My 3rd trip to South By Southwest was really, really intense. Every day felt like a week. Besides playing 6 Wallpaper shows in three days (with the likes of the Hot Tub, Astronautalis, A, B, and the Sea, Angie Mattson, and Bleubird), I don’t think I could have taken more music and more sound. People were out in droves, the days were hot and muggy, and unfortunately the gear did not lug itself.
One of the defining traits of SXSW in its current form is the overwhelming number and density of bands in the main festival area. It was impossible to escape the din of musicians pounding away at instruments and belting it out into microphones. This volume (in both senses) was both great and terrible. You always had a chance of randomly stumbling onto something really interesting or exciting but at the same time the sound of band after band, whether you want to hear them or not, began to desensitize me to a means of expression that can be so special. This made me think of how MMNY gets density and location just right.
While there was sometimes too much to take in, moving through the streets did give me opportunity to appreciate new soundscapes formed out of ever-changing components. Pausing on the corner of 7th St and Red River focused the buzz of the crowd on the street with the low drone of a nearby metal band and the high-pitched melody of a folk singer, accented with the pulse of helicopter blades overhead and a receding siren blocks away.

- At Bat Bar
This fluid relationship between sound and space also applied very directly to the connection between interior and exterior spaces of the festival. Exterior spaces were not only activated in their own right but were also integrated into interior spaces. For example, every time I passed by the Bat Bar with their stage directly in front of their 6th St. windows, there was a crowd both inside and also spreading onto the street, the bands enveloped on all sides by the audience.
Being at SXSW reiterated the potency and importance of MMNY’s site-specific approach. There is something very powerful about musicians adapting to new, unexpected environments and thus recontextualizing how the space and its potential are understood. SXSW was at its best when performances tapped into this relationship between performer and unexpected space. One of my favorite sets was from Brooklyn’s own Lucius, who I saw playing in a dusty parking lot, stomping on top of a picnic table in front of a truck selling Japanese street food.
UPDATED: Fixed typo