Austin Sound

Austin’s shaggy-haired savant Bill Baird loves to unload his lo-fi video visions upon the world as much as he does his music, and to accompany the release of this spring’s Bright Blue Dream, which preceded the recent Glowing City, he has been preparing an entire video set. He hasn’t quite finished them, though according to a recent blog post, thinks that is for the better: “Ironically, all the delay has been good… the videos didn’t affect initial reactions to the album. Funny, off-the-cuff
videos for dark songs might’ve caused some serious cognitive dissonance. This time lapse allows
the videos to be seen as not extending directly from the songs, but more a way to blow off some
creative steam, have fun, and experiment in a new medium.”

The Glowing City, the new album from Bill Baird’s Sunset, is an ambitious sprawling tribute to psychedelic, prog, folk, and post-rock. Attributed to seven musicians plus another eighteen (twenty-one or more if you count Townes the Dog, the guy who recorded street traffic, and whomever played in the Tejano band on the radio next door to the studio), The Glowing City is filled with lush instrumentation and voices that appear from unlit corners. There’s a sense that maybe complete chaos is right around the bend when all these folks are allowed to get together.

At eighteen tracks and almost 80 minutes long, The Glowing City is a difficult album to digest in one or two listens. Like the best parts of Pink Floyd’s Atom Heart Mother and/or Obscured By Clouds with a dash of Sgt Pepper, Bowie, and Love, this album yields new gifts every listen as the nuances and influences are picked up and peeled away.

To get the “inside scoop,” as we professional reporters say, on the new Sunset album The Glowing City (which is due July 15th on Autobus Records) I emailed Bill Baird asking him if he wouldn’t mind talking about it with me. He agreed, and suggested we do the interview on Google Chat. Unsure of which emoticons most accurately reflected the professional aura of seriousness I maintain when conducting all my interviews, I was at first hesitant, but reluctantly assented. So late one night, after we had each returned home from work (and made a stop by the refrigerator), Bill Baird and I met in “cyberspace” to talk about the two latest Sunset albums, Baird’s lyrical influences, thunderstorms and more. What resulted was, naturally, something of a disaster.

Dreams are nothing like albums. Between the time we put head to pillow and the time we wake up to start whatever monotony the day has in store, we completely submit our consciousness to the will of our imagination. Dreams are highly introspective, at least in my experience. Both people close to me and people that I thought I’d forgotten long ago run amuck in my subconscious; what little “plot” I can discern from them is usually related to the things that are stressful in my life. And what’s more, you don’t have a choice! You’re asleep, and whatever dreams you get are the ones you’re stuck with. Ever tried to coerce your subconscious into a sex-dream? Doesn’t work, does it?

But albums, on the other hand, albums are almost none of these things, especially from the listening perspective (which, unless you’re Bill Baird, means you and me). Listening to an album is looking in on the consciously created artistic work of another, and it’s by your choice alone. But then there’s Bright Blue Dream. When an album drags you in with haunted vocals and harsh rhythms, keeps you at its mercy through 14-minute guitar explorations, and then releases you after an hour or so like a mid-afternoon nap, then you can’t help but feeling like maybe, just maybe, you were dreaming.

The long awaited release from Bill Baird’s {{{Sunset}}} now has a release date, cover, and a pre-order button. The album is called Bright Blue Dream and is due on March 25th on AutoBus Records. For those who can’t wait that long, {{{Sunset}}} is now taking preorders on their Myspace page or in AutoBus’s store.

Playing tonight (for free, no less) at the Cactus Cafe are two of the most intriguing bands in Austin, and one of them is finally dropping their long awaited new album.

It’s been over a year since The Weird Weeds‘ last release, but tonight we reset the counter. The new album, I Miss This (Autobus), is on-sale at the show tonight and in stores March 4th. It’s a lovely collection of all the unique quirks of The Weird Weeds, featuring the band’s ability to span the spectrum of music, anywhere from Rock n’ Roll to seriously Experimental. Recently, they proved their experimental roots in the local No Idea Festival. If any band can mix rock and noise and still come up with something focused, coherent, and a joy to listen to, it’s The Weird Weeds.

In support is {{{Sunset}}}, Bill Baird’s once side-project from Sound Team, now primary focus. Bright Blue Dream, his upcoming release, will have to wait for another night.

I swear to the Gods of Rock n’ Roll, the Mohawk was built for Will Johnson. The indoor stage, in its tiny glory, is the perfect fit for Johnson’s solo show. Packed into the sliver of space between the bar and the stage, which is no more than a few feet off the ground, I can’t help but feel like I’m there to see my friend’s band’s first gig at the tiniest, most out of the way place in town. But the same intimacy that makes watching your friend’s band awkward makes the Mohawk perfect for Will Johnson.

{{{Sunset}}} (Get it? {0} is the “empty set” so they’re “sunset.” I have no idea if that’s intentional, but I love math jokes.) have just taken the stage as I arrived. Sure they play some music, I’ll tell you about it, but first thing’s first: is their name pronounced “Sunset,” or “Bracket Bracket Bracket Sunset Bracket Bracket Bracket” (which is ridiculous)? These ‘symbol’ band names are a difficult for me - imagine my embarrassment when I asked a fellow music snob what he thought of “Exclamation Point Exclamation Point Exclamation Point”. Boy, was I sorry! So when Bill Baird leans into the mic between songs and announces that the band’s called “Sunset” I was relieved, to say the least.

In his first release post-Sound Team, Bill Baird has joined up with the artist conglomerate label Autobus to produce Pink Clouds, a limited edition 100 copy run cassette tape. Baird is also working on a new CD, currently entitled Bright Blue Dream, which should see release on Autobus in March.

To celebrate Pink Clouds, Baird will be heading west on a short tour, kicking off tonight at Beerland. Baird will be taking to the road with a full six piece band, and the shows will purportedly feature accompanying video that he has orchestrated into a full sensorial experience. Gulf of Mexico will also be playing at Beerland, making their debut with former Sound Team drummer, Jordan Johns.

7/10/07
We almost missed the latest lo-fi production from Bill Baird for his song, “Sandy Says Zombies,” but luckily Gorilla vs. Bear caught it. We can’t pretend to have a handle on the wonderful strangeness that is Bill Baird’s mind, but the song and video seem to be a statement against mindless corporate consumerism and preserving individuality in the face of modernity’s shallow shadow. That’s our take anyway, but judge for yourself below.

These two self-released albums from Sound Team bassist Bill Baird were supposedly meant to go together, though how so is not exactly clear. But then trying to make the instrumental Silence! and the acoustic oriented {{{Sunset}}} mesh is a fairly trivial endeavor, and one that it would appear Baird promotes in his characteristically playful/enigmatic manner. Baird seems to allow nothing to be taken too seriously, yet simultaneously infuses everything he does with an abstracted and even aloof sincerity and seriousness that it’s difficult to gage which aspect is actually undermining the other. This is the brilliance and frustration of his two latest releases as well. As if capturing that split outlook, both albums show moments of extraordinary beauty, subtlety and songwriting while also continually pushing the songs (and listener) with experimental turns, occasionally naïve lyrics and an aesthetic that seems to never want to leave well-enough alone.