SXSW DAY 3: Childish Gambino, Vomit On Lady Gaga And E-cigarettes

The massive Stereogum party scheduled to take place at Mohawk today is cancelled, along with the Death & Taxes Showcase at Cheer Up Charlie's, and tonight's Massive Music showcase. Massive Music, a Dutch booking agency, lost one of their employees in the hit and run. It feels strange to talk about new music and parties and free booze now, but we're not sure what else to do. There is a broader conversation to be had about the controlled chaos of SXSW, but we're stuck in the machine and the cycle is still running.

A heavy night last night, so we start easy on day 3. The Paste Magazine party at Swan Dive on Red River Street is a haven for the earnest new sweethearts of the American indie scene. Yellow Ostrich kicks off proceedings, who is not that new, but always impressive. Live, Alex Schaaf's nasal, pleading pop has added urgency, his little boy body straining hard against the guitar strap. The set peaks as he delivers his latest single, Neon Fists. He is so brilliant, his inability to cut through internationally seems like an accident timing – he's excellent but off trend. Slightly more in the pocket, Ages and Ages play afterwards, a galloping six piece from Portland that belt - like truly belt - their four part harmonies to the far horizon. Twanging, stomping and soaring, their hook-laden set includes the adorable, humanitarian earworm, Do The Right Thing with it's unforgettable hook: “Don't you know you're not the only one who's suffering?” Up next, Lydia Loveless' dirty brand of country-tinged rock might be good, but it's impossible to tell through the shitty fuzzed out backyard speakers.

Outside on 7th, it's a mid-afternoon shitstorm. There is a queue two hundred people deep for the Empire Control Room and Garage, the electro centre of SXSW, because Skrillex is headlining the day party there. Same deal across the road, where Brooklyn Vegan has taken over Red 7 - Little Dragon and Tyler the Creator top the bill this afternoon and they are a massive drawcard.

Back east of the I35, the backyard of Licha's Catina is filling up fast for a performance by one-man blues country juggernaut Shakey Graves, an Austin local. He has the kind of voice that strokes you and knocks you about a little, and a personality to match. Wearing wayfarers, a wife beater tucked into tailored blue dress pants and a milky grey Stetson, his ropey, tattooed arms bare in the afternoon sun, Graves is just aching to be included on some high-gloss sexiest people list.

Shakey Graves gettin' his sexy on.

A couple of blocks away, at the North Door on Brushy Street, Animal House is hosting a hip hop day party in conjunction with livemixtapes.com. With an hour to go before the party wraps up, the stage is heavily populated with MCs, DJs and hype crew, a free range party starring members of Atlanta's Two 9 crew, an electric edition to the underground hip hop scene. They bounce, rhyme and pump the air, with three MCs leading the charge (we're gonna call them guy with the hair, white guy with the hair and the other guy), backed by NY producer Branches, whose glitchy electro sounds would play well at Low End Theory. The audience is waiting for the headline act, West Coast slink rapper of the hour Young Thug, but time is running out. No one seems to know what the hell is going on. 'I heard Young Thug is in county,' the sound guy says, 'He's not gonna make it on stage tonight.'

Outside the Spotify House, just around the corner, a lanky white dude in a red Phillys cap rolls up in a pedicab with an amp and a mic, and a backup MC, and proceeds to wow the queue with a reasonably slick rap style. No one had any idea who he is. Inside the House, painted floor to ceiling in putrescent Spotify green, Warpaint are gearing up to play one of a dozen unremarkable showcase spots this week.

Warpaint at the Spotify House.

Between 7pm and 8pm, your intrepid reporter retires to her apartment for an attempted disco nap, which turns out to be an hour of lying awake in the dark, twitching. During this time, Soundgarden are preparing for their iTunes Festival slot at Moody Theatre, where they will play Superunknown in full, and Lady Gaga rehearses for her headline slot at Stubbs. Stubbs backyard is a bit of a lo-fi setting for the arch-princess of pop (being, you know, a backyard) but it's big enough to contain her superego (she entered on a spit and covered in vomit).

As night sets in, Austin starts to glow, especially down on Rainey Street where Californian bungalows are converted to live music venues and strung with row upon row of twinkling lights. Various record labels, booking agencies and PR films host showcase gigs, sponsored by brands as diverse as Dickies and Neiman Marcus. Two blocks north on East Ceasar Chavez, blue spotlight streak the sky above the MTV Woodies party, where Childish Gambino's brainiac hip hop booms monstrously out of the speakers, more ballsy live than the records would have you believe.

Then, at the 4AD showcase at Cheer Up Charlie, Sohn does what he came to do. The London-born, Vienna-based artist is a revelation, bass booming thick under his sweet soul vocal; tales of heartbreak and world-weariness slinking out of the speakers. It is epic and beautiful. 'We are finally glad to be at SXSW,' he says, and the industry-heavy crowd whoops its support. His debut album, Tremors, comes out in April, and it will take him all over the world.

Sohn, doing what he came to do...

The Empire Garage and Control Room was shut down for breaching the fire code on Tuesday night and they've been toey about capacity ever since. The Warp Records showcase on Wednesday was a dead zone, with nu-soul diva Kelela playing to just a few dozen people inside serenading the majority of her audience through the Garage window. Tonight is the Mad Decent showcase and the queue is less of a queue and more of a crush, six people deep and wrapping all the way to the I35. We don't even try. It's twelve thirty, and while we munch on food truck onion rings we consider making the trek back south to Lustre Pearl on Rainey Street to catch a late set by ScHoolboy Q. But at 12.30, this is a stupid idea. Collard Greens already has 15 million views on Youtube. It'll be a nightmare. Probably.

Back at the 4AD party, Belford Slims is sampling e-cigarettes. We run into a rep from I Oh You, in town with the too-loud-for-SXSW DZ Deathrays. We ask how the guys are travelling this year. "Incredible," he jokes, poker-faced. "Damon Albarn wants them for his next album." At the top of the bill, Baltimore's Future Islands inspire actual crowd-surfing with the disco-fuelled synth punk. But there is no crowd-surfing in our heart, not for these guys. We feel like we've been punched in the eyeballs, which surely means it's time for bed.