SAMANTHA PROMISLOFF

Music festival suffers from mass production

Austin entertained, but Athens remains musical home for fan

By: SAMI PROMISLOFF

Posted: 3/18/08

When I was in seventh grade, I lived the dream of nearly every American girl with an imagination: top-notch dress-up chest, and heart of gold - or ruby. I stood on stage in gingham and pigtails as Dorothy in "The Wizard of Oz."

It's the timeless tale of the girl who follows her dreams to travel through a fantastical land encountering friends and foes, good and evil, truth and lies, only to find there's no place like home.

For my senior year spring break, I had the chance to reprise the crowning achievement of my retired musical theater career by spending a week in the musical and multimedia land of Oz known as Austin, Texas, to attend the South by Southwest Conference and Festival.

I donned boots instead of ruby slippers to brave the badge-bearing entertainment industry heavyweights sauntering up and down Austin's Sixth Street and surrounding areas.

On the surface, SXSW is a dream come alive for anyone who has ever loved or appreciated music of any kind. Over 1,000 acts of different musical calibers and styles from around the world play around the clock in every crevice of a major metropolitan city for five days straight.

We all know how Dorothy conquers her dream world as she sashays into Emerald City, but then there's the startling and sad realization about the little man behind the big scene. Embracing this reality in Austin was no different.

Not only is it impossible to see everyone you want during the week in Austin, but every act has to apply and pay fees to appear in an official conference showcase.

Without these connections, artists are left with little room to create opportunities for themselves throughout the conference. Even to be an attendee, badges cost upwards of $1,000. Waiting in line for the greater part of your days is included in the cost of admission.

SXSW is unprecedented and entertaining, but it's evident it represents the modern music industry. Living the dream is daunting due to unjust amounts of denial and limitations people face when they're low on money, but rich with passion.

Moreover, in this event's 21st year of existence, it was tragically apparent it no longer resembled the haven for bands to break out through. "Indie" has become a brand as bold as a fast food chain.

SXSW has become sellout central. The streets were littered with Converse, American Apparel, keffiyah scarf-sporting hipsters, supporting a community that's supposed to pride itself on being homespun, while they attend "secret" warehouse parties sponsored by corporate media, alcohol manufacturers and MySpace.com. Granted, it is a community, but it's one that's become cunning, cutthroat and strewn with kitsch. I went into SXSW expecting some of this sheep-and-flock dynamic, but not to the mass-produced extent that had overrun the city.

Indie-rock has evolved and immersed itself into the mainstream music industry. In the 2008 age of technology, celebrity and bigger-and-better, it's blatantly clear "indie" will never be what it once was.

Sure, I was sad to have left SXSW without stumbling upon any especially outstanding new musical discoveries, but I'm ecstatic to crave something more than bragging rights about bands I saw and socialized with. I've got the insatiable desire to devote my life to embracing this crazy music industry machine, eventually breaking it down and bringing it back to a place that's pure and passionate.

I attended SXSW this year without credentials or official access and had the time of my life living off the thrills of cheating the system, crossing invisible and unavoidable boundaries and making my presence known by seeing past the charade - by believing in the purity and passion of personal relationships and avoiding the disillusionment associated with integrated marketing and industry sludge.

Learning something on spring break seems sacrilegious, but with my powers of heart, brain and courage combined I could leave Austin with a greater sense of purpose and stories that people cannot believe.

I shared hugs and conversation with My Morning Jacket lead singer Jim James on a street corner at sunset and later watched him play guitar and sing over my head with local heroes The Whigs opening.

I got shuffled into the backstage of a Lou Reed tribute show and brushed shoulders with the man himself, Sonic Youth lead singer Thurston Moore, Moby, Dr. Dog and The Black Keys. I witnessed Wee Man from "Jackass" play a promotional tool at a party, in a cape and sombrero with a similarly dressed entourage. All triumphant, heartwarming, weird and wonderful.

How was it so effortless? I found the key to my happiness just like Dorothy. She confides it perfectly to the Tin Man before returning to Kansas: "If I ever go looking for my heart's desire again, I won't look any further than my own backyard."

It's because I represented the genuine and glowing college town of Athens, Ga.: the bands that work tirelessly to come together no matter the circumstance, the passionate people they trust to take care of their careers and the reputation built from the relationship. Athens is at the helm of something real.

SXSW is over and my story ends like America's sweetheart's as she awakes from her journey: manic, overwhelmed, trying to find words to explain what she's learned and where she's been. But most of all, I'm privileged and empowered to say there's really no place like home.

- Sami Promisloff is a variety writer for The Red & Black. She is convinced Lou Reed is small enough to fit in her pocket.