AUSTIN, TEX. - Day one of indie rock's answer to spring break had a decidedly international flavour.
There was the very serviceable free Mexican food, for a start. The U.K. content was supplied by the somewhat geriatric Echo and the Bunnymen imported for Blender magazine's surprisingly deadly late-night party. The New Zealanders were busy serving up free wine and toasting the Kiwi talent that's travelled across the globe to get here. Even the locals didn't seem all that local - Austin's own Voxtrot sounding more Scottish than Texan.
But mostly, there were Canadians. Lots and lots of Canadians.
Having completed the endless registration process and needing to get my bearings, I took a stroll along the Sixth Street strip -- an impressive hub of bars and clubs that's sort of like Bourbon Street for music nerds. I'd barely started before finding Toronto's Magneta Lane playing one of the festival's first sets outside Emo's, one of the strip's bigger venues.
The girls seemed a little nervous, which was understandable since half their audience was busy chowing down on tamales and the other half was expectantly waiting for the band to prove itself the Next Big Thing. But when I stumbled onto another Magneta Lane set a couple of hours later, they were considerably more self-assured.
That might have been because of the copious amounts of booze they'd been consuming, but it probably also had something to do with their audience looking like it had been imported from the Horseshoe. Taking over one of the two main tents by the convention centre, an assortment of Canadian industry types had congregated to launch the inexhaustible supply of homegrown acts that have made the trek.
Some of that event's performers - which also included Swollen Members, Pilate, the Golden Dogs and the High Dials -- were a bit marginal insofar as buzz goes. But by evening, the big guns had come out.
Early on, it was the New Pornographers playing the one set that was guaranteed to be impossible to get into -- the B.C. stalwarts approaching the level of indie gods. Later, it was k-os - having landed a spot following Beth Orton on one of the night's higher profile bills - making up for an absurdly long wait between sets with a typically sturdy run through his stand-outs. And in between, young and hungry Canadian acts were scattered around town, working hard to make an impression, as they will be all festival.
It's not just the talent that's on evidence down here. You can't shake a stick without finding a Canadian, and once you do it becomes a matter of strength in numbers -- the Canucks travelling in packs, or frantically texting each other with updates on where they are and why it's imperative that the others get there immediately.
It's the performers, though, who bare enough to inspire a bit of flag-waving fervour. Or at least, they would if Canadians -- like Swedes and Scots -- had that annoying habit of literally waving flags whenever they see their own playing in a foreign country. For us, some quiet (self-)satisfaction will suffice. But if anyone came down here with the notion that a Canadian music boom was more fantasy than reality, they'd be hard-pressed to leave with it.
