{"id":27386,"date":"2019-03-14T12:30:55","date_gmt":"2019-03-14T16:30:55","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.audiofemme.com\/?p=27386"},"modified":"2019-03-14T15:12:18","modified_gmt":"2019-03-14T19:12:18","slug":"only-noise-a-case-of-sxsw-james-blake","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.audiofemme.com\/only-noise-a-case-of-sxsw-james-blake\/","title":{"rendered":"ONLY NOISE: A Case of SXSW – James Blake Instigated My Sneaky Crimes in a Changing Austin"},"content":{"rendered":"
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All images courtesy Katie Wojciechowski.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

ONLY NOISE explores music fandom with poignant personal essays that examine the ways we\u2019re shaped by our chosen soundtrack. This week, Katie Wojciechowski<\/a> relives the SXSW she spent sneaking around to see James Blake in 2011, before she – and her hometown of Austin – underwent some major changes.<\/em><\/p>\n

I was only 19 in March of 2011, but I was already a seasoned South by Southwest attendee. I grew up in Austin, and even after leaving for college, the festival kept me in its orbit several years in a row. In the days leading up to SXSW, I scoured Twitter for updates on all-ages venues my target artists were playing – not as tough a search as it might sound, since SXSW transpires in restaurants as well as bars, on makeshift hotel lobby stages and in the corners of record stores – even, a few times, in Mellow Johnny\u2019s Bike Shop. For me, SXSW meant a glimpse into the action of the music world I so desperately wanted to be a part of – and it meant a moment to breathe freely outside the stale air of my private school environment. Each carefully-researched buzz artist I saw (or snuck in to see) was a prize I wore like a medal on my camera’s memory card. And this year, the prize on everyone’s radar was James Blake.<\/p>\n

Gracing the coveted Fader Fort bill, named “the breakout star for dubstep and a new standard bearer for electronic music itself” by NPR Music<\/a>, and hyped by all the music blogs and sites I scrupulously followed at the time: Blake was my must-see. He was the indie darling of the festival that year, playing just a few secretive shows, many of them badge-only-and certainly 21+. The only all-ages James Blake show would be happening at the French Legation Museum, whatever the ever-loving fuck that was (I would never have said ever-loving fuck at the time). I’d already snuck into several other exclusive, albeit all-ages, events that year (for instance, a media brunch with the now-defunct Civil Wars that I just walked into with a big camera; no one said a word). Nabbing a few low-level shows of bands only I cared about was one thing, but I would feel defeated and left out if I didn\u2019t catch James Blake while I was in Austin. This media favorite would be my prize kill.<\/p>\n

I was a moderate James Blake fan and, more importantly, a devotee of the blogosphere. I kept a manically close pulse on what I perceived to be the cutting edge of musical trend. Blake’s esoteric first album piqued my curiosity with its more melodic singles, like \u201cThe Wilhelm Scream.\u201d His music helped me study, accompanied me next to dewy coffee shop window condensation at the college town\u2019s late-night cafe. I was blogging about music then, passionately and often, painting the world in grossly broad strokes. But there was something about the way it made me come alive that I look back on with fondness.<\/p>\n

In truth, I liked James Blake\u2019s self-titled debut<\/a>, but I wouldn\u2019t really fall in love with his music until I heard his acoustic piano-only cover of Joni Mitchell\u2019s \u201cA Case Of You\u201d in 2013. It\u2019s a song that would accompany me through the rocky start of a first and only love, and would lead me to its original – which I didn\u2019t like at first, because Blake\u2019s cover is so god damn good – as well as its composer, one of my life\u2019s guiding lights. But for a while, there was just James, constant as a northern star.<\/p>\n