SXSW: The Casio Way, Pt. 2: Who Loves the Sun?

Do Ya Think I'm Sexy? Har Mar Superstar in action

The past two days here in Austin have been a sloppy, sun-soaked whirlwind of booze, noise and the hot hot heat. The conditions out here are brutal, my friends. The sidewalks are unforgiving, the lines are long, and the heat is relentless. Much like an alcoholic parent, our benevolent sun may be the source of all life, but it also has a knack for making you wish you were dead. This brutal bastard has left his calling card directly on my face in the form of a bright-red burn that gets called to my attention by someone at least every five minutes. That cheesy novelty hit from the late '90s may be annoying and forgettable, but its lesson is no less valuable: Always wear sunscreen, folks.

My stamp-covered, hungover hands tremble and ache as I now attempt to recount my adventures from the past two days. Thursday morning started at the Mohawk with a little free Tex Mex, all the free Coors Light I could handle, and a live shows by experimental punk guitar/drum combo No Age.

I also saw Cut Copy, whose dancy Eurotrash goodness managed to turn a casual afternoon performance into a high energy dance party.

Afterwards, I wandered down the street and happened across Murfreesboro's We Were the States, loading up their gear after a performance. I joined them in Bull McCabe's pub for a pint of ale before catching Tapes 'n Tapes at Emo's.

From there it was on to the Nylon/Guess Jeans party at Jelly's NYC Texas Garage, which isn't actually a proper venue. Rather, it's the top floor of a parking garage converted into such a space. One floor up is the VIP lounge, for which I fortunately had the foresight to RSVP. There I ran into the members of De Novo Dahl, Caitlin Rose, Murfreesboro homeboy Laws Rushing, and our own photog/Photoshop wiz Johnny Kingsbury. The party was winding down, so this giant mob of Nashvillians collectively walked a good seven blocks back over to the action on Sixth Street. Decked out in their signature sequin Western wear, DND and Rushing proceeded to distribute cans of Keystone Light from a case Laws had just stolen from the Nylon Party, causing nothing short of a spectacle for the entire trek. Basically, the whole thing went something like this.

Friday's plans were a jumble of confusion, disappointment and more rotisserie-style abuse at the hands of the elements. I hauled ass from the couch I had slept on to Club DeVille, where I was under the impression Crystal Castles would be playing. Unfortunately, this information was anything but correct, as Crystal Castles definitely were not on the bill. When I walked over to Beerland to catch my Alabamian friends Thomas Function, I learned they would not be playing either. I did, however, catch Jay Reatard at Emo's just after. His vigorous assault on new wave-flavored punk was exactly what I needed to salvage my perspective on the day so far. I also scored some free BBQ and beer at Spiro's, so hell yeah to that too. Afterwards, a friend and I endured one grueling-ass quest to find the Next Big Nashville party at Tap Room Six. Three minutes after giving up, we stumbled across it accidentally on our way back to Jelly's. Inside, familiar faces were all around, and Pico vs Island Trees were laying down some catchy, contemporary pop rock. We spent a few minutes taking advantage of the drink tickets provided by NBN's Jason Moon Wilkins, and shooting the shit with We Were the States, Doug Clutter and John Bruton.

We kept our visit short and sweet, and made our way over to Jelly's, where I proceeded to binge on free Bacardi and Monster mixes, and caught the pseudo-sexy ironic R&B sounds of Har Mar Superstar (pictured at the top), who to my surprise featured Nashville's Nick Slack on drums. Other familiar attendees included Feable Weiner's Atom Anderson and my fellow correspondents Tracy Moore and Lee Stabert. Tracy, Lee and I consumed a great deal more free drinks poolside in the VIP lounge while participating in a very frank discussion on the complexities of the male libido.

I made it back downstairs in time to catch Flosstradamus, who was mashing up dance grooves and samples for an eager audience. With drinks flowing so freely and a wealth of talent lined up for the stage, I saw no reason not to return to Jelly's after catching a quick nap and a bite to eat. The lines were much longer, the house a hell of a lot more packed, and the line for the bar was too outrageous to mention. I did, however, dance a while to the throbbing beats of Simian Mobile Disco, and rocked out to the poppy synth-punk jams of Brooklyn's Matt & Kim.

I wish I could provide more details as to what else happened last night, but details are in short supply. That's all for now, folks. It's time to have a little hair of the dog that bit me and venture back out into the battlefield, where I hope to catch Jeffrey Lewis, Crystal Castles, NOFX, The Breeders and David Cross.

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