Somewhere from SXSW

Yesterday was a long day’s journey into rock for the Wayward Son. I’m at South By Southwest this weekend in Austin. It’s my first time out here, and I hadn’t known what to expect. I thought it would be overcommercialized. After all, my music badge cost nearly $600, and somewhere this weekend there are trade shows, golf tournaments, softball games and rich people. But downtown, where every bar hosts live music all day long and the masses subsist solely on beer, margaritas and street-vendor food, it’s nothing more than a massive on-the-town experience.

I’d like to run down everything I did yesterday, from hearing Billy Bragg contend with traffic noise and a New Orleans brass band, to the Drive By Truckers comparing playing with acoustic guitars to having protected sex (and then fucking us all hardcore with an amazing set), to Morrissey ripping off his shirt and tossing it into the crowd. But I’ve got to be downtown in an hour to catch Be/Non kickoff the Anodyne Records showcase at the Parish.

Morrissey blows ’em away

I’m a little afraid to leave my hotel room this morning, though, because when my alarm went off, I was greeted with the voices of celebrating disc jockeys, already drunk, down at some Irish pub in the vicinity of 6th Street. Today will be nothing short of insane. I hear they’re sodomizing people who don’t wear green.

But I will survive, because there are plenty of people here from Kansas City whom I can use for human shields should the shit hit the fan, including KCUR’s Robert Moore; John Ferguson and John Bersuch from Bacon Shoe; our own clubs editor, Lorna Perry (who’s got a mean rock kick, I tell ya); Mac Lethal; and the Architects (who are Navy Seals when it comes to this sort of thing).

Kansas City’s Burly Q Girly Crew (www.myspace.com/burlyqgirlycrew) is also here, and with a new friend, no less. But more on that later.

The rock waits for no man.