I'm not sure what all the fuss was about with Kanye West headlining ACL this year; though some might take offense to his oft-lofty attitude, many might agree that he is the most forward-thinking man in American music today. And it's only just for the king to take his rightful place on the throne: the main stage at the biggest music festival in the Live Music Capital. And King Kanye does it in grand style, without the much-anticipated help of Viceroy Jay-Z.
As the show begins, choreographer Yemi Akinyemi’s dancers take the stage—you might recognize some of them as those exotic ballerinas from last year's avant-garde "Runaway" video—while West is covertly toted into the middle of a crowd inside of a giant red trunk. With the crowd’s attention diverted to the angels on stage, he’s hoisted onto an electric platform and rises above the crowd, waiting expectantly for his dancers to bow to their leader.
Eventually, along with the rest of the crowd, they do. And the set that follows is less like a traditional hip-hop performance and more like a Daft Punk or Justice show, with DJ Million Dollar Mano at the decks re-mixing and interweaving songs from all four of Kanye West’s solo studio albums to create a larger narrative.
West enters the stage through the crowd and begins his performance—a three-act show that casts him as a hero figure—autotune crooning "Pinnochio Story/Heartless" with an exuberance of emotion, dancing with excitement to songs like "Stronger" and "Flashing Lights" and, eventually, exciting the crowd with his second (and final) extended-version freestyle performance of "Runaway."
In this, he is exceptional; while he and his dancers are acting, nobody in the crowd is thinking. They’re just feeling, and the range of feelings he can bring about in a crowd are unmatched—the mark of a true artist (and probably America’s only truly unpredictable artist left in this muddled playground of 21st century social promotion). And it’s this ability which has allowed him to surpass “business, man” and branding genius Jay-Z to become the most influential hip-hop artist today.
Watching the evolution of the two men (culminating in their recent collaboration) has been like seeing a modern day, real-life version of the story of Narcissus and Goldmund unfold—it is amazing that two egos as big as West’s and Carter’s were able to come together on one album. And regardless of what you may feel about it, Watch the Throne turned out to be the only thing that it could: a collab based on the reality of an outstretched American Dream, of two unlikely heroes with two very different personas rapping about their luxury goods and rich-boy problems.
But if West would have turned last night’s ACL show into an extension of the Watch the Throne tour, I’m afraid it would not have been as much of a fanatical performance, but instead more like an arena-rock show with less melodrama and more swagger. And I suppose if that’s what festival-goers were really looking for, they would have walked across the lawn to see Coldplay.
Only in Austin does recording in a tin can create excellent sound. Specifically, this "tin can" is a 1955 Spartan Imperial Mansion trailer, a spacious mobile home converted into a relatively cramped studio. But the unconventional setup is no match for producer and engineer James Westley Essary.
Essary and his videographer brother, Brantley, have been using the space to build up their inner circle of musicians, capturing intimate performances in professional recordings available on YouTube. Live From The Tin Can premiered its second season on April 15, 2024, and is looking forward to a long string of diverse performances to come. Right now listeners can enjoy Ron Gallo, David Ramirez, Vondré, John Calvin Abney, Angel White, and more on the YouTube channel.
First up this season was Worn-Tin (an amazing coincidence of a name), performing "Hard Ease," "Bitter," and "Kid Changed," a pleasantly lackadaisical series of alt-rock romps, somehow squeezing in two drum sets. Worn-Tin, like many other artists this season on the YouTube series, performed live at South by Southwest in March. The festival, along with the concurrent Luck Reunion, brought a wealth of artists to the Live Music Capital, so the Tin Can crew took advantage of the easy scheduling.
"South By's website is actually a great way to find out who was coming into town," says Brantley. "So we started thinking about things like, what is what is their sound like? What is their performance like, and will that translate into our space? ... [We] just started contacting managers: 'Hey, do you have a free morning, free afternoon? Want to come by?' The sessions only take about a couple of hours."
Although the Essarys are hoping to get more national acts into the Tin Can to boost views, their hope is that over time they can narrow their focus back to local artists. (The series premiere featured Austin band Kelly Doyle.) Beyond the view counts, these recordings are mutually beneficial; Artists don't just get exposure, but lasting high-quality recordings for free, and the brothers get to build a portfolio. Westley, who just goes by his second name in conversation, appreciates the stylistic challenge.
Producer and engineer James Westley Essary does the auditory impossible.Photo courtesy of Live From The Tin Can
"I get to create a little calling card, [and] they get a way to push their new record when they're rolling through town and on tour," says Westley. "As you put out records you get pigeonholed ... I want to make a punk record, and I want to make a metal record. I want to make a country record. So it allows me to be able to dabble in whatever I want — whatever we book in the studio."
Making these connections was Westley's main goal in creating the series during the pandemic. It'd been a loose idea at the producer's prior studio, with occasional shoots for social media. As we all remember, 2019 was not famous for its sense of urgency. But when the studio was "sold out from under" Westley in October, he got tired of hopping from one rental to another.
He bought the trailer in December 2019 and spent the following year working on it. The end of his work coincided with Brantley's desire to move back to Austin from Seattle, so the returning brother provided the property to park the trailer on. The rest was good, old-fashioned pandemic restlessness.
The Tin Can in all its metallic glory.Photo courtesy of Live From The Tin Can
"When you're on the road all the time, you're meeting new bands every day, because you have a different opener or something," says Westley. "And I was like, 'How can I bring that to me?' It's a lot of fun when there's not really any money involved. You're not dedicating a ton of time, necessarily, to it. Bands come here, they have a really great time, [and] it's really nice to be able to host them."
Of course, recording in such a small space has its challenges. Most of the solution was in arranging; not the music, but the musicians. Placing everyone just right minimizes the bleed of certain instruments into other microphones, and as long as the singer stays relatively still, the drums — the biggest culprit — mostly keep their sound to themselves.
Some issues are also fixed with slightly quieter playing, unintentionally creating a sort of sonic brand for the series. It's not all bedroom pop, but the combination of a cozy recording environment and slightly restrained volume makes for some homey performances. This also works nicely for Westley — isn't that happening a lot? — who says he usually prefers listening at home to watching in a crowd.
Still, live recordings add a certain spice to the music. Many music fans will attribute it to the organic mystery of musicians clicking together, but Westley thinks there's something else at play. There's no substitute for practice, and by the time musicians are making live recordings, they've probably played the song live dozens or even hundreds of times. That allows for improvements on the original ideas — sometimes ones that originated in the studio at the time of the first recording.
Ron Gallo squeezes into the Tin Can.Still from Live From The Tin Can
It's also an easy way to make additional income without writing more, he says. Brantley points out that live music has always been at the core of the business.
"Live music has been at the top for forever," says Brantley. "Now we've got artists selling out huge arenas. They're competing with the NFL; They're not competing with movies or TV as much anymore. ... So I love the opportunity to not just record live music, but also film it. You're getting a full experience of both the really compelling live recording [and] even more compelling video to watch them in their element — really playing it live rather than just in a box in the studio."
The next frontier for the Tin Can crew will be hosting live shows onsite. Westley will be in the trailer recording while the band plays outside, and eventually Brantley might start capturing video, too. Also down the pipeline are audio-only live recordings, so listeners can enjoy the tunes without relying on YouTube.
One episode featuring NOBRO from Montreal, Quebec, is out now, with more to come. Next up is Evangeline from Los Angeles. Follow along with Live From The Tin Can ("Like and subscribe," says Brantley with a smile) on YouTube.