So I was told that the official motto for 2009 is, "There's always room for one more." The Next Best Records resolution for the year is, "Put out at least one record." One would be more than 2008, right?
Hope 2009 is treats you fine.
(And if you're looking for 2008-year-end stuff from me, check my page on Agit Reader.)
I know, I know, this site's in a state of perpetual lag in terms of my posting frequency. At least I haven't been totally off the boat. An interview I did with Thomas Function just went up on Agit Reader. Check it out.
And if you haven't been checking Agit Reader frequently, seriously get over there. A lot of good stuff on there. The Robert Griffin interview I mentioned on here before is in the archives, as is a bunch of other cool stuff.
So the Revelers posted a MySpace bulletin yesterday afternoon (which I just saw) saying that BILL FOX is playing a show tonight in Cleveland. It's supposed to be at the Backstage Bar on 17007 Lorain Avenue at 10 PM.
Obviously, this is short notice, but if anyone reads this and went, give us a report (comment/e-mail), please!
Prisonshake's Dirty Moons saw its official release a few weeks ago, and I've gotten the chance to give the record a good six to eight listens so far. Obvious first impression: this sucker's long (close to 80 minutes), not to mention dense.
Usually when it takes forever for a band to get a record together, it's a sign that it's going to get dragged down to mediocrity by virtue of its intended grandiosity. Thankfully, Robert Griffin, Doug Enkler & Co. know better. When I say this is a dense record, I mean that there's a lot going on here, and it's going to take a lot of listens to get a handle on everything. That's the mark of a good record, but it's also the mark of a challenging record, so don't expect this one to totally kick you on your ass the first listen or two.
Stylistically, Dirty Moons goes all over the place, but it gets there the right way. Take side one for example (it's one of the best sides of a double-LP in recent memory). Prisonshake lets you know you're listening to Prisonshake with "Fake Your Own Death," which is a sorta slow, scheming rocker that takes off a little over half way through, throwing guitar solos, abrupt sonic shifts, and wholly unexpected snippets in the mixer. Just like Ma used to make, if Ma made I'm Really Fucked Now. "I Will Comment," an instant classic 'Shake anthem (maybe think a slow, mature "Fall Right Down"?), follows and leads into the kick-ass "The Cut-Out Bin." Next comes a stellar reworking of "Dream Along," which some of you will recognize from its former incarnations about 10 years ago as "Dream King" on the Anyway Records songwriter CD compilation and "Dream Along With Me" from the "Fuck Your Self Esteem" 7" and which might represent the most legitimate example of Tender Rock, what with its plaintive piano outro and all. Side One rounds out with "You're Obviously The One," maybe Prisonshake's first foray into powerpop, replete with a hearty serving of "ba ba ba ba"'s. And that's it -- five songs, all a little different, yet somehow a cohesive whole that works.
Sides two and three are where the "density" really comes into play, especially with side two's extended Scissors Suite and the side three "Year of the Donk"/"Leftover Monkey" medley. I'm guessing, though, that as time goes on it will be these two middle sides that might be the most continually rewarding, with their essentially symphonic movements. The band reaches some nice heights on the instrumental interludes here. We get a good share of trademark Griffin guitar dirty fireworks, but now the rest of the band gets to join in for a sort of more fully realized envisioning of what they were maybe trying to do with the extended "Sweat Like Candy."
Before first listening, I was curious to hear what the band was going to do with some of the "old" songs that had made appearances in various forms during the mid/late 90's. Pretty much unanimously, though, all the new versions are improvements over the originals. "Dream Along" benefits from solid harmony vocals, "Crush Me" sounds a little more fully realized in a Roaring Third way, and "Fuck Your Self Esteem" comes off even more kickass than before. "Leftover Monkey" sounds slower and more sinister and works as the meat in the "Year of the Donk" sandwich.
Prisonshake's still got their sense of humor, too. No farts that I've heard yet, but Marty makes a reappearance on the intro to "The Cut-Out Bin." And side two starts off with "Your Sad Friend." Young and old alike have to marvel at Enkler crooning, "Well, bring your sad friend, if you must / maybe she'll dance / let's hope she don't get too drunk" lounge style with piano accompaniment. In true old-school Cle fashion, there's also the sound of shit getting busted before "It Was A Very Good Year."
Other quick thoughts: "Memo From Chambers" totally rocks. I like the instrumentals (e.g. "Nowhere Near (Slight Return)" and "Janus"). This is a great sounding record -- all analog, never overproduced, and thoughtful in the sense that each song tends to have its own sound. And did I mention this new Prisonshake powerpop rules? "In Disguise" (this one's got handclaps) goes nicely with "You're Obviously The One."
Anyway, I'll stop rambling. Quick summary: you'll get a lot of mileage out of this record. Prisonshake still does whatever the hell it wants to really well. And I know I keep making my fanboy references here, but this isn't an album that requires familiarity with the rest of the band's discography. If you haven't gotten hip to Prisonshake yet, this is as good a place as any to start. Buy the friggin thing from your local record store or order it from Scat.
I wasn't going to miss the Silver Jews show last Thursday, which also doubled as the official debut of the Milo Arts gym as a proper music venue here in town. There were a few assorted snafus -- late start time (after an early start time was announced), power outages, etc., but it wasn't anything that can't be sorted out soon. The Joos set itself lived up to expectations. While this time around might have lacked some of the "first ever tour" freshness of the Little Bros. set a few years ago, the band made up for it with a newfound general sense of comfort with being on stage, particularly on Berman's part.
Obligatory bad photo of D.C. Berman & Co. (Bigger pic here)
No guitar or music stand with the lyrics this time around for Berman. Instead, he went with the sort of "Southern English professor meets Elvis" stage persona. The set was loaded with classics: "How to Rent a Room," "Random Rules," "Trains Across the Sea" are three particular faves of mine that made the cut. More recent songs that stood out included "Punks in the Beerlight," "K-Hole," and "Horseleg Swastikas." Too many to list, really (full-ish setlist here).
All in all, I really dug getting to see the band again, and hopefully they swing back here again soon. Berman seems like a fan of Columbus -- he's got Central Ohio roots and he gave the city some praise in between good-natured swipes at Eddie George (probably rooted in #27's late-career ineffectiveness for Berman's hometown Titans).
After the show I went up to Berman to shake his hand and told him that I've dug his music since I was a wee lad in high school and he graciously said, "Thanks for sticking with us." It's been my pleasure.
Weedeater can really groove. Dig that bass sound.
Untied we stand.
Long live dirt weed.
Mankind is unkind, man.
God luck and good speed.
Solid one-two punch Monday and Tuesday nights here in Central Oh. Monday I went to Bourbon St. for the really big rock show.
Last time I saw Psychedelic Horseshit was after Comfest I think, when I really wasn't in my right mind, so it was good to see the new new lineup again. Seemed like they played a lot of new stuff, which I fully support. More melodic, more ambitious (???), more bang fer yer buck. Play the new stuff. It sounds better than the old stuff, and the old stuff still rules.
Hadn't heard either Crystal Stilts or Vivian Girls (both apparently from New York). I dug both sets. Stilts had a sorta Velvets-poprock type sound (at least from behind the stage), but I may be getting the Velvets comparison mostly by reflex from their kick-ass playing-while-standing drummer who tastefully laid off the cymbals. Vivian Girls were more straight-up frantic pop rock. Overall highlight of the night (and it was an A+ night) had to be their killer cover of the Beach Boys' "Girl Don't Tell Me." I know, I'm partial to Beach Boys covers, but this was seriously good and had me yelling "Carl Wilson" after it was over. I told their bassist they need to record and release a version of it . . . hopefully they do.
Monday night's obligatory bad photo: Crystal Stilts
Times New Viking capped things off as you knew they would. New songs (off the upcoming EP, maybe?) kicked it. The super-packed Bourbon St. crowd went wild -- the kids getting a bit rowdy, and even though they came a little close to toppling the PA a couple of times, it was good to see the place that crowded for these bands. Was that a six-minute version of "Love Your Daughters"? Could've gone to eight. Perfect night all around, really.
Tuesday night I made my way to Carabar. Howlies' YouTube video for "Aluminum Baseball Bat" had me geared up for some new-oldies crooning, but alas, they're pretty much your standard, slightly-above average, upbeat guitar rock. Not that there's anything wrong with that -- everybody else seemed really into it -- but it wasn't quite my thing. They did play "Baseball Bat," though, and that was something even I could get fully behind.
Mr. Rubberburner, on the other hand, was a little older and a little dirtier -- something I can get behind. A Columbus supergroup of sorts, they belted out the raw guitar rock and ended the night with a riff-laden cover of "My Perogative." Good work, fellas.
Tuesday night's obligatory bad photo: Mr. Rubberburner
I sorta have a rule that any time I see a dude in a sequined black jumpsuit don a helmet with a phone attached to it and play some wicked country blues licks while singing and kicking a drum and cymbal, I have to tell the world about it.
Bob Log III sizzled last night at Bourbon Street. Scott Biram threw a couple of strong punches, too. And Grafton rules. Over and out.
What can I say about the triumphant Mirrors set at the Beachland this past Saturday? Driving through downtown Cleveland on my way up, I felt that usual sense of anticipation that I've always gotten whenever that skyline comes into view, but I honestly didn't know what to expect. Sure, I've listened to Mirrors way back when I was a young man in high school (you believe I didn't want to play football for the coach?). But as far as I know, Mirrors hadn't played anywhere since those days 13 or so years ago, and the only hints I'd gotten as to how their set might sound were off old live tracks from the Another Nail in the Coffin reissue. Those live tracks (from the mid-80's Mirrors reunion, I presume) are solid -- amped up, raw, (3 piece?) garage takes on Mirrors classics, old and (then) new -- but I guess I was wondering whether the reunited band, some 30+ years after its original incarnation, would go for that kind of breakneck pace for an entire set.
I suppose deep down I was hoping for a live version of that brilliantly-weird, old-school-lo-fi, Velvets-in-Cleveland mid-70's Mirrors sound documented so well on the Those Were Different Times and Hands in My Pockets discs. I've seen enough underwhelming reunion shows, though, so I guess I suppressed that hope. After all, suppressing hope is the Cleveland way.
I shouldn't have worried, 'cause I ended up getting my wish. From the moment the band took stage and "warmed up" with a brief "Interstellar Overdrive" leading into a dead-on performance of "She Smiled Wild," Mirrors showed that, amazingly, they haven't lost a step. Jim Crook's guitar was smoking. The vocals of Jamie Klimek, Paul Marotta, and Craig Bell were strong throughout. And Paul Laurence's drumming kept everything together (except perhaps for the cowbell that threatened to blow it all apart). There was the occasional rough patch, which was understandable for a band playing a one-off show. Those brief moments aside, the evening was electric: passages of beautiful noise; driving, Moe Tucker drums (minimal cymbal!); cosmic archetypal guitar; and classic, intelligent but coolly playful songs, truly Cleveland.
Often when you see a band for the first time after having listened to their records forever, the band might not live up to the sort of mystical conception you've developed from those records. I think it's a sign of a great band when the live performance is able to surpass this internal, mystical conception ("classic"-era Guided by Voices or current Times New Viking jump out in my mind). Maybe it's a sign of an all-time great band when, after they haven't performed as a unit for forever, the live show is able to surpass a decades-old mystical conception. Mirrors did just that, and I think a decent part of the audience, filled with Cle rock all-stars (you could count on Steve-O being there, but Bernie from Bernie & the Invisibles?!?!), would agree with me.
Highlights included "We'll See," a dynamic "Sweet Refrain," "How Could I" (a personal favorite), and the rollicking "Penthouse Legend." Bell shined in taking the lead vocal during "Annie," which topped the list of songs I wanted to hear. And Marotta ruled on what might be the true Cle rock anthem, "Jaguar Ride."
I'll stop babbling, but really, this was one of the best shows I've seen in a while. After years of never thinking I'd get to see Mirrors play, I count myself lucky that I was able to witness it. Down here in Columbus, it maybe is a bit disappointing that the Electric Eels get all the attention while bands like Mirrors and the Styrenes go a bit ignored. Sure, the Eels stuff relates more directly to (and informs a good deal of) the great stuff happening here in Columbus, and they're rightly hailed. Maybe Mirrors are a bit too Cleveland for Columbus, but that's not gonna stop me from chatting 'em up around here.
So yeah, Mirrors definitely delivered Saturday night. How 'bout making this an annual thing, fellas?
. . . the Nirvana baby is 17.
These days, [Spencer] Elden says, his peers concentrate on "playing Rock Band on Xbox, like, that's not a real band! That's the difference between the '90s and kids nowadays; kids in the '90s would actually go out and make a [real] band!"
I feel bad for the kid who hasn't gotten the chance to lay down and listen to Nevermind on the headphones. Anyway, here's hoping that in 17 years, Spencer's "big bag of [teenage] angst" has paid off well.
Thoroughly exhausted after the Comfest weekend, but it was overall a good time. Thoughts:
Obligatory bad photos (with a few ok ones thrown in for variety's sake):
Cheater Slicks (bigger photo)
Guinea Worms with the Columbus Hardcoretet (bigger photo)
Thomas Jefferson Slave Apartments (bigger photo)
Comfest All-Stars Series #1: Ron House with your lame narrator
Comfest All-Stars Series #2: Jeff Fernengel & Me (I figured after Ron House & Fern, the All-Stars Series was ripe for early retirement)
Fern & Friends (bigger photo)
Brainbow (bigger photo)
More Brainbow (bigger photo)
Blueprint & Co. (bigger photo)
So yesterday was the official release date for the new Robert Pollard record, ominously titled Robert Pollard Is Off To Business. A title like that begs for comment, so I'll avoid that trap in favor of some gratuitous self-reflection. It was three months ago that I swore off "non-major" Pollard releases, and, perhaps sadly, Off To Business hasn't been doing anything to make me change my mind.
Over the past few weeks, I've given this record a good number of listens, as I am wont to do with Pollard releases. Hell, I remember my first impression of Not In My Airforce was that it was clearly outclassed by Tobin Sprout's Carnival Boy (each was released by Matador on the same day shortly after the demise of the "original" or "classic" GBV lineup). After a week or two, though, I was able to recognize Not In My Airforce as a stone classic, and I even got into those last six songs.
Unlike NIMA, "Off To Business" hasn't taken off at all after repeated listens. "The Original Heart" and "Gratification to Concrete" are alright . . . sorta groovy riff-rockers with decent hooks. "The Blondes" is ok for a slow, almost reluctantly half-hearted stab at an anthem. "1 Years Old" is the kinda one-minute-something Pollard rocker that would work between two top-notch songs, but it just seems lamer stuck early in the record sandwiched by "ok" and "alright" tunes. "No One But I" completely drags in points, but has some so-so moments.
And that's all of side one. Yup, five songs -- 10 songs on the record -- which everyone will recognize as a low number for a Pollard record. I guess I thought, "If there's only 10 songs on the record, they've got to be pretty well-crafted and . . . um . . . good." But I guess I was wrong.
Anyway, side two starts off with the best song on the record, "Weatherman and Skin Goddess," which is actually a really good song, a solid pop-rock tune that rolls and gains some nice momentum. "To the Path!" rocks after a draggy beginning and is probably the second best one here. The other three songs on side two, though, range from forgettable ("Confessions of a Teenage Jerk-Off") to ok ("Western Centipede").
So there you have it. A Robert Pollard record with only one inspiring song ("Weatherman"), and a bunch of songs that range from alright to forgettable.
It sorta makes me wonder why I keep buying these records, and why I keep getting suprised that they're not living up to my (tempered) expectations. For what it's worth, I point to two factors for the marked drop-off in Pollard records:
I'll stop babbling. Off to Business is for die-hards only. Everyone else should download "Weatherman and Skin Goddess" from their preferred online music retailer and save their $10 for one of the batch of new records out there that, even if they aren't classics, will continue to reward repeated listens (May I suggest, the new Eat Skull? I've listened to that one as much as the Pollard record, and while I still don't know about most of side one, boy is that side two good). As for me, I'm sure I'll keep buying the "major" Pollard solo records and ranting about them here.
While I did, in fact, enjoy my time at the Pitchfork fest last year (can't beat Sonic Youth performing the whole of Daydream Nation -- I don't care what you say), and while the prospect of seeing Public Enemy do It Takes A Nation of Millions and Mission of Burma doing Vs. -- not to mention the chance to see TNV on the really big stage (hopefully Pitchfork has the foresight to put 'em on the really big stage), I've got better plans for that weekend.
That's right, I just got word that there's a Mirrors reunion July 19 at the Beachland in Clevo. There's basically no excuse to miss this one, as it's not every day you get a chance to see one of the original Cle Big Three (Electric Eels & Rocket from the Tombs being the other two) back together. Hell, you're never gonna see the Eels reform and RFTT already did their reunion thing (which ruled) a few years back, so yer a damned fool if you miss out on this one.
If you're not familiar with 'em, Mirrors were probably the best "straightforward" underground Cle rock band of their time (I say "straightforward" in the sense that they weren't as nihilistically epic-minded as the Rockets or as abrasively violent as the Eels), and if their only sin was that some of their early stuff might have sounded too much like the Velvets, they're forgiven because they pretty much literally learned their craft while sitting at the feet of Lou and Sterl during the days when Cleveland was a favored stop for the V.U.
Fans of Ohio rock who don't have Mirrors' Hands in My Pockets should track down a copy now, as it includes most of the group's essential material from the 70's. Another Nail in the (Remodeled) Coffin is good as well, but I'd say start out with the early stuff.
See ya in Cleveland, gang.
So it figures that just as I'm in the middle of a ridiculous record buying binge, a ton of good shows hit Columbus. Needless to say, the records aren't going anywhere ("Vinyl won't disappear," to quote this year's anthem), so I've been spending a lot of time out destroying my eardrums. Highlights from the past 10-12 days:
I'm leaving a lotta stuff out (usual great sets by TNV, El Jesus, Pink Reason, Terrible Twos), but the Tribe's actually scoring runs tonight -- nothing like Gil Meche for a slumping offense -- so I'm gonna watch that for now.
I only just recently caught word of this one, and I'm glad I did. Obviously, the Pagans rule, and when a new Pagans record comes out (today was the official release date), I'm there.
Recorded in 1988 in Madison, during what's billed as the final tour of the legendary Cle band's final incarnation, The Blue Album delivers nine previously unreleased and vital tracks clocking in at just over 18 minutes. Not quite a complete live document -- there's some editing between songs (though we do get plenty of banter from Mike Hudson & Co.) -- the record's nevertheless an ass kicker. For those of us who were too young to have seen a Pagans show back in the day (or were living in a cave during their handful of reunion shows a few years ago), The Blue Album is pretty much required listening.
Practically speaking, this isn't a "good" recording -- basically your standard, distorted live tape that drops up and down here and there -- but this is the way it should be. In fact, this is one of those rare records that sounds progressively better the shittier your stereo is. I listened first on my hi-fi, and it was rad. So-so car stereo? Even better. The pinnacle, though, was with the volume maxed out on the barely-hanging-together computer speakers that I hook up to my laptop -- I swear, the band was leaping out of those 4" speakers.
Anyway, there's a lot in these 18 minutes. Classics: "Cry 815" (a personal fave) and "Real World." Covers: A blistering run through Pagans live standard "Heart of Stone" and a 65-second "Can't Explain" (!). "Her Name Was Jane" serves as the highlight of the bunch -- you might remember it from its incarnation on the Cleveland Confidential LP. And while most of the record zooms by at the proverbial breakneck speed, it ends fittingly with the touching punk ballad (seriously), "Us and All Our Friends are So Messed Up."
My only complaint is that there's no vinyl release, but it's really no matter. Even in CD format, this record's like that shot sitting in the bottle on the other side of the bar: order it up, knock it back, and next thing you know you're picking yourself up off the floor. This one's part of my permanent rotation from here on out.
The Blue Album's available directly from Smog Veil, whose mail-order branch comes highly recommended both for its speedy service and deep catalog. Smog Veil's also offering The Blue Album bundled with Hudson's new memoir, Diary of a Punk, which I'll probably be gushing about soon enough, so you might as well shell out for that, too.
Not sure how many of yins check the Scat Records website for updates on a regular basis, and I don't think most of the hip media outlets have gotten wind of this yet, so I figured I'd point you in the direction of some good news from the label.
As of this week, Bill Fox, perhaps the best songwriter in Cle rock history, has agreed to let Scat reissue his two solo albums from the 90's. According to R.G.:
I spoke with Bill Fox yesterday, and we have agreed to reissue his two mid-90s solo albums, Shelter from the Smoke & Transit Byzantium. If you've been trying to get copies of either of these I know you wallet just sighed with relief. Even better, we'll be issuing both on vinyl (a first) as well as cd. I hope to have at least one of them out by the end of the year.
While this sounds like a straight reissue, with no extra material, it's still awesome news (especially the part about the vinyl). Will this pave the way for the issue of some of those legendary lost Fox recordings? Probably not, but we'll take what we can get I guess.
Also, it looks like Prisonshake's new record, Dirty Moons, is set for a July 29 release date. Scat has the one sheet and track list up now. You know I'm totally psyched for this one, and judging off the songs I've heard, it's gonna live up to expectations.
Part III of the SXSW 2008 Diary. Part I is available here. Part II is available here.
Saturday, March 15
TNV rocks Waterloo Records as Ringo, Patron Saint of Kickin' It, approvingly looks on. (Bigger pic)
Me: "I want more water in my beer, it means less of a hangover tomorrow." Miller Lite girl: "Whatever. Have fun with your watered down beer, and Longhorns rule!"
Sunday, March 16
Epilogue
Yeah, the ride back sucked (left at 9:45 Sunday, got home at 5:45 a.m. Monday . . . yeah, work was fun Monday) -- it was pretty boring, actually, save for a stop at a Sonic in Arkansas where they wouldn't let us use the bathroom. I still think driving's the way to go, if only from an adventure standpoint -- as long as gas prices don't get much higher.
All in all, though, it was a good trip. Maybe next year I'd like to stay in a hotel a little closer to the action so I don't have to worry about driving to downtown and back. I also missed a ton of bands that I had wanted to see. Maybe I could've maximized time better (obviously the Saturday Odyssey killed a lot of prime Saturday free party action), but I still did get to see a shitload of bands. While I didn't make the best use of the evenings, I think I still definitely proved wristbands aren't necessary if you don't mind sticking to one or two showcases a night. I think I ended up spending around $350 total (includes gas, food, probably too much beer, door charges, and one t-shirt), which I think is reasonable for a five-day trip (even if pretty much two days were spent driving).
Anyway, for those of you who've never been and want to try it on the cheap, I say go for it. It can work -- I'm living proof. Seriously, though, I'm there next year.
Meant to finish off the SXSW diary tonight, but I got sidetracked, so a quick mention of the Stephen Malkmus & the Jicks show Sunday night at the Southgate House in "all grown up" Newport, Kentucky. I've already professed my love for Malk's latest, Real Emotional Trash. Sunday night, Malkmus and the Jicks took a number of tunes off that already excellent record and really tricked 'em out. Malkmus was on fire during "Dragon Fly Pie," "Real Emotional Trash," and "Hopscotch Willie," and I doubt his guitar playing has ever been better. Not only did Janet Weiss really hold things together from behind the drum kit, but she also threw in a good helping of nice backup vocals to match -- this was the first time I've seen her as a member of the Jicks, and I was impressed.
Other highlights? Probably Malk's guitar work on "Baby Come On" and a nice "Church On White" as the first song of the encore. While we didn't get anything like the fantastically haphazard piano and interpretive hand-dance heavy "Jenny & The Ess-Dog" that they played when I saw them at the Beachland in Cle around five years ago, Malkmus seemed to be in good spirits and was pretty engaging.
As with Malkmus's brief solo set at the Pitchfork fest last summer, I don't think I was alone in thinking Sunday night's 70-minute show was too short, but maybe that's the mark of a good performer: leave them wanting more. Maybe Columbus will have an appropriate venue for the band the next time the Jicks swing by Ohio, but if not, I'm making the trip to the border again.
Part II of the SXSW 2008 Diary. Part I is available here.
Friday, March 14
El Jesus de Magico at Trailer Space. (Bigger pic)
Monotonix takes over the Vice Party. (Bigger pic)
Saturday, March 15
Thurston Moore kicking it at the Mohawk. (Bigger pic)
A few weeks ago, my buddy Tok casually mentioned that he had no idea what I was doing with my life because it had been so long since I'd done a running diary. Ask and ye shall receive. It has been about a year, and I figured South By Southwest 2008 would be a good enough excuse to dust off this super-self indulgent feature of the NBR Blog.
If anything, maybe this will serve as a helpful, if long-winded resource for those who, like me, decide to jump head-first into SXSW without dropping too much cash. I may have done it as cheaply as possible -- drive down, crash with friends who live in Austin, no wristband/badge, etc. So yeah, maybe somebody will get something worthwhile out of this.
Without further ado, here it is -- half Bill Simmons/half Mike Watt, the SXSW 2008 Diary:
Wednesday, March 12
