I remember my first South by Southwest experience pretty well, considering the whole kid in a candy store / free music, free booze thing that happens in Austin TX every March. But the one thing I remember most was how much my feet hurt after the second day, and how happy I was when I visited the Riot Act Media party and found out that they were giving away free shoes. Saucony Jazz sneakers. I had brought nice-looking, but ill-fitting kicks with me, and once slipping into a pair of comfy shoes I was good to go for the rest of the week. It was like walking on the wings of sponge-angels. I podcasted something to that effect on the Synthesis radio site. In fact, since 2006, I’ve bought nothing but Sauconies (How’s that for good marketing, yo? You’re welcome for the free plug, thanks for the free shoes). Having saved my feet in 2006, David Lewis will forever be a saint to me.

This year, however, I failed to make it to a party featuring free shoes, and right now my brown Saucony Jazz sneakers, going on 6 months old, are in flattened shambles. It’s true, as outlined in my astute friend’s blog, musicismyboyfriend, there’s pretty much nowhere to sit at SXSW for more than a minute. You’re on the go from venue to venue to venue the entire time because, honestly, there’s just too much to see and so little time to see it. Sure, there are rickshaws (known in these parts as pedicabs), and I did use one after Chiodos‘ set on Friday night since La Zona Rosa is kind of a long walk from the main drag on 6th street. Otherwise I was on foot, and as of Sunday I’ve been developing the gnarliest athletes’ foot you’ve ever seen. If it gets any more personality I may have to give it a name. Updates as they come. In the meantime, Check out Video Matt being a drunk ass on a rickshaw. Hilarity! Snoochy Boochies!

Famous

“Gee shucks, there sure is a lot of fam-ous people here in Austin for south by southwest!!!”

I know, I know, if you are reading this and you live in certain parts of the US (i.e. New York and Los Angeles) you’re probably thinking “yeah, yeah, yeah…” but when you live out in the cuts in a glorified truck stop / state school, you don’t often get to see in person the people you see on television, in movies or on album covers. For us yokels it’s usually kind of a thrill. A cheap thrill, but a thrill nonetheless.

But certainly there exists a healthy contingent of people who are decidedly not impressed, and seeing celebrities up and close is no big deal. I feel kinda caught in the middle. Most famous people, I’ve found, are very nice and appreciative of your attention (as long as you don’t push it and remain kinda mellow. No kissing Mike Patton on the hand or anything…), but there’s always the chance that someone you admire is in a bad mood and is being a total dick to you, Mr. Lou “jerkfacepoopyhead” Reed. And that can honestly ruin your love of their art a little.

But still, for the people who look down on the starstruck and make fun of gawkers, they can right fuck off. There is nothing wrong with showing gratitude to someone for them making art that you have enjoyed, or has influenced and inpired your life. That’s called respect. For some of them, that’s what keeps them going.

For me, I still get a little bit excited when I run into someone I know, famous or not. But honestly, it’s better running into someone you do know, especially when it’s unexpected. Like when I ran into Seattle’s Iceage Cobra on the street corner. On Friday, following my Joseph Arthur interview, I stopped for one second to get my bearings and remember where I was supposed to be going, and whamo! I run into two totally rad dudes, who lead me to another rad dude. I’d rather run into a bunch of excellent friends than Elijah Wood, Michael Stipe (who is apparently gay SURPRISE SURPRISE WOW I NEVER SAW THAT COMING…fucking christ, duh…) or Lou Reed any day of the week. Cheers! Oi! Oi!

The Cool Kids at the Red Bull Moontower:

Every year you have your SXSW moment - that one when you stumble on that thing you didn’t even know existed. Team Facelift at the Red Bull Moontower was that moment for me. I mean - the dude came out in a red onesie and goes by the name of “Fat Jew”. Plus according to their Myspace page they’re influenced by:

Our moms. Hasidic Jews. wizards. machine gun rap. getting drunk and alienating loved ones. shitting in bathtubs. trashing japanese motel rooms. cocaine buffets. box socials. wigs. fighting. watercolor still-lifes.

It’s like The Bloodhound Gang meets your mom.
Here’s the first of a few tracks I drunkenly recorded on SXSW 2008’s last night:

The woman at the airline counter furrowed her brows. “Let me see if we can do that.” Four canvas bags, stuffed to the brim with magazines, candy, guitar picks, buttons and CDs, and I was attempting to get it on our plane. She eventually accommodated my request, hoisting the swag bags into a plastic bag. I crossed my fingers that it would arrive safely. But on the other hand, it didn’t matter. All that shit was free (except the case of guitar strings I bought from GHS for a steal). Free, free, free. Not to play to stereotype, but my Judiasm really came in handy when considering that if I didn’t take it, and it wasn’t going to be properly utilized, it was just going to go to waste and they would have to throw it away….and that’s the REAL crime. (Wait, isn’t that the same reasoning behind how the state of Israel was founded? BAM!)

[Grandma is not going to like that last aside.]

You know, I’m still dead ass tired, so I will get into the environmental implications of creating so much needless garbage in the next day or so. In the meantime, let me nap, then wake up and roll around in my swag like a pig in its own filth.

This article seemed appropriate after being on the SXSW diet (booze, booze, and more booze)… and the Zynthesis wine post I just did.  I’ve made the decision to drink rather than eat many a times, but it’s usually because I’m broke and I’d rather spend the money on getting a buzz.

With pressure on young women to drink but also remain slim, many are now swapping dinner for a large glass or two of wine.