PUYALLUP'S SWEETKISS MOMMA REPRESENT >>>

On the ride to our hotel late Wednesday night, the cab driver, a middle age Jamaican American, told us SXSW seems to have returned to its old form this year - after a down year last year thanks to the shitty economy. It makes sense, of course. Last year at this time I was stockpiling cans of baked beans, potato guns, Oliver Stone films, bloody Mary mix and water in my family's basement - firmly preparing for post econo-apocalyptic life (or at the very least questioning my decision to love newspapers so much).

This year is different, though. Things are still VERY FUCKED in our world - don't get me wrong - but perhaps we've all just learned to live a little better with the insecurity. Maybe our stress tolerance has grown as strong as Tacoma's PBR tolerance. Or, maybe, things have just gotten a little better.

Either way, the crowds, packed hotels, packed restaurants and cab drivers all seem to agree - SXSW is in full effect this year.

We registered for SXSW late (and by "we" - I mean my wife and me). We also live south of Sixth Avenue in Tacoma, meaning shelling out ridiculous amounts of cash for "the finer things" doesn't have much appeal for us. We're simple, T-Town folks.  What I'm getting at is this: With the lateness of our registration, mixed with our thrifty streak, our hotel (a very strange operation - having previously been an apartment complex before recently becoming a hotel/condo development) is WAY THE FUCK out there - nowhere near downtown Austin. We may actually be staying in Houston, I'm not entirely sure. All I know is the water smells funny and housekeeping doesn't take no for an answer.  Our Jamaican American friend told us it'd be a $30 cab ride from downtown, but then he also offered us a deal as we exited his yellow minivan - passing us his number on a torn piece of notebook paper. All of Austin hustles SXSW, so this is to be expected. My wife and I briefly tried to estimate how much money the entire SXSW machine brings to Austin (Interactive, Film and Music), but we lost steam somewhere around, "a whole shit-ton." Then we ordered a couple more $8 margaritas.

We rode the bus downtown Thursday morning; it took almost as long as it did to fly from Denver to Austin. It was real, though, and showed a slice of this town you don't see from the Hilton lobby. There seems to be a church on every corner of this place, and bizarre restaurant chains like Luby's and Whataburger rule supreme. And, of course, things are BIG here. It's Texas, after all. The stereotype is true.

After picking up our badges, grabbing press credentials and smuggling a tote bag full of peanut butter bars and Diet Pepsi out of the press "lounge," we headed out to see what we came for: the music.

Although I provided an itinerary yesterday of what I thought would be Thursday's schedule, this - of course - got skewed almost from the get go. Here's a look at musical highlights (witnessed by the Weekly Volcano, at least) from Thursday at SXSW:

THE MIDDLE EAST

After lunch (including the aforementioned margaritas), we wandered into the last leg of one of a few Paste Magazine parties this week in Austin. Australia's The Middle East was just taking the stage, and we were lucky to have been in attendance by chance.

Like so many bands these days, The Middle East has the Internet and specifically the blogosphere to thank for its (at this point limited, but growing) stateside success. Certainly bigger Down Under than in the U.S. at this point, the band was basically introduced to Americans through the blog I Guess I'm Floating - and the subsequent mass blog chatter it created. Pitchfork has since started singing The Middle East's praises as well. Domestically, you can find one record from the band (I believe): The Recordings of the Middle East.

Though the band played on four songs to conclude the Paste party (they had another engagement to attend to) - and the fourth song was only milked out by the persistence of the crowd's applause - what the band offered in that short time was nothing short of inspiring. Relying heavily on well-oiled harmonies and varied percussion - not to mention a flute and a horn, from time to time - the six people on stage (I think - there could've been someone hiding) had a sound that was as full as those Aussies looked packed on stage. Carrying finger plucked guitars and vocal offerings from nearly everyone on stage - it sounded like each player had a hand in the percussion as well - which was deceiving, since I think only five of the six actually did. These guys are well worth a Google.

SWEETKISS MOMMA

A smattering of applause from the smattering of people emerged when SweetKiss Momma announced their Puyallup roots to an Austin parking lot. Playing the "Austin Rock Fest Stage" - the band's presence really exemplifies the beast SXSW has become. Not only are there a thousand bands in Austin this week that are "officially" part of SXSW, but there are just as many here that aren't "official." Music pours out of every crevices of this town, and once you're in the middle of the madness it doesn't really matter whether it's "official" or not. Bands come to SXSW to get heard and make connections, and if your music is here - one way or another - you have a chance of accomplishing that goal.

It was 7 p.m. Austin time - or thereabouts - when SweetKiss Momma started doling out their "dirty swamp rock" on SXSW. An appearance arranged by Joey G - who also "arranged" for a number of Tacoma bands to play "unofficial" SXSW shows this week - SweetKiss Momma, despite the modest turnout, was visibly thrilled to be a part of the craziness. Jeff, the band's lead singer, recalled a story of happening into a Drive By Truckers show the night before, and handed me an official SweetKiss Momma SXSW sampler of songs set to be released in April.

Somewhat ironically described as "Texas rock" in an unofficial online listing of SXSW events, the Puyallup band didn't disappoint. Before SweetKiss Momma's final song, they asked the crowd if they were interested in a ballad. When the soundman pointed out they only had a few minutes left on stage, they decided to say, "fuck it " and do what the band does best - Texas rock brought to you from Puyallup.

THE BESNARD LAKES

This band is heavy as shit. From Quebec, and formed around a husband and wife duo, the band took the quintessential Stub's stage last night and delivered exactly what people seemed to come for - a slow, crawling, shoegazing, sonic pummeling. We only caught the band's final two songs, and part of that was spent in line for the bathroom, but what was there to witness was nonetheless impressive. My only questioning thought was: Does the drummer ever get bored? Doesn't he, somewhere, have a need for speed?

Judging by the overwhelmingly positive response of the crowd, I soon surmised he probably doesn't much care at this point. It's all good.

THE SOFT PACK

Formerly The Muslims, a name they gave up probably because they were sick of TSA cavity searches, San Diego's The Soft Pack look like kids you went to high school with - aside from the balding drummer. He looks young himself, however, just in a balding drummer kind of way.

Taking the Stubb's stage after The Besnard Lakes, and announcing (perhaps even accurately) that it was probably the biggest crowd they've played for - The Soft Packs delivered on of SXSW's best sets so far - at least in this drunken journalist's humble opinion.

Here's what made the difference: Three or four songs in, when it seemed like the band had already given you all they had - which was impressive, yes, but not jaw-dropping - The Soft Pack shifted into another gear, like a running back hitting the hole. With a far less meandering Pavement feel, mashed together with what must be a San Diego punk/pop secret side - this is a band, as a Tweet from the Portland Mercury's press contingent in Austin put it, that sounds better the more out of tune they are. There's certainly some truth to that. As the set continued, The Muslims, er, The Soft Pack seemed to loosen up and let go a little - no doubt reveling in the darkening Austin night in front of them and the bobbing, industry masses.

LINK: More photos from Driscoll's Day One at SXSW

Photos: Jennifer Driscoll