After four long days of seemingly non-stop hustling to hear music, Sunday was a welcome relief with the festival all but officially over and only one sure thing on the schedule. Consider this entry the denouement to 2008′s SXSW music festival as I recount a day spent exploring the great city of Austin.

Sunday
The morning was a lazy affair defined by sleeping in and exchanging hugs and goodbyes with our friends who were driving back home to Dallas/Ft. Worth. Upon finally getting in gear, we made our way to Progress Coffee on San Marcos Street just south of the French Legation Museum. During a previous trip to Austin, Progress Coffee had provided some legendary nourishment in the form of jalapeno biscuits. Due to the late nature of our arrival on this Sunday morning, however, said biscuits were long gone. Undaunted, waffles with Nutella and the 5th Street turkey sandwich were ordered. The sandwich was particularly amazing as it was topped with succulent Austin Slowburn Rosemary Habanaro jelly, cream cheese and organic greens.

Next up it was high time to check out some authentic western boots so we stopped in at Heritage Boot on 8th Street after having seen some of their wares at their South by San Jose booth on Thursday. In the cozy shop, we were greeted by two friendly salesmen who were glad to show off the various styles. Trying on a western boot for the first time was an interesting experience – the pointed chihuahua toe, the arch, the heel and the tall shaft all made for a unique feel. And while the feeling was good, the boots were just a little too fancy for my personal taste. The designs were gorgeous, but not quite what I thought I’d be willing to wear on a regular basis.

So with that we made a trip across the lake/river to South Congress and decided to have a look at Allen Boots. Not a boutique shop like Heritage, but probably more specialized and better quality than a place like Shepler’s (which we admittedly did not visit, but was described as the Wal-Mart of western apparel). A pair of Fry engineer boots and another pair of Tony Lamas beckoned yours truly, but not quite enough to trigger a purchase. My festival companion, on the other hand, fell completely in love with a fantastic pair of Old Gringos.

In need of a respite, we strolled down Congress to Guero’s Taco Bar and found a seat at the bar where we ordered margaritas and tacos. I had what may have been a perfect fish taco and my friend was equally enthusiastic over a shrimp taco. Guero’s had been touted by Time Out Chicago as ‘everyone’s favorite margarita joint’ and while the margaritas were fine, I didn’t find them to be particularly special. It should be noted that while nearly everyone we met in Austin was kind and pleasant, the slunt behind the bar at Guero’s was in need of a supreme attitude adjustment.

For that matter, I was in need of a bit of an attitude adjustment myself as I was becoming sleepy and slightly irritable. Before heading back to the motel for a much needed nap, we felt it imperative to stop by Hey Cupcake! (a cupcake stand run out of an old aluminum-sided Airstream trailer) for a couple of red velvet and carrot cake cupcake treats infused on the spot with a shot of fresh whipped cream. They were delicious and I’m a sucker for cream cheese frosting.

Following the quick stop at the motel for cupcake scarfing and twenty minutes of power disco napping, we stopped at the gas station across the street to pick up a twelver of Ziegenbock and drove south to attend Leeann’s Full Moon Barndance which is usually a monthly potluck/hootenanny held in Leeann Atherton’s south Austin backyard. Of course, during big Austin events such as ACL and SXSW, there are additional barndances held.

This may have been the most fun I have ever had in Austin.

The backyard area is canvassed with a hodge-podge array of folding chairs and benches. People bring booze or food to share and there’s a barbeque area where all manner of meat is grilled and served. There’s a stage on the south end with a decent sound system and a sizeable dance area. And best of all, The Felice Brothers’ Winnebago was parked out front.

It’s Over from Kansas City played the last half of their jangly, tuneful set as we started tossing back the Ziegenbocks. They were followed by Tommy Womack playing pleasant acoustic ballads that were mostly easy to ignore. Finally, The Felice Brothers took the stage and over the course of their 45 minute set, stirred the crowd up into a frenzy. Ignoring their quieter ballads, they ripped through the barnburners of their catalog including, “Where’d You Get the Liquor?”, “Whiskey in My Whiskey”, “Cincinnati Queen”, “Frankie’s Gun!”, “Radio Song” and a delightfully ragged rendition of Jimmie Rodgers’ “T for Texas”. A good portion of the barndance faithful crowded the floor to dance and sing along, Simone Felice abandoned his drum kit to dance with Leeann and the booze flowed with vigor and purpose.

Trust me, readers: this band is NOT to be missed when they come to your town. Their records are fine, but barely hint at the verve and haphazard glory of the live shows. I’ve now had the pleasure of seeing The Felicers eight times over the past two and half weeks and they have delivered the goods every time.

It took maybe an hour to gather my wits and after we saw off the Winnebago, it was high time to get one last taste of Texas. We took a drive on the Capitol of Texas Highway through the lush, hilly outer reaches of the Austin area to County Line BBQ (on the lake) for an over-indulgent meat-tastic feast of barbequed chicken, sausage, beef ribs, brisket, pork ribs and turkey. I could have died a happy man that evening.

And so ended my inaugural trip to SXSW. Would I do it again? Without question.

Here’s to the great city of Austin, TX and all the fine people we were fortunate to meet and spend time with over the weekend. You are missed and loved.

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Okay, so Friday was kind of a Fail. Not totally – I still saw brilliant sets by Longwave, Yo La Tengo and The Felice Brothers among others, but in comparison to the epic nature of Thursday’s schedule, it was a bit of a letdown. Then again, I was starting to think that Thursday was a bit of an anomaly and that by sheer luck, everything had just worked out without my feet or legs giving up on me. The point is to see some good live music and have a good time, right? It doesn’t have to be fifteen bands per day, does it? Of course not. So with a renewed sense of perspective, I headed out Saturday morning determined to let it roll and make the most of whatever the day offered.

Saturday
After a nice brunch with friends at the Hyde Park Cafe, we took a drive out to the far-flung Mean Eyed Cat (located just across the lake/river from Zilker Park) for the MOJO Bootleg BBQ. Free barbeque, free beer and another chance to see The Felice Brothers playing on their outdoor stage made for a great way to kick off the day. And while the shotgun shack facade was entirely contrived upon closer inspection, the crowd, staff and general vibe at Mean Eyed Cat could not have been more welcoming. We were treated to the final few songs by folkie Liz Green whose mournful vocalizations and simple guitar accompaniment sound like she just popped out of the grooves from Harry Smith’s Anthology of American Folk Music. The Felicers arrived (sadly in a pickup truck and not their Winnebago) and set up for a lively set that really jump-started the crowd and the day overall. Christmas must have been feeling better as he slung on his bass and played the entire set without incident. They seemed genuinely happy to be there and fit in well with the overall vibe.

Following their performance, we made our way back across town to the convention center to finally check out Flatstock 16 – the poster convention sponsored by the American Poster Institute and featuring dozens of poster makers from around the world. It’s always a sight to behold and while there were countless examples of gorgeous poster art, I couldn’t help but feel like someone was pumping nitrous oxide into the convention hall as I became sleepier and sleepier. Before heading out, we also tried to scam an official swag bag from the SXSW registration booth, but to no avail.

Next up was a stop at the Palm Door where SxSeattle was being held. More open bar and freebies, but unfortunately we arrived just in time to catch The Shackeltons, yet another tired new wave revival band which featured an entirely off-putting lead singer whose distracting onstage antics included a lot of thumbsucking.

After re-loading on the free Fuze, we grabbed the car and found a parking spot near Red Fez, a tiny venue next to Antone’s not typically used for live music. Nevertheless, they hosted one of the best sets I saw all weekend when The Soundtrack of Our Lives appeared on the tiny stage. The narrow room was pretty well packed, so with my free Ziegenbock in hand, I (and many others) resorted to standing on my seat and peering over the high back of my booth to witness the Swedish rockers put on a powerful showcase jam-packed with new and instantly likeable songs. Lead vocalist Ebbot Lundberg positively owned the entire club as he led the band and commanded the crowd with all the authority of the clergyman he was seemingly dressed as.

Revitalized, we crossed the river for another jaunt on South Congress, this time to Home Slice Pizza with the hopes of seeing Joseph Arthur. Upon parking, approaching the restaurant and seeing Mr. Arthur walking the other direction, it seemed like they might be running a wee bit behind schedule. Taking the opportunity to chill, we scored seats at the counter inside and proceeded to be as thoroughly entertained as we had been all week by some guy named Mongo spinning pizza dough with what can only be described as reckless abandon. The pizza itself was delicious as were the Fireman’s #4 beers on tap. Heading outside to the patio where the music was, we heard the last few songs by Earlimart, who were perfectly fine though not demanding of another listen. It was then realized that the schedule was running more than a wee bit late and we were getting reports from friends waiting in line for Jim James that we better get there soon if we wanted to make it in.

Back in the car and back over the river to St. David’s Church – one of the more unusual SXSW venues. This Episcopalian church just north of 6th Street features a small worship area that is used for official showcases during the festival (mostly acoustic, I imagine) and seats maybe 250 people. By the time we arrived, badge holders and wristbands had already been admitted, but there was still a long line of people looking to pay the $15 cover to enter. This is the one time when my wristband actually came in handy as we went straight to the front of the line and were allowed to enter and grab seats almost immediately.

The opening act was the unforgettable Jacob Golden – sadly unforgettable for his flagrantly repulsive songs. The guy could sing and play guitar just as well as any other sad-eyed folkie, but the hyper-confessional lyrics laced with forced references to Aphex Twin and George Harrison among others left a sour taste in the mouth and was easily the worst performance I witnessed all week. Things improved somewhat with M. Ward taking the stage next. Although many of his songs tend to lack hooks or memorable melodies, he was a dramatic step up from Golden and his Muppet-like vocals and stage presence was oddly compelling. He is much more adept and at home on his acoustic guitar as opposed to his stultifying performance on the electric guitar just a day earlier. Perhaps a half hour into his set, he was joined onstage by My Morning Jacket’s Jim James and the set received a sublime boost. After one or two duets, it became James’ show and he delighted the crowd with a lengthy revue featuring numerous songs from the forthcoming MMJ record as well as a hearty selection of old favorites. M. Ward stuck around to support for a while, but ran off with Zooey before long to make their own showcase appearance, leaving James with fellow MMJ bandmate Carl Broemel to accompany him on pedal steel. Having been a casual MMJ fan for the past couple of years, I had never paid careful attention to their lyrics, so I was struck by the spirituality evident in many of James’ songs and that realization brought the show to a whole new level for me.

While there were other late night showcases going on that evening, the Jim James set seemed like a good natural ending point for the day and the festival as a whole. We adjourned the 6th Street area and headed up Guadalupe for a post-mortem at the outstanding original Ruby’s BBQ near the UT campus. And though the festival was all but over, we still had one more day in Austin to go and one more Felice Brothers performance on tap.

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On paper, Friday was looking like a relatively straightforward day. Not much in the way of conflicts and most everything was nicely centered around the main 6th Street drag. After having tromped around town to see fifteen acts the day before, I was looking forward to a nice, simple day. But things don’t always go the way they’re planned at SXSW.

Friday
The first order of business was to start on the south side of Town Lake (which I still maintain is actually a river) at the Frontgate Tickets Brunch. It was a little bit of an awkward feeling walking up to what may or may not have been a company only party, but at least one non-employee was spotted, so that was a relief of sorts. There was a tiny stage set up in one corner of the parking lot and in the other corner, there were a pair of stands handing out free breakfast tacos and beverages (including some tasty Bloody Marys). We munched on our breakfast tacos as we waited for The Felice Brothers who not only were not onstage at 12:30pm as planned, but also had failed to show up at all in their trademark Winnebago. It was apparent they were running late, so we decided to head across South Congress and down a couple of blocks to the Yard Dog Gallery to check out their setup and the Bloodshot Records day party.

With the first act having already started (and I cannot for the life of me figure out what her name is, though she was apparently subbing for Andre Williams), the tiny courtyard behind the gallery was already near capacity. I can only imagine how packed it must have been the night before when Okkervil River played. Nice set up overall, but it would have been futile to try and see anyone remotely popular there. After having a chance run in with some friends from Chicago, it was a quick walk back to Frontgate and upon our approach, the sweet sounds of The Felice Brothers could be heard wafting into the air.

With a Bloody Mary in one hand and the Texas sun beating down, the Felicers played a short, mellow set highlighted by Simone Felice’s beautiful reading of “The Devil is Real” from their first record. Sadly, bassist Christmas sat on the back corner of the tiny stage with his bass still in its case as he watched his comrades perform while nursing a left thumb wrapped in some heavy gauze. It later came to light that there had been a knife accident of sorts the night before and Christmas spent seven hours in the emergency room with band manager Daniel getting ten stitches in his thumb. Get well, Christmas.

So the start of the day had not quite gone exactly to plan, but nothing had flown off the rails and we were still on schedule. A trip back across the lake/river to downtown and our favorite parking garage on Brazos south of 2nd Street ($7/day with three ins/outs) didn’t take terribly long and soon we were standing in another parking lot on the corner of 7th and Red River as we waited for She & Him, aka the incomparable Zooey Deschanel and M. Ward. And let’s be honest here: the real reason to see She & Him is to gawk at Zooey who is one of the most captivating women on the planet. The pen filled up quickly as the time for their set drew near and Zooey (somewhat surprisingly) gave a perfectly fine performance. M. Ward, on the other hand, should stick to playing acoustic guitar as he fumbled multiple times while playing his reissued Gretsch Corvette. Unfortunately, acts at this stage were being broadcast on Minnesota Public Radio and only ended up playing three songs (maybe four or five) per set.

While coming down from my Zooey high, I next headed to Beauty Bar for more free booze and another performance by Brooklyn-based Longwave. I spied a cooler full of orange Sparks behind the bar and decided to finally enjoy my first can of the alcoholic energy drink purported to taste like Sweet Tarts. In retrospect, this may have helped me get through the afternoon and while the beverage was sickeningly sweet, it wasn’t that bad overall. Able to stretch their limbs a bit with a 45 minute set, Longwave delighted with not only the same group of fine new songs, but four tunes from The Strangest Things including “Wake Me When It’s Over”, “Everywhere You Turn” and “Daysleeper”.

As they launched into their final song, it was time to hike up the hill on the other side of I-35 and make our way to the French Legation Museum for an acoustic performance by Yo La Tengo. The French Legation compound is a leftover from the days when Texas was an independent republic and was recognized as such by three countries: The United States, England and France. Setting up a legation in a foreign country at that time was considered an extension of diplomacy if not a full-fledged diplomatic partnership that would be signified by an embassy. The grounds are expansive and lovely with a large stage and tent set up on the top of the hill near the main building and a smaller stage occupying the bottom of the hill, much of which was miraculously shaded by large trees. The main tent where Yo La Tengo performed was completely packed, so we picked a spot to the right of and just behind the band which turned out to be a fine vantage point. Ira, Georgia and James gave a wonderful performance including such favorites as “Sugarcube”, “I Feel Like Going Home”, “The Story of Yo La Tango” and “The Weakest Part”, proving yet again why they are one of the best bands in the country.

After a free bomb pop from The Ice Cream Man and enjoying several songs from an unknown trio playing the smaller, shadier stage, it was back across I-35 to investigate the Paste/Stereogum/Dell Lounge at Volume Night Club and The Whigs. While the band was playing perfectly fine, it felt to be about ten to fifteen degrees warmer in the club than it was outside (where temps had reached 90 degrees). This made for a quick visit, especially when it turned out that the drinks were not free. The ‘blogger cages’ (which resembled exotic dancer cages, but with geeks at keyboards rather than hotties in skimpy clothing) were an amusing diversion.

Feeling a little wilty, we stumbled across the street to Habana Calle 6 in hopes of catching The Felice Brothers for the second time today (partly out of curiosity to see how they’d fare with Christmas’ injury). Oddly, though, the posters for the Team Love Records showcase that evening did not have the Felicers listed at all and when 6pm came and went without any bands playing whatsoever, there was a suspicious feeling that this may be a bust. Strike One.

Okay, no big deal. Shit happens and it’s SXSW – there’s plenty more going on. We wolfed down a delicious Cuban sandwich at Habana and ran over to Headhunters for the Suburban Homes Records showcase where Two Cow Garage would be sharing a set with Jon Snodgrass of Drag the River fame. Upon arriving promptly for the 6:45pm set, we were informed that they had just finished playing. What? Apparently the 6pm band had been running late, so they switched set times with the Two Cow gang. Strike Two.

Alright, so I’m starting to feel a little discouraged now. But Chicago’s Tight Phantomz were going to be doing a set around the corner at the non-SXSW Creekside Lounge, so it seemed like a good time to head over there, have a drink and relax while waiting for their performance. Yet again, upon arriving, there were no indications that Tight Phantomz would be playing at all that evening. Postcards on the tables advertised six bands, none of whom were Tight Phantomz. The sound guys had a cheat sheet with all the bands playing that evening – no Tight Phantomz. Nobody in the joint has ever heard of this band. Strike Three – time for a Jameson.

While attempting to wash away the stink of Epic Schedule Fail with booze, however, Mike from Tight Phantomz enters the room. I immediately grab him and find out they’re not playing until 10:45pm that evening. Interesting. So we decide to go back to the motel, wash up and head back downtown around 10pm to get our fill of Tight Phantomz. Famous last words. We went back to the motel, but after getting settled in and taking a short power nap, it became clear that the day had been somewhat of a bust and rest would be the most important thing. After all, tomorrow’s Saturday with a chance to start over and make SXSW bend to my will.

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While the bulk of the SXSW showcasing clubs are located on or near 6th Street between Red River and Congress Avenues, there are also multiple venues dotted across the area west of Congress and a concentration of venues in the South Congress area on the other side of Town Lake (which looks suspiciously more like a river than a lake). So your perfect schedule may feature shows in multiple areas throughout the day and accomplishing that is no small feat when taking downtown traffic, parking and the inevitable slippery schedules at the individual venues into account. Thursday was a day that would put my festival-going skills to the test.

Thursday
The day started off delightfully enough with a migas breakfast at Star Seeds Cafe north of the downtown area. We ran a little long, so it was a bit of a wild ride down to Jovita’s on South 1st Street (across the lake/river) to catch THIS Is American Music: a group of four like-minded bands who did a short tour of the Midwest late last year. After parking in the nearby residential neighborhood, the strains of “The Great Gravitron Massacre” could be heard as Columbus, Ohio natives Two Cow Garage had already taken the stage, er… patio. The Drams were next and surprisingly sharp given that they had already given a blistering set the night before at Mother Egan’s and were just about to head out to make another day party at Club Deville. Not at all surprising was Glossary giving the best set of the bunch with their swinging rhythms and road-weary melodies. Local favorites Grand Champeen brought up the rear with loud, rollicking versions of their tame recorded material before being joined on-patio by their lingering mates from Two Cow and Glossary for an all-star (and note perfect) rendition of “Born to Run”. Sadly, it was announced that this had been the final gathering of THIS Is American Music, but there was a joyful spirit in the air that gave buoyancy to the rest of the afternoon.

There was little time to linger afterwards, so margaritas were quickly downed and we drove into the heart of the beast to catch some mid and late afternoon showcases on 6th Street. Traffic was thick as a slice of Texas toast, so hopes of catching the last half of Motorhead’s 3pm set at Stubb’s were quickly dashed. Instead, a beeline was made for Maggie Mae’s and the Planetary Group’s Skewer BBQ day party. Maggie Mae’s is a classic Austin venue that is partially covered and partially open to the elements, although the rooftop area was completely covered by a large temporary tent structure. I avoided the free barbeque which looked like it had been sitting out for a while, but in typical day party fashion, the free booze was flowing and I gladly enjoyed a couple of complimentary beers while shuttling back and forth between Maggie Mae’s rooftop and the inexplicably connected Thirsty Nickel’s music room.

First up was a unknown power trio at the Thirsty Nickel. I tried to find out who they were after the fact, but it kind of doesn’t matter seeing as how they did not leave much of an impression. They did, however, do a pretty crappy and uninspired version of The Who’s “My Generation”. I was only killing time at that point, so after they finished I moved back over to Maggie Mae’s to see the last few songs by Look See Proof, a quartet of young Brits playing lackluster emo/new wave tunes accompanied by the ever more ubiquitous yelpy vocals. Finally, the band I’d come to see came on – Brooklyn’s very own Longwave. Fresh from wrapping up their new album and without a label, they powered through a 25 minute set featuring all new material with the exception of “Tidal Wave” from their signature album, 2003′s The Strangest Things. They’re not a band that is reinventing music, but they write some damn catchy songs and put on a good show. Back over at the Thirsty Nickel, a rhythm & blues revival band was working up the crowd if not quite working them into a frenzy. Highly entertaining in a New Orleans kind of way and a fun diversion. Could have sworn the lead singer told me they were called Lil Def, but who knows if I heard her right over the din. The day party wrapped up with a performance by Elf Power who played their typical fine assortment of jangly songs, but seemed to be missing at least one member. There were a good two to three dozen signed and numbered limited edition Skewer BBQ posters adorning the walls of Maggie Mae’s and a bouncer kindly agreed to look the other way while I removed one as a souvenir. Unofficial swag!

An attempt was made to check out The Black Angels at Red-Eyed Fly, but it was not meant to be as there was a line of badges and wristbands half a block long. So as the evening drew near, it was time to make another drive across the lake/river to the South Congress area, this time to check out the unofficial South by San Jose lineup sponsored by Jo’s Coffee in the San Jose Hotel’s parking lot. A distinctly different vibe in comparison with 6th Street, to be sure. Still busy, yes, but a more mature crowd and a less frantic scene overall. Bobby Bare, Jr. took the stage slightly before (!) his scheduled time and played a few acoustic songs before launching into the rock with his band featuring Son Volt’s Chris Masterson on lead guitar. After that rousing set, The Felice Brothers came on just as the sun was going down to deliver their ragged tales of murdered cabaret singers, Cincinnati seductresses and general barnyard mayhem. They seemed genuinely pleased to be performing in such a welcoming atmosphere after somehow being booked into the posh bottle service only gentlemen’s club, Pangaea, the night before.

Following the Felice Brothers, it was time to make another move to 6th Street, specifically Habana Calle 6, for the Undertow Music Collective’s showcase. Upon entering, my wristband was scanned for the first time in two days and I began to realize it may have been an unnecessary expenditure. Magnolia Summer from St. Louis was just about to get started but unfortunately they were without their drummer and their typically catchy alt.country tunes just didn’t translate. The real attraction of the evening, however, was Glossary and the decent-sized crowd was augmented by members from Two Cow Garage and The Drams coming out to support the Murfreesboro band giving their last ’08 SXSW performance before leaving to hook up with Drive By Truckers for a pair of shows in Memphis and Nashville. If Glossary had earlier put on the best set of the morning at Jovita’s, they brought their A+ game for the official showcase at Habana Calle 6 and put on the best set of the day, hands down. There was a sense of urgency (perhaps brought on by the looming ten hour drive) but also an assured steadiness as they confidently rocked out a selection of the best songs from their past three records. Among the highlights was Two Cow’s Shane Sweeney joining the band onstage to take the second verse on “Blood on the Knobs” shortly after he drunkenly confided to me that he had ‘officially made himself a member of Glossary’.

Although the day had been long and taxing, there was still one more pair of acts to catch before the end of the night, so I hoofed the half mile march to the legendary Antone’s on the other end of the 6th Street scene to catch the incredible Buddy Miller who was just a few songs into his set upon my arrival. The room was jam packed with an older crowd who were treated not only to Miller’s remarkable guitar playing, but also a fine duet with drummer and fellow Spyboy veteran Brady Blades, Jr. followed by two more duets with surprise guest Tift Merritt. Unfortunately, the evening ended with the crowd thinning out considerably before the closing set by Austin local James McMurtry. While he eschewed his superior back catalog for his bland newer material, he still put on a performance that demanded attention as his cat-like glance darted across the room from fan to fan while weaving stories of hard luck that must surely make his novelist father proud.

By that time, I’d seen fifteen acts at six venues and crossed the lake/river four times over the course of twelve hours and it was time to return to the motel for some serious crashing. Of course, the first thing that starts running through your mind as you lay down in bed is what’s on tap for the next day. And while I did have a schedule more or less mapped out, Friday would be the day to teach me that SXSW can and will take your best thought out plans and lay them to waste in a flash.

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Our friend Matt Sanders was in Austin over the weekend and agreed to detail his experience in a segment we call “A SXSW Memoir”. In the first of his entries, Matt recaps day one of his SXSW 2008, which featured a mix of national and local talents…

Let’s just start by saying this: more so than any other traditional music festival, SXSW is a grind. I kept hearing this word unconsciously escape from my lips when discussing the events of the day with other festival attendees and it’s hard to appreciate how grueling the long weekend can be without being there. Nevertheless, the payoffs are extreme for the rabid music fan. Live music blasts from what seems to be every doorway, window and street corner on Austin’s 6th Street from noon until well after midnight. Throngs of tune-seekers looking to catch the latest buzz band, getting drunk on free beer, becoming bloated on complimentary barbeque and scurrying to see their favorite acts from all around the world playing brief sets in mostly tiny to medium-sized clubs. It’s one hell of a scene and while I can’t possibly do it justice, I can at least recount my own SXSW grind.

Wednesday
We arrive from Chicago ahead of schedule, grab our bags, jump in the rental car and immediately shoot over to Waterloo Records to secure wristbands which went on sale to the general public earlier in the morning. Arriving prior to 11am, there are still wristbands available and we plunk down $165 each for the precious bracelets. This turns out to be my personal biggest mistake of the week as the overwhelming majority of the shows I end up attending are free and open to the public. Whoops. Yet on Wednesday morning, I’m feeling a sense of relief that I will more or less be able to attend just about any show I wish through Saturday night.

After checking into our cheap motel north of downtown and taking a disco nap, we head out to Mother Egan’s Irish Pub where the Guitartown/Conqueroo showcase is taking place all afternoon and well into the evening. One of the things I noticed early on was how much the performing musicians hang out before and after their sets at the various showcases around town. It’s uncommon to see artists in the areas open to the general public at the typical summer festivals and while it’s not uncommon to see them hanging out when performing at small clubs, it’s never on the scale witnessed here. The Silos’ Walter Salas-Humara is spotted walking across the street to grab a fish taco at Wahoo’s, Brent Best and Keith Killoren of The Drams smoke cigarettes just outside the club and poke fun at the cheesy cover band performing at nearby Opal Divine’s and Jon Dee Graham offers hugs to anyone who wants one following his blistering set. Which, by the way, was my personal SXSW kickoff music.

Playing with a band of talented locals backing him up (including Son Volt’s Andrew DuPlantis on bass), local Austin fixture Jon Dee Graham performed a brief set of his finer songs showcasing his John Hiatt-esque songwriting skills, his gravelly Tom Waits-like voice and Stratocaster chops not unlike those of Richard Thompson. Another local, Chip Robinson, takes the stage next and performs a solid, if mostly forgettable, set of twangy guitar rock. Blue Mountain (featuring Wilco bassist John Stirratt’s twin, Laurie, on bass) followed with a loud, powerful rock set that sounds remarkably better than their anemic street festival performance in Chicago last summer. Next up was the ‘surprise guest’ of the evening: Abigail Washburn supported by the great Bela Fleck. While I’m not a huge fan of bluegrass music, it’s impossible to ignore the fine mountain melodies conjured up by the quartet on their ban jos, mandolins, guitars and violins. The set by The Silos turns out to be a bit of a let down which was somewhat expected given the recent death of bassist Drew Glackin (to whom the show is dedicated), but unfortunately drummer Konrad Meissner is not in attendance due to previous obligations, so leader Salas-Humara is surrounded by an unfamiliar backing band. Jon Dee Graham joins in on lead guitar which helps matters somewhat and the saving grace is their always impressive rendition of The Modern Lovers’ “I’m Straight”. Patty Hurst Shifter’s performance leaves no trace in the memory at all and the evening is capped off with a strong, if workmanlike, performance by The Drams.

There’s still time left in the evening, so after enjoying a chat with Two Cow Garage’s Micah Schnabel about their recent European tour and forthcoming album, it’s off to the 6th Street area to the miniscule Friends to see the only weekend performance by Denton, TX favorites Centro-matic. Arriving early proves to be a good thing as the tiny club fills up while Timothy Bracey’s New Romance plays a mostly average set. The area between the stage and the mixing board is so cramped that audience members are recruited to help Centro-matic get their amps up on stage. Once the music begins, it’s easily the best set of the day as the band rips through a nicely balanced selection of new songs from the forthcoming album and old favorites. Most groups don’t have the inclination or opportunity to give encores at a festival dominated by the 25 minute ‘industry set’, but it’s the end of the night and when the crowd screams for more following the last son g, Will Johnson and the gang oblige with a transcendent version of The English Beat’s “Save It for Later”.

All in all, it was a good way to start off the festival and the grind has not kicked in at all. This was a rare instance where I took the tack of hanging out at one club for most of the day/evening. That would not prove to be the case on Thursday.

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