SXSW 2016, Day 1: Teenaged wizardry, post-punk power and some sumptuous sleaze

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Declan McKenna at SXSW 2016
Declan McKenna at SXSW 2016

Tuesday in Austin: Declan McKenna, Girls Names, Lewis Del Mar, Sports, Har Mar Superstar, Tacocat, Thelma and the Sleaze, Kacy Hill

The swollen coagulum (and we say that lovingly) that is the South by Southwest Music Festival forces you to hit the ground running earlier and earlier every year. So on Tuesday — which once upon a time was “I-think-I’ll-start-packing-for-Austin” day — bleary-eyed leftovers from the SXSW Interactive conference lingered for one last hurrah and new arrivals to town started working on those blisters.

It was 86 degrees and sticky when the foray into unofficial day parties began, cool and comfy later for the SXSW official showcases. That weather will change later this week in Austin, but the musical forecast is likely to remain static: heavy clouds of redundant pop with squalls of rock ’n’ roll spirit and brief periods of clearing for something fresh and innovative.

The latter came Tuesday night in the form of a teenager who actually asked the audience at the British Music Embassy not to clap. Stay with us here. His name is Declan McKenna, who’s 17 but looked 13 on stage, surrounded by gadgets, dressed in a white T-shirt, gym shorts and ratty Converse high tops, as if he just rolled in from AYSO practice. (Translation for British readers: AYSO is an organization for youth soccer, which you call football.)

The London-based McKenna, winner of last year’s Glastonbury Emerging Talent competition, has all of two songs out in the world, but his set revealed a nimble touch both vocally and compositionally, as he juggled a guitar, some backing beats and an impressive live-looping set-up. At the outset of one song, he asked the audience not to clap along, lest it “mess up the loop,” and proceeded to build the song part by part from a series of eight handclaps. Since we’re partial to guys named Declan, he’s worth watching.

Prior to McKenna, there were Girls Names, one of those bands the British Embassy annually has in abundance who remind you of the best parts of 1980s. Having just released their fourth album “Arms Around a Vision,” the Belfast quartet thrummed and roared behind oh-so-serious frontman Cathal Cully, their post-punk-cum-psychedelic-rock reverberating out onto San Jacinto Street. Many had to settle for that vantage point, the venue having reached capacity.

Later, there was more post-punk to be found — an entire showcase of it, as a matter of fact, with Los Angeles’ own Michael Stock of Part Time Punks presiding. Brooklyn quartet Honduras and L.A.’s Tennis System were back-to-back impressive, and only fatigue prevented a longer stay to see Australia’s Gold Class, marked with an asterisk for later this week.

The SXSW gremlins sabotaged Har Mar Superstar’s attempt at playing Maggie Mae’s. (“Maggie Maybe? Maybe not,” said a friend.) His six-piece backing band was at the ready, but the keyboards would not work. “Nothing’s working up here and I’m pissed because I had all this new stuff to share,” he said, slowly burning into a rage. His band roared through one rocker and exited.

Earlier, there was a day party in East Austin at Roses and Keys, where the stage was situated on a street corner, facing a small patio and creating something of a sonic traffic jam.

And speaking of sports, one of the bands who played there was Sports, playing behind their debut album “Naked All the Time.” Sports is built around the trio of Jacob Theriot, Christian Theriot and Cale Chronister and settled on their name “due to each band member’s lack of athleticism,” their bio says. Suffice to say their electro-pop sounds as if it would barely manage one chin-up.

Not so for the band that followed. As far as we can tell, there’s nobody named Lewis Del Mar in the band Lewis Del Mar, an indie-rock duo from Rockaway Beach, N.Y., who are expanded to a five-piece live. Their music is bound to have bigger appeal — shape-shifting indie-rock with big R&B grooves. Singles “Loud(y)” and “Wave(s)” were highlights.

Earlier, Seattle pop-punk quartet Tacocat sweated out their set on the patio at the Side Bar, playing spunky, garage-y, Go-Go’s-inspired tunes, some of which had to do with female issues. The other issue, of course, was singer Emily Nokes’ cyan lipstick. “Damn, I’m getting blue lipstick all over this microphone already,” she said after the first song.

The afternoon began at the Spotify House with Kacy Hill, another in a horde of sirens whose electro-pop is so interchangeable you have to look at the schedule three times to remember whom you are seeing. She wore a black velvet get-up, though, “and I made everybody up here wear black velvet too, so we could have sweaty backs together.”

So it was something of a cleanse to catch Thelma and the Sleaze across the street at the substantially less corporate Hotel Vegas (sounds fancy, but it ain’t). The Nashville trio of singer-guitarist CG, bassist Baby Angel and drummer Chase took no prisoners. A feminist, confrontational Thin Lizzy? That’s what’s been said of them, and they lived up to those press clippings and more. Tight and ferocious, they blasted through a set while laconically re-introducing themselves as (Seattle quartet) La Luz, whom they would whup in a battle of the bands. Their closer “Cum” recalled “Whole Lotta Love” on stimulants, right down to the big finish.

||| Also: Jordan Kleinman’s report from Day 1.