You couldn't resist clicking on this link, could you? Even those of you who still have yet to digest the dozens if not hundreds of new acts you caught at SXSW 2010 this past week. Did you think we had some sort of hipster crystal ball or something?
Look - we know that in this increasingly rapid multimedia age, anything that happened four minutes ago might as well have happened last century.
I arrived at the Mohawk just a few beers before Fresno rhyme prodigy Fashawn gripped the mic. There was no way that I was getting up front; from the upper balcony the place looked like people soup, and heads were not surrendering their hard-fought spaces.
Good thing I brought Dubb Sicks; the Austin vagrant had just wrapped a set at the Creekside Lounge, and decided to come along.
I'm annually amazed by how quickly counter-culture hordes are to suck on Racael Rachael Ray's droopy teets every year at SXSW. No offense to any of the bands who bask in her limelight, but it's truly ridiculous how much attention she gets for slumming with us.
Starstruck dips who queue for this one will tell you how phenomenal the food was, and how cool it is that Ray was just-a-hanging around Austin.
I didn't go to after hours last night. Not because I was necessarily done partying - and not even because I was excited to get back to my hotel and break into the pool. I flipped my switch at 3am because, well, I'd had my fix for the evening and then some. Meet the group that tied me off and found the vein.
As Colombian hip-hop Gods Choc Quib Town blew down the stage at Momo's, I felt like Michael J.
It’s been quite some time since Audible Mainframe and Eclectic Collective used to regularly smash Harpers Ferry together. Those were the days; just ask the loose and juicy co-eds who used to come and throw their backs out.
But while much has changed, it’s all been in the name of progress. Over the past two years, Audible moved to Long Beach, and EC became Bad Rabbits.
There's a lot of free food in Austin during SXSW, and not just in the dumpsters out behind my hotel. A daytime walk down 6th Street offers an almost infinite amount of complimentary BBQ and other diarrhea fuel; if you dig junk food, there's even a party with free Taco Bell.
But there was only one event yesterday with free poutine, or, as you might better know it, french fries avec cheese curds and gravy (I think people in upstate New York call it "breakfast").
So I’m out back at Side Bar waiting for that dude Kosha Dillz to rock. It was a showcase for his distributor, so I figured I would show some hip-hop love among the indie rock snobs.
I went to order my second free Lone Star, and the bartender asked who I was there to see. I told her I came for the only rapper on the bill, and she told me that something happened or some shit.
This is a picture of the cab driver who just took me into downtown Austin. His shit was tricked out, but that’s not the point. The point is that I waited for 45 minutes for the shuttle that I paid $40 for. I want my money back you bitches. Your service sucks giant donkey dicks.
Dem Texas boys support their own. I’m pretty sure that every rapper from within 100 miles of this motherfucker was at La Zona Rosa for the Paul Wall and Chamillionaire reunion. I’m still semi-blinded from the light dancing off all the cheap bling.
But first a little back story. Four years ago I was down here with my homeys from UnderGroundHipHop.
You see these two pics? Well remember these faces – Homeboy Sandman (Queens) and Zeale (Austin); they’re two motherfuckers who you’ll be seeing quite a bit of.
Zeale beat the trash out of his early afternoon audience at Peckerheads. The Nah Right / Smoking Section party is about to really pop (Yelawolf is rocking at the moment), but these two knocked the bitch up.
That’s a picture of the random wall that I’m charging my phone at. Amazingly, it’s one of the few power outlets in the city of Austin. If anyone has tips on how to keep these smart phones kicking – coal, wind power, whatever – please drop a line (if you have enough juice).
No doubt it's obnoxious for me to remind you about today's Karmaloop bash at Beauty Bar. I mean - unless you're down with the king or started waiting at the venue first thing this morning - chances are you won't get into this one.
But if you wind up gaining entry this should be quite the inaugural blowout, with some serious Boston representation to boot.
Quilt embodies the antique charm of
its namesake and as such has me recalling all sorts of memories that may or may
not be real. The song “Commodity Spectre” from its March Appropriation release feels like a lucid stroll through a
dream led by faint apparitions from times past (again with the weird