutbush City Limits" and "River Deep, Mountain High" ensued.

Hop on Guitar Pop
Toronto's Flashing Lights and San Francisco's Orange Peels illuminated the wood-panel-happy Buffalo Billiards during the SpinART Records showcase. The former is led by cock-rocker Matt Murphy, whose arsenal of guitar poses would make Ted Nugent envious. Aided by a slew of "do-do-do" backing vocals and occasionally hampered by a keyboard player more interested in playing tambourine, Murphy's mighty Rickenbacher answered the question, "What if Squeeze came after Nirvana?" Allen Clapp, the bespectacled Peels frontman, opted for an acoustic axe, strumming his way through blissful ditties like "San Francisco," whose warm refrain sounds like it had blown east from the southern part of the Golden State.

Down From the Mountain
For their show at the Texas Union Theater, Nashville folksters Gillian Welch and David Rawlings got co-billing. However, on their albums -- because duos are poison for marketing folks -- only Gillian's name and image appears. The above is probably why the master of ceremonies introduced them as "Gillian Welch and David Stawlings." Playing mostly a mix of new acoustic-guitar-driven new love songs (a departure from the creepy banjo-laden songs on their last album, Hell Among the Yearlings), and selections from Down From the Mountain (the tip-top documentary about the music from the movie, O Brother, Where Art Thou?), Welch proved that she can still create magic from campire chords. Rawlings is the consummate sideman, gyrating onstage like a marionette, while squeezing a flurry of notes from his six string. Next up was Austin boy Bruce Robison, easily the conference's tallest entry, who had audience members chuckling with his wry spiritual fable, "What Would Willie Do." In the song, he finds solace in knowing that Austin's most heralded songwriter is all-too-often in more dire straits. Robison's wife, Kelly Willis, joined him for a few tunes, her first appearance since recently giving birth.

The Magnificent Seven
Though they took their sweet time to get started (a faux pas during festival play), Los Super Seven delighted La Zona Rosa-goers with their broad array of South of the Border sounds. Local boy Rick Trevino took turns on lead vocals with his California compadres, among them Los Lobos' David Hildago and Cesar Rosas and the Mavericks Raul Malo. Malo, who stole the show by belting out a emotive ballad, is clearly enjoying his transformation from honky-tonker to tear-jerking crooner.

Wowee Zowee
While fellow ex-Pavement dweller Stephen Malkmus played to several hundreds at the Austin Music Hall, Scott Kannberg and his Preston School of Industry made a more inconspicuous SXSW debut. The sweater-sporting Kannberg (the artist formerly known as Spiral Stairs) led his power trio through no-nonsense rockers at daiquiri bar Fat Tuesday (home of the Buttery Nipple) during the Listen.com party. Like Malkmus' new batch of tunes, the Preston School proved pretty easy to get into. Maybe the other Pavement guys were the weirdos . . . Speaking of Pavement and parties, Pavement disciples Creeper Lagoon braved the rain to kick things off at the behemoth Revolver Magazine party. Constantly tuning and joking about their lack of a sound check, Creeper proved that even though their new record will say "Dreamworks" on it, they're still indie at heart.

BILL CRANDALL
(March 19, 2001)