Not even gonna babble ragtime over this one, we'll just let HR and the BAD BRAINScrew do the talking. Sickest show I've seen yet here at SXSW. Day 1 recap here.
It’s early this morning, and I’m standing outside the congested Pure Volume VIP entrance when two things catch my fading attention. The text messages from Elizabeth Harper of CLASS ACTRESS, which promises she'll get me into the room of free booze and synthetic fog, and a young, hopefully-at-least-college-aged student named Brooke who has stuff painted on her face and is cute enough for me not to mind her requests for a cigarette (I don’t smoke tobacco).