Being a SXSW virgin, I'm still getting the hang of how to best navigate the festival. Tuesday night, I basically hunkered down at one specific club. Last night, I felt the need to compensate by hitting somewhere between seven and eight clubs. It was a whirlwind evening, but an absolute blast.

I started early at ND at 501 Studios on the East side. My intention was to catch all of John Maus' set, but I only ended up getting there in time for his last two songs. On one wall of the venue was a massive screen displaying intensely psychedelic visuals, but the real show was Maus himself. Being more familiar with his music than his backstory, I wasn't sure what to expect, so I was pretty amused to discover that Maus is a very average-looking dude, singing along to backing tracks on a Roland 404 sampler while gesticulating awkwardly, pumping his fists, and doing jumping jacks and other callisthenic exercises. If he'd sung his bleary baritone pop in drag from atop an African elephant, I think it actually would have felt less weird. It was an endearing performance, and the crowd seemed to be digging it.

The next band I saw was Woodsman—jammy, trippy rockers from Colorado. They played on an outdoor stage at Cheer Up Charlie's, which was the perfect setting for their psychoactive noodling. The set started slow, building gradually into sweeping stoner rock. It was balmy, the sun had just set, and gusts of wind would occasionally whorl up light clouds of dust into the crowd's eyes. By the end of their epic first song, Woodsman guitarist Mark Demolar had broken two strings on his guitar. While a stagehand rushed to procure another, bandmate Trevor Peterson lent his guitar to Demolar, and the band launched into another track. Peterson sang into a mic that was plugged into a dizzying array of effects pedals, producing strange and alien sounds. When Peterson was handed a new axe, the band tore into more material from their awesome new record Rare Forms. By the time their set wound down, distant searchlights were tracing faint arcs in the night sky behind them. It was a magical performance, and one that I seriously enjoyed. So, too, apparently, did the ladies from No Joy, who I happened to spy in the crowd.

From there, I hoofed it to a club called Fuze, where young Vallejo rapper Droop-E was set to perform. Before Droop-E (aka Earl Stevens, Jr.) came on, an emcee thanked the crowd and dished about how hiphop at SXSW was a fairly recent phenomenon, dating back—in his estimation—only about three or four years (2011 marks the festival's twenty-fifth anniversary. Hiphop and rap music have arguably been around for at least thirty years). I was pumped when Droop-E and his requisite Hype Man took the stage. His recent free EP BLVCK Diamond Life is out-of-this-world awesome, with West Coast cadences poured over sick beats and Sade Adu samples.

"Sade is pretty much the greatest artist ever," Droop-E told the disbelieving crowd. "[She's in the] top ten at least."

As someone who's spent an inordinate amount of time and energy tracking and attempting to document the recent resurgence in adult contemporary, smooth jazz, soft rock, and new age sounds in various genre varietals of independent music, I had no problem stomaching Droop-E's claim. BLVCK Diamond Life constitutes one of the most successful attempts at reviving and recontextualizing outré retro schmaltz.

He kicked his set off with "I'm Loaded" (which ingeniously samples Sade singing "I'm lonely" in such a way that it sounds like she's echoing Droop-E's braggadocio), and followed it with "Like a Tattoo," "Hungry," and the Björk-sampling "Spend the Night." Though Droop-E and his Hype Man plugged BLVCK Diamond Life ad infinitum, I was impressed that they never mentioned Droop-E's blood connection to big-timer E-40 (E-40 is his father, Suga-T and D-Shot are his aunt and uncle). The kid's going to make it on his own damn steam. If I had any complaints about Droop-E's set, it would be that a) it was way too short and b) he deserved a much, much bigger crowd.

After Droop-E, I flitted in and out of a handful of clubs, catching snippets of DJ sets and performances by various UK artists. By the end of the night, I was at Mohawk, taking in some of hard-rap collective Curren$y's set and music by solo emo-step artist Baths. I'd recently seen Baths in Seattle, but last night afforded me a more intimate opportunity to take in some of the new songs he's been playing on the road. They seemed to be even more melodramatic than his Cerulean songs, if you can believe it. 

Today, I intend to catch as many (or more) bands, including some locals. And the forecast is for even warmer weather. To cite the title of a Woodsman jam, I'll have to try and "Beat the Heat."

NOW IN 3-D >>>

For my inaugural night at Austin's SXSW music festival, I might have behaved somewhat lazily, hustling over to one venue and staying there for the duration of the evening's programming. To be fair, Emo's Jr. is one of Austin's most renowned clubs (also the only Austin venue that myself and the Seattle musicians I'm crashing with had already heard a lot about), and their showcase last night was curated by the taste-makers at Pitchfork Media. Literally every band on deck was amazing, so I think I can be pardoned for my lack of adventurousness. 

The performers were segregated along pretty traditional, genre-based lines, with the electronic acts playing on the cramped indoor stage and the rock bands playing on the venue's roomier outdoor stage. Acoustically, this made perfect sense, but it also bifurcated the crowd, save for the brave souls willing to pinball between stages, squirming their way through the packed house.

I started out at the outdoor stage for No Joy's set. Frontwomen Jasmine White-Glutz and Laura Lloyd were phenomenal, rocking out on complementary noise-pop riffs while the band's male half served as rhythm section. White-Glutz and Loyd wore almost identical outfits-little boots, black knee-high socks, torn stockings, high-wasted denim cutoff shorts-and did enough headbanging and flaxen hair-whipping between them to compensate for the crowd's noted lack of movement. The ladies re-tuned their guitars after almost every song, but with each instrument running into a menagerie of pedals, they managed to make these necessary lulls sound like strange, distorted ambient pieces. Their riffing was ferocious and impressive-a keen reminder that shoegaze-y bands, while mellow on record, are almost always incredibly heavy live. In the crowd, I spotted Alex Gehring, bassist for Ringo Deathstarr, an Austin-based band with a similarly gauzy, gain-soaked sound. If she's a No Joy fan, it wouldn't surprise me.

Following No Joy, I ducked inside for the remainder of the evening. Denver's DIY-crossover rave artist Travis Egedy/Pictureplane was up next, and his set, while fleeting, was one of the better ones I've heard from him. Unlike the especially bored-looking underage skater boy chilling up front by the stage, I was having a blast watching Egedy burn through the best and most intoxicating cuts from his Dark Rift LP. "Goth Star" in particular sounded terrific, with Egedy adding new arpeggiated embellishments via his Microkorg synthesizer. "I forgot to put on eyeliner," Egedy joked mid-set. The free-spirited musician also told the sweaty, gyrating crowd, "You can live your life however you want" (come for the dance music, stay for the motivational speaking, I guess). Throughout Egedy's set, colored strobes went off and visuals-being edited and "DJed" live by a dude on stage left-were projected at a wonky angle behind the stage. It was a little difficult to make out what, exactly, the visuals were, but I know they included cartoons, porno footage, and GAP commercials. He closed with a new song that absolutely slayed. His new record is hotly anticipated, and if his new material is any indication, it will employ just as much savvy sampling as Dark Rift.

There was a fairly long wait between Pictureplane and the night's next indoor performers, Mount Kimbie, which was partially ameliorated by the projection of 3-D music videos against one of the walls of the club. Volunteers had been handing out Pitchfork-branded 3-D glasses all night long, so when the videos started, it solved the night's first big mystery, namely: WTF is up with all the glasses? The clips of Deerhunter, Wavves, and Das Racist were rad, but weren't exactly mind-blowing (to be fair, neither was Avatar). People who like to bitch and moan about Pitchfork's pervasive influence can relish this new  development: the website's annexation of a whole 'nother dimension.

When Mount Kimbie finally "mounted" the stage, they were slow to set up, beset by gear issues and miscommunication with the sound guy (it's hard to get that throbbing, skull-splitting dubstep bass just right). By the time their set started, the interior of Emo's had become, for the first time last night, almost unbearably packed. Shoulder-to-shoulder with the rest of the crowd, I cringed through Mount Kimbie's set-clearly, the UK duo was playing their synth melodies and triggering their Roland drum pad samples with absolute precision, but the mix was all wrong. The band attributed it to a lack of "mid-low" tones, but their high end sounds were also excruciatingly shrill. Their heavily-reverbed bass was overpowering, and even their elegiac guitar chords where marred by feedback. Nevertheless, watching them pound out halfstep rhythms live on a partial onstage kit was impressive to say the least, and their ethereal rendition of "Maybes" (from their EP of the same name) made for an ideal set-closer. The band, clearly frustrated, encouraged fans to see them again later in the week (at a different club), and as soon as they were done playing, they cracked open some tallboys and started drowning their sorrows.

The night was capped with a performance by another UK electronic act, Gold Panda, who looked like a Jedi as he danced around with his hood up, triggering samples. His hour-long set was virtually free of pauses (I counted maybe three total), and the whole room was seriously vibing on it. He was blessed with a far better mix than Mount Kimbie, and the volume of his throbbing bass hit the exact right sadomasochistic sweet spot. "This is my jam!" a girl next to me screamed as GP (real name: Derwin Panda) launched into his second song, "You," from his Lucky Shiner LP. Throughout his set, Panda dramatically accelerated and decelerated his beats, stacking new slabs of percussive loops over them continuously and demonstrating an expert knack for manipulating the audience. Endorphin levels in the crowd were seriously high, and after Panda wrapped with "Quitter's Raga," they demanded an encore. The Emo's management was not having it, and the throng, dazed, dispersed into the muggy Austin night.

It would have been nice to catch a couple more of the outdoor bands, particularly SF jammers Weekend, but navigation inside the venue was treacherous at best. Tonight, I intend to be a lot more peripatetic. I'll let you know how that goes...

FIRST IMPRESSIONS >>>

Walking through crowded Sixth Street in downtown Austin was startlingly similar to strolling on the midway at a carnival. Enormous crowds of people push past each other, music blaring from every location, the smell of food carts sweetening the air, lights garishly illuminating the fronts of buildings which-frankly-begin to resemble haunted houses full of giddy revelers.

I passed by a burning trashcan that no one had any intention of putting out.

My first night at SXSW was decidedly a learning experience. After trying and failing to squeeze in to see Weekend at the Pitchfork-curated show, I ducked into a bar that was being entertained by a live DJ spinning breakbeats. On the wall was a sign that boasted "no irony."

Walking around on Sixth Street, I ran into my first Tacomans here in Austin: The Night Beats. Apparently, they are playing something like 12 shows over the next few days. I have to find time to see them and show them my support.

Afterward, I hit up Esther's Follies to catch some live standup from some of my favorites, including Shane Mauss (of Last Comic Standing notoriety, perhaps), Doug Benson, Eugene Mirman and Aziz Ansari.

As the night was getting long, I decided it was worth another try at seeing a band, so I headed to the Batbar and saw a set from Mister Heavenly, a super group of sorts featuring Nick Thorburn (Islands, the Unicorns), Honus Wagner (Man Man), Joe Plummer (Modest Mouse) and actor Michael Cera on bass. Their music was dark and stompy, with an unexpected doo wop flavor. A nice way to end the night.

Well, it would have been if I hadn't decided to stop at that Mexican restaurant and eat a shitty torta with a chicken-fried steak in the middle before heading back to my hostel. That was another, harsher learning experience.

THE LOWDOWN ON WHAT'S UP THIS WEEKEND >>>

WEATHER REPORT

Friday: Cloudy, hi 51, lo 41

Saturday: Rain, hi 49, lo 42

Sunday: Rather cloudy, rain possible, hi 49, lo 44

>>> MARCH 11 - 12: Jordan Family Circus

The circus is a dying art - and the circus-lifer is a dying breed. Bearded ladies just don't go as far as they once did. Sure, someday there may be an iPhone app replicating the experience only achieved by rings of fire, balancing acts, shitty peanuts and captive wild animals. But what fun will that be? This weekend the Jordan Family Circus sets up its tents at the Puyallup Fairgrounds, more than ready to stick their entire head in a wild beast's mouth for nothing more than your applause ... and a small entrance fee. See it while you still can.

• Puyallup Fairgrounds - Paulhamus Arena, $16 Adult, $12 Children 3-12, 110 Ninth Ave. SW, Tacoma, thejordanworldcircus.com]

>>> SATURDAY, MARCH 12: The Great Leprechaun Hunt

The Tacoma Mob Riders are at it again -- planning another booze fueled bicycle cruise for Tacoma's dedicated peddlers this weekend. Starting off at everyone's favorite beer and hot dog destination, The Red Hot (because nothing says, "Let's go excercise!" like a stomach full of hot dogs and beer), The Great Leprechaun Hunt Bicylce Booze Cruz will kick off at 7 p.m. and offer riders a chance to mingle, drink, ride and repeat -- with this time of year's obligatory Irish green thrown in for good measure.

• Starts at The Red Hot, 7 p.m., free, 2914 Sixth Ave.., Tacoma, 253.779.0229

>>> SUNDAY, MARCH 13: Jim Lynch & Stephanie Kallos

Weekly Volcano readers recently named Jim Lynch "Best Writer" in our 2011 Best of Olympia issue. Taking nothing away from those who cast votes, they were really just following the overall trend. Jim Lynch is getting props from high and low, and they're all well deserved. His novels, 2006's The Highest Tide, and the more recent (and most awesome) Border Songs have both been gushed over by book critic types from across the land. Sunday, Lynch and fellow author Stephanie Kallos, who spent 20 years in the theater business before turning her attention to writing, will be at the Tacoma Art Museum to talk about how the Northwest has inspirted their work -- part of the Literacy Month Author Series.

• Tacoma Art Museum, 2 p.m., $10, 1701 Pacific Ave., Tacoma, 253.272.4258.

>>> WHERE OUR STAFF IS GOING

NIKKI TALOTTA Features Writer
Well, I'm back at work this weekend, so I'm sure I'll be hearing about all the great shows I'm missing. But no bother, I'll be happy shaking it behind the bar, where all kinds of fun things happen. (Check out my Spew Blog, "Behind Bars" for more on that.) Anyway, what's really got me shaking is the nerve-racking wait time to see if an offer we put on a new house goes through! Geez - big things for Volcano staff lately, engagements, babies, new houses - there must be something in the paycheck ink.

MATT DRISCOLL Editor
For the first weekend in as long as I can remember we don't have a toddler birthday party to attend this weekend, so I'll probably ... Wait. Crap. My wife just texted. Guess we got invited to a toddler birthday party. So there you go ...

BRETT CHIHON Meat Market Correspondent/Features Writer
I have my sights set on the Matador tequila bar for Friday night, which means I've penciled in a headache for Saturday morning.

CHRISTIAN CARVAJAL: Theater Critic
Between rounds of wedding plans, I'll be reviewing Love, Sex, and the IRS at OLT and The Floating World at PLU. Best of all, I get to watch hostile E.T.s kick the crap out of my home town in Battle: Los Angeles. Go, Team Alien!

ALEC CLAYTON: Visual Arts Critic
More theater shit. Going to see Love, Sex and the IRS at Olympia Little Theatre. And, if you want to fudge on the definition of weekend, I'm going to see the high school art exhibit at South Puget Sound Community College to review it for this fine rag (actually going this afternoon).

JOANN VARNELL Theater Critic
This weekend (hopefully), I will be crafty and make curtains for my son's room in anticipation of transitioning him to spend nights in there. Other than that, I got nothin'.

STEVE DUNKELBERGER Nightlife Correspondent
I'm headed to the Tacoma Opera then Toxic 253 Roller Derby, Lenten stuff and maybe start planting my pea patch.

JOE IZENMAN Theater and Music Writer
With the missus away for her hometown bridal shower, it's 100% MAXIMUM PARTY TIME at Casa Izenman. Featuring such exciting party activities as playing Settlers of Catan, DnD character creation, maybe a chess game or two, and a bike ride to the final monthly off-season Proctor Farmer's Market. NEWS FLASH: I am a huge nerd.

REV. ADAM MCKINNEY Features Writer
In between going to Santee's show on Friday and all of the other totally fun things I'm doing this weekend, I will be scrambling to figure out last-minute accommodations for my trip down to SXSW. If there are any non-serial-killers out there reading this, I will gladly stay at your house for the days of the 14th-16th or the 20th-22nd.

JENNIFER JOHNSON Food and Lifestyles Writer
The DoDo Show at Mad Hat Tea Friday evening. Volunteering at the Empowerment Center Saturday morning. Then attending the vocal masterworks concert at Tacoma Community College Saturday night. Sunday church service followed by potluck dinner with friends.

RON SWARNER Publisher
Friday night I'm hitting MOVE! #18, followed by embarrassing ass shaking during Rare Groove night at The Tempest. Sunday afternoon I'll clean up for the Tacoma Opera. The remaining time gaps will be filled with thick and thin crust research for our Tournament of Pizza, which begins March 17.

LINK: More arts and entertainment events in the South Sound

HAPPY, HAPPY, JOY, JOY >>>

The annual SXSW music festival is quickly approaching. Every year thousands upon thousands of music industry types (hopeful bands, promoters, label folks, music journalists, sometimes Matt Driscoll) converge on Austin, Texas for one of the largest and most hyped happenings of the year.

Once again this year the Weekly Volcano is proud and honored to be one of only 40-or-so alternative press papers around the country chosen as an official co-sponsor of the 2011 SXSW Music festival. Next week the venerable Rev. Adam McKinney and Jason Baxter will both be travelling to Texas, no doubt to partake in too many Lone Star Beers, and also (hopefully) to report back all the SXSW action to you -- from a local perspective.

Catch the buzz at weeklyvolcano.com.

SETTING OUR CLOCKS TO AUSTIN TIME >>>

It's nearly mid March, meaning the annual SXSW festival is quickly approaching. Every year thousands upon thousands of music industry types (hopeful bands, promoters, label folks, music journalists, sometimes Matt Driscoll) converge on Austin, Tex. for one of the largest and most hyped happenings of the year.

Once again this year the Weekly Volcano is proud and honored to be one of only 40-or-so alternative press papers around the country chosen as an official co-sponsor of the 2011 SXSW Music festival. Later this month the venerable Rev. Adam McKinney and Jason Baxter will both be travelling to Texas, no doubt to partake in too many Lone Star Beers, and also (hopefully) to report back all the SXSW action to you -- from a local perspective.

This week, Baxter caught up with Olympia band Christmas, who are also currently preparing for SXSW. Read that story here.

KICK ASS MUSIC COVERAGE IN PRINT AND ONLINE >>>

Our Best of Olympia is on the streets. Our heads hurt from last night's post production shindig. And now we are doing our hair and nails for tonight's big Best of Olympia bash at The Brotherhood Lounge. It's quite exciting around the Weekly Volcano World Headquarters. However, it's business as usual and there's a new Weekly Volcano music section for you to drool over.

Here's a peek at the sonic goodness in store in print and online. ...

Macklemore

Ladies, it's time to break out that sexy piece of clothing you've had sitting in your closet for a very special occasion, because Justin Bieber - I mean Macklemore - is coming to The Royal Lounge in Olympia Thursday, Feb. 24 - fulfilling every 16-year-old girl's dreams. If you've been in a coma for the past year or so you may not have noticed the damage Macklemore has been doing to the hip-hop world. This guy is blowing the fuck up! Not only have he and Ryan Lewis sold out the Showbox a record three times  - each time in under 48 hours - but they're currently selling out pretty much every show lined up for Macklemore's upcoming nationwide tour that begins next week. Read the full story here. - Nic Leonard

Arbouretum and Eternal Tapestry

Time to break your wizard bong out of storage: The Wednesday, Feb. 23 show at Northern promises to be intensely psychedelic. Arbouretum are set to perform with Oregonian jammers Eternal Tapestry, their comrades on a brief West Coast tour that's bringing both bands' gargantuan riffing and hypnotic arrangements to eager ears from SoCal to Seattle. Read the full story here. - Jason Baxter

Bacchus and Chief

One of Olympia's most beloved bartenders is celebrating 10 years of pouring stiffies at the Brotherhood Lounge. And he's celebrating old school style, with two epic Oly bands. (More on that in a minute.) The bartender in question is Buck Huber, and he's one of a kind. Equally witty, charming and predictable, Huber is always ready with a drink, a smile and a Mohawk in varying stages of growth. But perhaps, in this writer's opinion, what makes Huber such an amazing human being and bartender is his magical powers - specifically the power to bring together two quintessential Olympia bands for one night only - a rock star reunion extravaganza.  It's Chief! And Bacchus! Together! Read the full story here. - Nikki Talotta

LINK: Our critics' live music picks this week

LINK: Big concerts going on sale this week

LINK: Nightly live music in the South Sound

SXSW EXCLUSIVE: FRANCE'S DEAD SEXY INC. >>>

Bands come in all shapes and sizes - and they come from all over for the SXSW music festival.

For example, France's Dead Sexy Inc. - best described as a Euro-style mix of disco, electronic and Stooges style rock.

Never heard of Dead Sexy Inc.? Neither had I, until this week.

Described by their publicist as having a variance in styles similar to Love and Rockets, Dead Sexy Inc. arrived in Austin after doing five massive tour dates in Europe with Indochine - another band you may never have heard of - described as immensely popular and "like early Cure" by Dead Sexy Inc. frontman Stephane H. According to Dead Sexy Inc., Indochine has a major arena style following in France and a major area style stage show to match.

The smaller stages and anonymity of a French band in Austin had to be quite a shift for Stephane and Co. After finishing up three scheduled SXSW performances, the band is scheduled to head back to Europe for six more dates with Indochine.

"No one outside of France or French speaking countries has heard of them," says Dead Sexy Inc. drummer Alexis G.

"They're very big in France," says Stephane. "They have, like, 12 tour buses, and we follow behind in the Scooby Doo van."

Why does a band like Dead Sexy Inc. come to Austin for SXSW?

"It's the biggest," the band's Emmanuel H tells me, noting how difficult it is to play all 50 states. At SXSW, he says, you can reach all corners of America simply by playing Austin. "It's not just a couple stages. It's about meeting people and doing business."

Indeed, the draw of SXSW - especially for a band like Dead Sexy Inc., trying to make headway in the states - is as much about the connections as it is about finding new fans. You never know when you might run into someone that can help you book that next show, or produce that next record - and the massive influx of industry types during SXSW makes it all the more likely.

Still, at the end of the day, it's about playing live - a fact that seemed as relieving to the band as it did factual.

"It's the American Dream," says Stephane when asked why a successful French band such as Dead Sexy Inc. would harbor designs on U.S. success. "I think we're a good band, and I think people will like us."

Dead Sexy Inc. is currently in the preproduction stages of a new record - described as a rock and electronic effort with no in betweens - which they plan to push in the states as soon as it's released - all part of life in the music business.

It's that music business life that brings everyone to SXSW - French or not.

LINK: Matt Driscoll's SXSW Twitter log

Photography by Jennifer Driscoll

SXSW SATURDAY, MARCH 20 RECAP >>>

I think I need an IV. After three straight days of potent drinks in plastic cups, chain-smoked cigarettes and high-decibel rock ‘n' roll - this morning, the last official morning of SXSW 2010, it all came crashing down on me. Black saucers surround my eyes. Fits of hacking greet me at every staircase. Bright lights cause me to recoil. And, shit, I wasn't even here on Wednesday, the festival's official kickoff.

SXSW was great, but I'm ready to come home. A person can't live like this. Food from trucks, queso dip and margarita pitchers can only carry you so far.

And I'm not alone. Twitter space - which since Wednesday has been filled with up-to-the-minute reports from the eleventy-seventy shows happening simultaneously all over Austin - today is filled with stuff like, "Off to the airport," and "My liver hurts #SXSW."

People are spent. And Austin is ready to return to normalcy. The traffic once again filling Sixth Street - which is closed for the duration of SXSW - is a good sign.

Thankfully, we don't fly out until early tomorrow morning - giving the Weekly Volcano some much-needed time to recuperate and gather our thoughts. While the official SXSW closing barbecue and softball party happened this afternoon - one last chance for the "industry" types to pass out business card between at-bats, one last chance for those on the "inside" to share war stories and Lone Star beers before heading back to their respective regions of the world - my wife and I passed. We're not much for softball, plus we didn't pack our mitts. While something tells me Chevy and AT&T probably partnered to provide sponsored, logo filled gloves for all SXSW badge holders - that's not the point.

Instead, today has mainly been spent staring blankly at objects on the coffee table, and cursing the distance between us and coffee in the morning. It's nice to not be rushing off to another night of music industry excess.

Not that last night actually ended up turning into the SXSW I've previously described - Mother Nature wouldn't have it. After temperatures hovered in the 70s for the first three-fourths of the festival, a fierce wind and unexpected chill moved in to give SXSW a whole new, blanketed, bundled and icy feel Saturday. The streets were literally filled with underdressed scenesters, arms crossed - maybe a little snot in their beards - trying to fight of the chill and still look good in their skinny jeans. Every restaurant had an hour wait time, and people just kept jumping on the end of the list and crowding in waiting areas because it was better than being on the street.

We made it as long as we could. As the night crept toward 1 a.m., and the temperature stood at 37 degrees - we decided enough was enough, and headed back to the hotel. I don't think we fully shook the chill until morning - but the early retreat did give us a chance to see a wrapped up, and slightly miserable looking Kimya Dawson on the local news playing earlier on the SXSW day stage, a haggle of equally bundled, and equally miserable looking fans sticking it out with her.

Here's what we saw at SXSW on Saturday that wasn't on the local Austin news:

GUN OUTFIT

Olympia's Gun Outfit has been described as "intelligent, slacker rock" and "deliberately hi-tech lo-fi." While those are certainly fair assessments, there's also a hint of mystery to the band - accentuated live by the way they hunch over their instruments, and have a way of sounding present yet feeling - sometimes - a thousand miles away. Inside Barberella in Austin last night as darkness set in, to a crowd of 20 or so people, that's exactly the kind of vibe the band created.

Visually, in terms of stage performance, Gun Outfit leaves a lot to be desired - there's just no way to dance around it. While the music grabs you, the players on stage stand like beatnik pillars - and that's when they're being inviting. Most of the time they're curled around their guitars, hair covering their face - or simply standing with a back toward the crowd.

Gun Outfit is about the music - and that's OK. Luckily they have a sound to back it up. But amidst an orgy like SXSW - where the choices are almost endless - it's hard for such an understated spectacle to stand out.

Read more...

SXSW FRIDAY, MARCH 19 RECAP >>>

It would probably be redundant to kick off two blog recaps in a row with sage wisdom from our new favorite Austin cab driver, Frederick - the Jamaican American who took us from the airport to our hotel upon arrival at SXSW - but I'm going to do it anyway. After utilizing the bus on Thursday to make it back to the hotel, we called upon Frederick once again last night when it came time to finally give in to the tired realities of drinking, walking and listening to every type of music imaginable for 12 hours straight.

One of countless insanely nice Austin locals we've encountered during SXSW - the kind of pleasantness that puts a town like Portland to shame (Austin has been cool for a long time - perhaps they don't feel the need to act like it anymore?) - Frederick admitted what my wife and I had been speculating for two days.

"In two days we can start living again," he told us, his yellow minivan jammed up in a festival clogged intersection, his city completely succumbed to the grip of SXSW.

For 10 days, throughout the interactive, film and music portions of SXSW, Austin is a complete madhouse. Streets close. Buses detour. Cops dedicate exponentially increased man-hours hauling drunken punks out of drunken punk shows. And life as usual in Austin comes to a grinding, economically magnificent, halt.

It's a real nice spectacle to visit, but I'm not sure I'd want to live in it.

But SXSW is for everyone - and Austin locals do take advantage. Amidst the body-to-body swarm that is Sixth Street at night, you're just as likely to see a mom pushing a stroller as you are a Vampire Weekend inspired hipster or a swarmy mid-level promoter. The whole world is represented. Gutter punks, frat boys, chicks looking for the eyes of frat boys, guys with snakes around their necks, people in panda costumes, people offering free hugs, people offering free smokeless tobacco, ranting religious zealots and even Joseph Gordin-Levitt and Matthew McConaughey come out of the woodwork for SXSW.

What draws them all? Specifically, what's the real appeal of SXSW for bands (other than the obvious)? Those have been the guiding questions of my coverage so far, and I may be no closer to answering it then when I started. Everyone comes to Austin this week for something, that's for sure - be it free drinks or something bigger - but everyone comes for a different reason.

Here's a look at how last night shaped. Remember to follow @mattsdriscoll and @weeklyvolcano on Twitter to get up-to-the-minute details of tonight's SXSW action, from a Tacoma and Olympia perspective.

THURSTON MOORE

No good child of the alt-rock movement could pass at a chance to see Thurston Moore and a 12-string guitar inside a club the size of the BroHo or the old Hell's Kitchen, right? Well, that's what we figured anyway - and after waiting in an impressive line of SXSW badge-holders with the same idea, we were eventually rewarded. The man behind us in line seemed to grow increasingly irritated with the almost constant flow of people asking us what we were in line for, only to return blank stares when we said Thurston Moore.

Eventually, he just started saying Van Halen.

Read more...