Lost in Austin

I'm not from Kansas City, nor have I ever been there. I'll admit that I've never even considered visiting, if you press me on the issue. No reason, really, other than that I don't eat barbecue (I'm a vegetarian), the pro basketball team left years ago (to Sacramento -- that's gotta sting) and I already live in one landlocked city in a red state (Dallas).

So when it comes to the Kansas City area -- specifically, the bands from there -- I am pretty much a blank slate: Here I am now; entertain me. I suspect that's one of the reasons why I was assigned to cover the KC contingent at this year's South by Southwest (SXSW) Music Festival in Austin, Texas. Of course, it didn't hurt that I was already going and the Pitch's music guys were indisposed. Whatever the reason, I was on the KC beat. Which was kind of a lonely place to be. Not only did I not know much about the Kansas City music scene before heading to Austin; neither did anyone I knew. The standard response when I mentioned that I was going to see the Golden Republic on Saturday night at Antone's: "Huh. They're from Kansas City? That's weird."

Yet somehow, during much of the time I spent in Austin, I was surrounded by people from Kansas City, and I don't mean musicians. My best friend's wife is from Kansas City, and she was there, along with her best friend, her best friend's sister, her cousin and another friend, all of whom live or have lived recently in Kansas City. That worked out in my favor more than a few times, especially when it came to Doris Henson.

I missed the band's set early Wednesday night at the Velvet Spade Patio because I was waiting in line at the convention center to pick up the badge that would (theoretically) get me into all of the SXSW-affiliated shows. I waited an hour; as it turns out, I got off easy. Some people had to wait two hours or longer, including the guy who sent me this text message: "The last time I waited this long was on a bread line in the Ukraine." The line choking the hallway at the convention center was like the war we're in right now in Iraq: It seemed like it would be no big deal at first, then grew more and more protracted and ended up costing more than a few lives. At least it felt that way when the older bald guy behind me began extolling the virtues of has-been guitarist Ronnie Montrose.

Missing Doris Henson's early Friday-afternoon set at Trophy's Bar and Grill was all my fault. Because it wasn't a SXSW venue and was a bit off the beaten path, Trophy's was pretty much impossible for me to find. That's a shame, because once I got back to Dallas and checked out the band's Web site, I realized I'd totally missed out. But one of the KC crew (Marisa Bode, my best friend's wife's best friend's sister) totally did not. She has more aptitude for directions, apparently.

"It was a great show, decent turnout and very enjoyable," Bode says. "I have probably seen every single one of their shows, minus just a few, since the inception of the band. And I can say from that standpoint that they played consistent to every show I have attended, but this time with a little something special."

Good thing, too, because the Trophy's gig brought out some important industry types, including folks from the band's booker, Kork Agency, who were otherwise occupied running their own showcase (with Enon and Magnolia Electric Co.) when the group played Wednesday night.

I was able to pull it together to see a tag-team bill capping off Friday night at Habana Calle 6: A. Graham and the Moment Band and Ghosty. Couldn't miss this time -- the ad hoc venue (I'd bet the restaurant doesn't host more than a handful of shows the other 361 days of the year) was next door to my hotel. Because it was somewhat removed from most of the action on Sixth Street, where the bulk of the showcases were --and, let's be honest, neither band was getting much buzz -- there was no line to get in and no reason to jockey for position once inside. It was actually kind of refreshing; many of the other venues featured double-digit wait times and rugby scrums inside.

The music was refreshing as well. If we're still being honest, I'll admit that I didn't think much of Andy Graham's band when it was setting up. "Looks like an average bar band," I wrote in my notebook. But the songs were better than I would have imagined, the kind of gritty pop that should be more widely loved but unfortunately isn't. "The heart of rock is alive and beating in Austin," Graham said between songs, and it was tough to disagree. Of course, the crowd was so small, I could have convened the lot of them to debate the point. But Graham still had a good time in Austin, even if, as he says, "the food and drinks were more memorable than the music."