I’m back in Seattle, slowly recovering from the wear and tear that is SXSW. I tried, pretty dismally, to post at least something every day, but I wanted, after having a few days to sort of digest, write more of a final piece about the whole ordeal. I feel as if I got most of my observations out in the daily posts, so for this I just want to highlight the music that I found awesome, amazing, crappy, and just plain confusing. Also, the good folk at Light In The Attic added a few of their own memories of the event and they are well worth checking out below.

As I’m wont to do, I’ll be eschewing form based writing for a series of short quippy reactions to self-proposed questions … or something.

Finally, we’d all love to hear about your favorite SXSW memories for the year. What made you smile, what made you puke, what made you want to shake-a-shake-a that ass. You get the point, just comment – we love comments.

On to the RECAP:

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Well, the party has ended. The streets of Austin are no longer filled with trash, wasted people and streams of unknown liquid. The night air is blissfully quiet.

Because SXSW is over.

I’m beat. Absolutely dead tired. I can’t think, can’t began to write, but I’ve got a few last things to say about Saturday’s festivities before I put up a nice big tie everything together sort of post. Excuse me for errors of an kind, I’m literally writing with one eye closed, so sleep will come only that much faster.

1. Dr. Dog was the best, and last show of the festival that I saw. Absolutely amazing. I’ve seen them once before and gone, to a-degree, was the melodic drawn out jams, replaced instead with short, hard rock and roll. It was as energetic and beautiful as anything I’ve seen here. Kudos to those guys, really drawing on those last few reserves to put on a show-stopper.

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Let me start by saying this: the whole daily blogging thing is far more difficult then anyone thinks.  I came in to this brief gig thinking live-blogging a festival would be a relaxing piece of cake.  Turns out that waking up every morning after drinking ten beers, standing on your feet for twenty-two hours, and seeing an uncountable number of oft-times shitty bands AND then writing a witty response is a real kick in the cajones.  Thus, bloggers of the world I applaud you, you are better men/women than I.

This cluster-fuck of a festival is starting to wrap up and even though my brain is mushy and my stomach is an unsettled mess, I’m going to keep up the good fight.

1.  No matter how tired you are, and no matter how much you want to keep your energy up so you can see Handsome Furs, avoid “diet pills” endorsed by Carmen Electra.  Sure, I did lose six pounds and grow a fine pair of bosoms, but I also spent three hours last evening on the verge of losing my lunch all over the back patio of Bourbon Rocks.  You’ve been warned.

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Day four has left me a little fuzzy.  I try to write these things in the morning after the festivities and today it’s difficult.  My throat is sort of painfully sore (possibly from almost losing my lunch after the end-fifth of a lukewarm Miller Highlife 40), my brain feels as if repeatedly punched and my stomach might never lose the sort of hang-over nausea it’s acquired on this trip.

Nonetheless, for you our loyal Light In The Attic fans, I will persevere.

1.  Each day just gets a little crazier here at old South By.  A few more thousand fans.   A few more lines that stretch on down the dusty streets.  Just a couple more big, big names.  And a fuck-ton more mindless drunks.  Seriously, everywhere.  Blitzed as anything, puking, fighting, fucking and generally making a bad name for the good folk who want to come, imbibe some beverage and watch some good shows.

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First off, I work for Light In The Attic, I love Light In The Attic, and I want to represent Light In The Attic as best I can, but with that said, nothing I write in this blog reflects the opinion of the good people who work for Light In The Attic.  I’m an offensive asshole sometimes and I don’t want anybody getting butt-hurt towards Light In The Attic because I’m unable to stop running my mouth.

With that said …

Photograph by John Laird of Sound One: Track One (excellent SXSW coverage if you’re interested).From what I can tell renaming SXSW (or South By as the in-the-know refer to it as) Cell Phone and Lines Festival would be apt. For every amazing band rocking there’s six hundred million Blackberry sporting D-Bags with botoxed faces and trophy wives. Nonetheless, after filtering out those fucks, this whole festival is an absolute mind-blast and I pity those who hath not the ability to be here.

A few thoughts on yesterday:

1. I saw a band at Emo’s last night that was so loud and so pretentious I literally felt more pain in my head than ever at a concert. They were dressed in all black, played silver guitars, and had a lover’s spat on stage. I don’t remember their name but it involved Auto and lux and afterwards I wanted to ram my head into to a pit of acid. Yes it was that painful.

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 I literally can barely keep my eyes open right now.  A series of unfortunate events lead to a very long, unplanned night involving English hardcore kids and the dirtiest floor I’ve ever sat upon.  To say the least, sleeping was not a priority and now I’m late, hurrying to put this blog together, find a cab and an ATM, and get down town so my recently arrived label friends don’t fucking kill me.

I think this will be a theme of the week – no sleep, and a constant rush.

Nonetheless, again day two broken down in to five easy bullet points:

1.  Thee Emergency, drove down from Seattle and on the recommendation of Seattle-blogger Abbey Simmons, I checked them out.  Well worth it.  Sick shredding, American flag bell-bottoms and a sultry sultry lead singer that I was so star-struck/flustered by I could barely murmur a “hello” when I saw her after the show.  If you’re here, check them out at some point.

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From the pounding headache, stale taste of alcohol, and spotted memory I can only surmise that I’m in Austin, TX one day before the annual SXSW Music/Film/Technology festival begins. I arrived yesterday, a day earlier than the rest of the Light In The Attic hooligans so I could have some time to explore the city, check out the college, and spend one extra evening dropkicking my liver.

From this day forward I guess I’ll be reporting to you from this crazy, bar-infested little town on all the happenings, well, happening. There will be drinking, there will be illicit drug use, there will be an absolute ass-ton of music – some good, some bad, some barely remembered. Nonetheless, I’ll be here trying to keep you, our loyal fans, in the know. Apologies in advance for my inability to take pictures, I have many gifts, but photography is not one.

Lets get this shit started.

Last evening, in bullet points:

- After drunkenly leaving Mohawk’s, to drunkenly prepare to drunkenly view Tokyo Police Club’s pre-SXSW performance, found that the line had grown to unimaginable proportions. Two fences, a German society, and a dodged bouncer later, I was in the VIP section happily slurping down nine dollar tequila shots.

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