To say our crew was tired on the morning of March 14 would be a gross understatement. We had arrived in Austin at an un-Godly hour the night prior. Having been on an absurd weeks journey, that found us on the side of the road more times than we’d like to remember. We rolled in using a ghetto-rigged-hand-crank-gas-pedal situation that somehow managed to sputter us into the Austin Convention Center in time to ready ourselves for the onslaught of bands that was about to descend upon us.
Of those bands, the Parlotones were the first to take a swing. Fitting, because of all of the bands, they traveled the farthest. They’re from South Africa. I’ll assume their plane flew in with real controls and didn’t use zip-ties to get them to Texas. They probably had jet-lag though.
Regardless, we’d all traveled to Austin with one goal in mind, a good time. Our good-time hadn’t of yet apportioned room for some rest, so we were running on fumes. Heavily alcohol scented fumes.
Have you ever woken up hung over on a Saturday morning, found that you have no real responsibilities to tend to at that time other than to turn on some relaxing music and rest off your haze? Well that was what the Parlotones did for us when they hopped inside the van. They reinvigorated us with melody. The week ahead was going to be long. Upon preparation for any intoxicating journey it’s always proper to start with a good base. At SXSW these fellas were ours.