SXSW 2001: A GEEK’S-EYE-VIEW

"Where are you? What are you gonna see tonight? I have no idea where we're going. OK, we're gonna go have some drinks. Where do you think? OK, call me before you go."

As reliable as Christmas carols in December, these are the phrases of March in Austin, spoken into the scores of chirping, whirring, buzzing, "Also Sprach Tharathustra"-thundering cellies that connect the weasel throngs at South By Southwest.

The consensus among said weasels this year (as well as among the only other source to be trusted, the cab drivers) is that the conference is lighter this year. Sixth Street, the main drag of music venues—usually a mad crush of indie-rock enthusiasts, gawkers and the occasional junior A&R exec who somehow escapes the besotted backslappery (and backstabbery) in the Four Seasons bar—was remarkably easy to traverse on Thursday night. Where WAS everybody?

Yes, attendance is down in the '01. But you wouldn't know it from the crush at attorney Fred Davis' yearly confab, the Columbia gala or Interscope's outdoor hip-hop extravaganza at Stubb's, where even the rhythmically impaired hopped to the beat, just to keep warm. Not to mention the bill-tossing hordes at Sugar's Uptown Cabaret.

Nor did you sense the decline in attendance during Wheels & Deals-championed, Nashville-based artist Will Hoge's set of adrenalized pub-rock at the Copper Tank—which boosted the moods of bizzers and punters alike.

Within the convention center, meanwhile, the same old debates rage on. Indie types seethe through industry panels, waiting for a chance to give the evil corporate music world a piece of their minds. And what a small piece it often is. Kids from godawful unsigned bands (see last year's EAT'M Report) line up to passive-aggressively berate and entreat the talent-finders. Radio sages fend off questions about their narrow playlists by attesting to their passion for music.

Of course, everyone has an opinion on Napster—and the odds are you've already heard it.

Speaking of the tech sphere, the doldrums were perceptible everywhere. The "Digital Music Business Models 2.0" confab mentioned in Dave Simutis' dispatch was enlivened almost singlehandedly by the perspective of ex-HITS/MP3.com/ICast dude Joe Fleischer, who's now independently engaging, with his company, Crush, in both digital and offline ventures (another common thread this year). He described the major labels' attempts at digital distribution as "hilarity" but acknowledged the necessity of working with them and underlined data-mining as the essence of online enterprise. Uplister's Jeremy Silver, meanwhile, memorably characterized the short-lived net boom thusly: "A whole bunch of idiots got money to do idiotic things."

Well, Jeremy, the idiots ain't done yet, if a tour of the exhibit hall was any indication. Yessir, despite the catastrophic climate for dot-coms, an array of digital headscratchers were hawking their wares. How did they get funding? How do they expect to make money? The answers are lost in the blur of P.T. Barnum-esque showmanship, geekspeak and non-disclosure agreements. In any case, it's clear that even if the gold rush has ended, the flow of prospectors hasn't quite dried up. Want to play "virtual" guitar on a tennis racket, karaoke style, to "Born To Be Wild"? Dude's got the hook-up.

More than anything else, the depressed climate for online music is an indicator of the virtually inexhaustible optimism of its community. And "community" is still a buzzword, as ubiquitous as the belief that the web will eventually liberate music from the shackles of consolidated radio and its intractable formats. The major differences: Everyone admits it will take a while, and most seem to agree that the major labels will remain a primary force.

And in the short term, the weather's clear, the sun glints on the river and the sweet, sweet booze keeps flowing. Speaking of major labels as a primary force, who's buying this round?