35 Conferette: Day Three

It is a historical fact that Abraham Lincoln was one loop pedal away from reaching his full potential – before delivering the Gettysburg address, he famously bemoaned his lack of the ability to “layer bawdy limericks upon lustrous beats in a manner befitting one of considerable virility.” Reggie Watts, on the other hand, has a loop pedal. He, along with Big Freedia, Local Natives, and many more, worked feverishly to keep energy levels high in their stalwart fans on Day Three of 35 Conferette.

Holding a four-day festival is a demanding exercise, a truth that by the third day had begun manifesting itself in the dull eyes and haggard gaits of those running and covering it. Many of the musicians and press (including myself) will pack up their gear on Sunday just in time to drive to Austin for another week of, well, work.

How do they do it? If they’re one of the few who aren’t tethered to some post, they stand in front of someone like Reggie Watts for a few minutes, and the caffeine-saturated sludge that was once their blood decides it can handle perhaps one more go around. One, you say? Doesn’t Reggie Watts have a loop pedal? Ah.

Reggie’s fans were hungry, and dude can break some bread. Trying to reach the photo pit was, in practice, a dissolution of that pesky western notion of “personal space”.  There was jumping, thumping, dancing, and a hell of a lot of cheering. He even came out for the first encore I’d seen this festival, fans chanting like overgrown chicks awaiting the rest of their meal. Reggie obliged.

Big Freedia was another big draw, the New Orleans “Bounce” musician whose stage show includes a lot of rump-shaking and not-so-veiled references to her various sexual exploits. Consider one of her most popular tracks, “I got that gin in my system / somebody gonna be my victim”. Indeed.

If anything can shake me out of a tired stupor, it’s a man-turned-woman rapper with three dancers on stage rapping (with great fluency, I might add) about sexual indiscretion. That, ladies and gentlemen, is a spectacle. I turned my now-wide eyes to the Main Stage for Local Natives, who played a great set to yet another massive crowd. The numbers were obviously up from Thursday and Friday, likely due to that whole “job” thing.

As evening waxed, Tiger Darrow played an intimate and very enjoyable set on the patio of Dan’s Silverleaf while Inside, Dust Congress thumped out songs that sounded as if they were penned in Boston’s ale-houses circa 1790.

Over at Andy’s Bar, Sans Soleil was cooking up an intriguing blend of noise rock and folk. By the time I had covered a few interviews and returned to Andy’s, Esben and the Witch had taken the stage. Maybe it’s the fact that I was bone-weary, maybe I came in during a bad time, but the sound of three people striking chunky accents (one on a sort of timpani) while chanting “Keep drowning your dog…” didn’t sit well (see video). Based on what I’ve heard online, I’d like to give them another shot.

In the wee hours of the morning,  John Grant finished off the third day of the Conferette at Dan’s Silverleaf with Midlake backing him up. The history between John and the gents of Midlake spoke in the performance, the musicians working fluidly through John’s work.

Soon it will be Day Four, the final battle. Ever heard of Dan Deacon? Dear Human? We’re not done yet, folks.