The Diamond Center, Young Adult Fiction, Ear Theory
Thursday, March 15 at Casa Chapala, Austin TX
I was on day four of a grueling South by Southwest schedule that seemed eager to consume me should even the smallest window of opportunity arise. If Austin, TX were the merry ol’ land of Oz, I had just crossed an incredibly dangerous field and discovered that the all powerful Wizard may have been better suited to the Austin Powers sequel. My legs were weak, my diet was screwed and my eardrums wanted to eternally hibernate. The only thing I found comfort in was that if this movie theme continued, my ruby red slippers would soon appear and whisk me back to Kansas with three simple clicks.
It wasn’t until I walked into the Richmond showcase that my Dorthy moment truly arrived. There, sitting on the guitar case of a band I had yet to experience, was the famous “RVA” sticker. It was black and white, the exact same dimensions as it had always been. But most importantly, it reminded me of home, and gave me a second wind at a point where I thought such a feeling no longer existed.
Despite some last minute scheduling problems, line-up changes, and slight confusion over basic show elements, several Richmond-based bands made the multi-day trek to Austin for an opportunity to show the world what they were made of. Taking over the patio of a downtown Mexican restaurant, they had obviously arrived with a determination to leave a little bit of the 804 in the 512.
Ear Theory kicked things off in the early afternoon, opening with a simple but truthful, “We traveled a long way to be here.” With that they took off, delivering a strong guitar-violin combo that seemed to evolve as the set progressed. Without notice, what sounded like Adele with a backing band--thanks to vocals from the vibrant Shannon Keeter--would explode into a dark and moody instrumental ballad that seemed to eloquently tip its hat to Austin natives Explosions in the Sky. It was this sound evolution that helped the band finish their set just as strong as they opened it, with poise and persistence.
Like any good band, the personalities of Young Adult Fiction seemed to match their on-stage presence almost perfectly. Beginning slow, the band seemed shy as they went through their first few songs. Reserved, almost to the point of nervous, the sound was good but the energy just wasn’t there. By the third song, however, they shed their skin and came alive in the process; showing off their deep post-punk influences, the four-piece dove into heavy solos dominated by crunching guitars and a snare drum that seemed to have a mind of its own. Bridging music genres efficiently and effortlessly, I unknowingly nodded my head and tapped my toes to a final number that had me reminiscing about Jawbreaker’s classic Dear You.
As the sun went down and the spotlights came on, The Diamond Center took the stage to close out the evening on the highest note possible. They delivered a 35 minute set in which they hosted their own Thursday Mass, transforming the restaurant patio into their personal sanctuary. Keyboardist Lindsay Phillips arrived prepared for such an occasion, decked out in a black skirt and tights that seemed to match her sad yet aspirational on stage antics. Starting off slow and allowing their instruments to tell the prologue, lead singer Brandi Price seemed content with her own shadow as she delivered chilling vocals that blended perfectly with the groups psychedelic folk sound. Drummer Tim Falen, who at times acted as if he was playing his last show on earth, let his hair flail each time his crashing cymbals dominated the moment, while Price seemed moody as she wildly kicked her legs without warning, threatening to bust open the top lip of anybody standing too close. Completely ignoring the fact that they were performing under a glorified tent, the band delivered a fierce performance, leaving their sounds bouncing off walls that really weren’t there to begin with.
If the point of the showcase was to bring the great sounds of Richmond bands to Austin, it’s objective was completed successfully. The local outfits that made the trek used their shortened set times effectively, showing off their potential while refusing to be intimidated by the unusual atmosphere that sometimes looms over a festival such as this. And as the local favorites entered the home stretch of their closing jam, my margarita suddenly melted into an ice cold PBR and the uninspired family restaurant temporarily morphed into a dark and crowded Strange Matter. For a split second, that small corner in downtown Austin became littered with sights and sounds that were distinctively RVA. The opening bands serving as my tin man and scarecrow, The Diamond Center as my ruby red slippers; these bands spent an afternoon giving me that taste of Richmond I had started to sincerely miss since being lost in the chaos that is South by Southwest.
Maybe Autie Em was right. There really is no place like home.