Thirty years ago South by Southwest was a small, new music seminar, a chance for young bands to showcase their sounds. Now it’s a huge, 10-day event enveloping music, film, technology and a tinge of politics. But for years the complaints have percolated that it’s too corporate, that branding is ubiquitous, that it’s too expensive for young bands, and that it’s antithetical to the local aspiration to, as the city slogan has it, “Keep Austin Weird”.  On Friday night on Sixth Street in downtown Austin, however, there were still plenty of musicians and fans seizing the opportunity to hear and make new music. Even if they didn’t have official gigs, musicians from all over America arrived at Austin just to play street shows. We spoke to the street performers, aspiring rappers, Instagram stars, country music troubadours and indie kids of SXSW.  Paperboy Prince of the Suburbs, a rapper from Washington DC who lives in Brooklyn, regaled the crowd with his song Tiptoeing in my Jeremys, performed in underpants and a dressing gown. The rest of his clothes were thrown on the ground. He agreed to answer the Guardian’s questions on condition he can broadcast them with his microphone. He also asked for a hug (which he received). “It’s going amazing, look how sexy all these people are,” he told us. “My plans are just to spread love.”  Around the corner, Tyler James from Nashville was with his band Escondido. They had seven shows so far, and another scheduled the next day – which, he grimaced, was at the McDonalds loft. “It’s been really fun – it’s pandemonium down here.”  As to whether it’s a good place to play, James said that it’s only worthwhile for bands if they already have played a lot.  “You have to invest so much time and resources to get down here it’s nuts. We have six people in one hotel room because it’s so expensive. It probably cost us about $3,000, $4,000 to get down here so you hope you have some shows that pay you to offset it. A lot of bands don’t.”  Juliet Tango were playing in front of a waffle truck, having driven to Austin from Olympia, Washington – a distance of more than 2,000 miles. “We had a hell of a trip, we just got here this morning and rolled in on our last two dollars of gas,” said drummer Ripley Ty.  But was it worth it?  “Absolutely! We’re going to be playing out here tonight and tomorrow night and hopefully make enough gas money to get home.”  Further down Sixth Street we came across three young women in tracksuits painted with their logo, Blushhh Music. They were happy to have their photograph taken, but reacted to an interview request like Dracula confronted with a crucifix. All interview requests, I was informed, go through their manager, Mathew Knowles. They are Blushhh Music – in other words, proteges of Beyoncé’s dad. They gave the Guardian a poster.  Micky Munday was one of a number of rappers hanging out on the street – the LA native was set to play three shows including the Lit Lounge and the Eastern. “South by Southwest is dope,” he said. “It’s a beautiful thing. When you’re out here, everyone comes for new music, they come with open ears, so it’s a blessing.”  So how was he going down? “We rocking that motherfucker, man. We killing that shit. We’re jumping on couches and tables, kicking over drinks on the bar, spilling drinks on women, pouring champagne on ladies – you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do, man. We in the moment!”  Bud Wilmer and Linda McGuyer were “just hanging out”, having driven here from Houston.  “We’ve got no plans, we’ll just see what happens.” Big music fans? “Who isn’t?” said Wilmer, a guitar maker. They’ve been to the festival before and like to people watch. “And we haven’t got shot so far, so that’s good too,” he concluded.  There was uproar on Sixth Street: a bunch of people rapping and dancing to a sound system set up on the corner. A golf buggy drove into the fray, and a woman twerked in front of it. At the wheel was “entertainment specialist” Michael Blaylark, whose company is called “Go Stupid! Go Dumb!! Go VIRAL!!!”. He had no idea who the rest of the people were, but said he has a nose for a scene.  He hollered at the Guardian: “I have no idea who this is, but this is my family. I love music and I love our city and I hope you keep coming back.”  Tyler White, an Austin native wearing a stars-and-stripes hoody and carrying a huge box of doughnuts, was more ambivalent. “It’s the same old same old, I’ve been doing this for 10 years. It was a lot better five, six years ago before it became a corporate free-for-all. I’m working now and I couldn’t give less of a shit about it.”  Sophia Gabrielson made the trip from Denver, Colorado. She first attended SXSW in 2014. “I come for the social environment as well as the music,” she said. “You get people from all over the world.”  She had just returned from an “awesome” free show by Vince Staples. Her approach to the festival is “random as hell”, she said. “I hear about a show 10 minutes before and hop over.” She said the festival can be stressful because there’s so much going on and later on “people get a little loopy. I’m not gonna lie, they’re pretty drunk but it’s a lot of fun”.  Oflow Show was making a painting on the pavement further down the street. When asked where he was from, he said “the universe, without borders”.  He said he was here to share energy with the people around him, as SXSW was “very vibrant, very open minded. People want to see art”.  He hoped his mural would raise funds to form an artistic commune. He also raps. “I envision people to see that they can bring heaven upon this earth through sharing their presence and utilizing their moments.”  Trisha Cummings from the Bronx, New York, was in Austin working for Revolt TV during SXSW. This was her second time at the festival. “It’s dope because I discover underground talented artists,” she said.  South Bronx rappers Conan and JECKZ5420 were hanging out on Sixth Street looking for some rolling papers – Jeckz’s tell-tale red eyes suggested that he’d found some local produce. “The atmosphere’s amazing,” he said. Both rappers played the Local Lounge, and their plans for the summer include two mixtapes, an album and a video.  Jason Garcia is no stranger to SXSW: he’s lived in Austin 23 years. He’s a tattoo artist at True Blue Tattoo, near the intersection of Sixth street and Red River. Garcia says the quality of music at SXSW has declined over the past five years.  “It doesn’t seem that a lot of really good bands play here any more. A couple of years ago Jane’s Addiction played a free show or Pixies or the Cult. But this year I haven’t really heard anything.”  Bethany Taylor was attending her second SXSW. “Usually I work it so I’m not necessarily the fan that everyone else is.” When asked whether it had declined, she replied :“It’s pretty much the same mess that it was last year.” She wasn’t going to any official gigs – just small bands and free shows.  Jared Driscoll moved to Austin from New Hampshire, as it was one of the few cities in America that are warm at this time of year. He’s seen a lot of bands on the British PC Music label. “It was awesome. I like that whole scene. And Paradise is like the newest Charli XCX and Sophie song, and that was the peak moment.”
As the 2016 festival kicked off, the Guardian took to the streets to meet the locals, performers, aspiring rappers and indie kids that make up the scene