After the frenetic pace of the previous three days, I eased back a bit on Day 4, which might explain why my last full day in Austin was my favorite. Or perhaps it was my increased whiskey consumption.  

Getting a late afternoon start, I headed down to the Cedar Street Showdown party. Two days earlier, the rumors started flying that Britain’s latest pop moppet Kate Nash was going to be the special guest. By Saturday, it was common knowledge, so rather than take a chance that I’d end up shut out of the courtyard venue, I showed up early to catch the two acts that preceded her, and was rewarded with two solid sets from Seattle’s Grand Archives and Sea Wolf from Los Angeles (incidentally, I’ve seen enough good L.A. bands this week to issue a full mea culpa for my earlier volley at that city’s music scene). 

Grand Archives are best described as an ethereal take on California’s sun-drenched pop sound. Mat Brooke, the band’s guitarist, is a former member of Band of Horses, but I couldn’t hold it against these children of Nuggets. Horses meanders, but Grand Archives plunged straight ahead, with full choruses and power-pop chords for miles throughout its seven-song set. And how often is it that the drummer is the talkative, clever one?

As Sea Wolf took the stage, I couldn’t help thinking that lead singer Alex Brown Church looked a bit like Jeff Tweedy’s younger brother. Thing was, he sounded a bit like him too, especially after the first two chantey-like numbers passed and they settled into an early Wilco sound. But the band distinguished itself with Lisa Fendelander‘s barrelhouse organs and April Guthrie‘s mournful cello on songs whose characters were often willing to dock at any port in a storm. They finished strong with the powerful “Black Dirt.” 

About an hour before Kate Nash came on, reports of Billy Bragg joining Nash for her set started to filter through the crowd. Sure enough, after an artificially inflated delay - as Nash nervously chatted with folks in the VIP section above the stage, the singer took the stage sporting a when-in-Texas look: a star-spangled blue dress with matching red belt, followed by Bragg who crouched at the side of the stage. She quickly developed an easy rapport with an audience eager to say they saw her before the backlash. “This microphone smells a bit like Tex-Mex,” Nash cracked to appreciative laughter, later admonishing those who were mocking a visibly drunk audience member (“Don’t laugh, that’s someone’s Dad!”).

It’s understandable why Nash might be so eager to please. Her album Made of Bricks is a perfectly fine album of lightweight pop that traffics in put-downs of jerky boyfriends and the mundane details of her British life. For whatever reason, this has led to overly effusive PR, describing her as the second coming of the confessional singer-songwriter, which has, in turn, set her up for slings and arrows from scoffing critics. 

Truthfully, a few of the songs in Nash’s set were too simple. There’s not much of interest in “Dickhead,” aside from its title, and while the recitation of things that Nash likes and dislikes on “I Hate Seagulls” gave insight into her spots-and-all persona, it’s nothing more than a list. Much better was “The Guilt” with Nash voicing a heart-breaking inner monologue of apology, doubt and pain, that ends on a brief light of optimism. As she sounded the last note, Bragg jumped up and applauded telling her it was “brilliant” and “really quite beautiful.”

“Our friendship is based around an affinity for the Shangri-las,” said Bragg as he strapped on Nash’s guitar, suggesting that this was more than just a deft move by her people to insulate her from knee-jerk criticism (“Well if Billy Bragg thinks she’s a bit of alright then maybe…”), while also placing her within a grand British tradition of songwriters like Ray Davies, Paul Weller and Bragg himself. The two traded lines like old friends, before launching into a three-song set of the Shangri-las’ “Give Him A Great Big Kiss,” Bragg’s classic “New England” and Nash’s “Foundations,” a tell-off song that’s everything “Dickhead” isn’t: clever, introspective and fun. 

Whether Nash has true staying power remains to be seen as she tours the U.S. over the next few months (with a stop at the Vic on May 2). But when she’s at her best, she puts herself under the same microscope as others. If she stays true to that self-effacing style, perhaps she can avoid the fate of Lily Allen who was in Nash’s shoes last year but was most recently seen hosting a British chat show, with the singer of “Chocolate Rain” as her guest.

As for the rest of my night, I finally got a taste of home during Justin Townes Earle’s set at the Bloodshot Records showcase. A former Chicagoan, Earle has transcended his early career missteps, including an addiction to drugs and the weight of sharing a name with both his father Steve and his namesake Townes Van Zandt. Now a Nashville resident, Earle’s debut album The Good Life is a traditional country music record that eulogizes his difficult past, then puts it behind him. Earle and his band of road-worn bluegrass musicians worked up a honky-tonk sweat on songs like on “Hard Living” before taking it down a few for “Where Do You Go When You’re Lonesome.” He even threw in a Townes Van Zandt cover, at peace with his namesake. The three-beers-in crowd ate it up.

Later – after a stop at Time Out’s sponsored showcase – I returned to the Bloodshot party for the drunken revelry of the Waco Brothers. I’d been “off the clock” for the past few hours, so I was fueled by Maker’s Mark, which put me right in line with everyone else there, including the band. After four days and 32 full sets of music (plus three partial ones), the Waco Brothers were a not-so-gentle reminder that there’s always plenty of good music to be found at home.

Top five shows I saw at SXSW:
Black Mountain
Fleet Foxes
Sons & Daughters
Justin Townes Earle
Clare and the Reasons

Honoraoble mention: Earl Greyhound, who’d probably have made the top five if I saw more than their last three songs

Bottom four shows I saw at SXSW:
Yacht
Fuck Buttons
Kimya Dawson
Whoever the hell that was during Mahjongg’s timeslot (Update: After consulting with our associate music editor Brent DiCrescenzo and describing this person as "sounding like a really terrible version of Beck,"  he suggested this was Panther and after a quick check of MySpace, I think he’s right.)

Top 5 acts I regret missing:
Lykke Li
Black Tide
Yeasayer
Georgie James
Basia Bulat