Some live footage from Tilly and the Wall from SXSW 2008:

For the second year in a row, Playboy and C3 put on a late night party at SXSW, and for the second year in a row, I was lucky enough to attend.

While last year, the party was housed in a giant warehouse-type thing in the middle of nowhere, this year’s event was right downtown at a giant warehouse-type thing at the corner of 3rd and San Jacinto. The line circled the block and even the media entrance was swarmed by 11 PM.

Inside, there seemed to be a new adventure tucked into every corner: free barbecue; free drinks; a room full of Port-A-Potties that also housed a Rock Band hooked up to a television the the back of a car and a well lit area with a backdrop for crucial drunken photo seshes. The people were fascinating to watch:

• There was a surly red-headed bartender. She admonished people for taking too long to order their drinks; allowed her “regulars” to skip in head of the line; and when a particularly douche-y party goer knocked over her stack of plastic cups, she fixed him with a steely glare and lectured, “Really dude? Really?” Yeah, dude. Really? One day I’m going to marry that girl.
• There was a couple–or just two like souls who found each other in an instance of pure serendipity–who boogied toward the back entrance. He was dressed in a low-cut, V-neck, red velour with white racing stripes. His humongous, curly hair was accented by a white headband, and his face wore one of the sweeter ironic moustaches I’ve seen during the trip. She was wearing skin-tight striped hot pants that could barely contain her luscious booty. Their choreography consisted of moves that my have been stolen from the Torrance Community Dance Group, and they were pretty darn fabulous.
• And I think I saw Elijah Wood.

There were bands, too. The Heavy played some songs, and they were kind of whatever. MGMT gave me a headache, but not in an awesome High on Fire sort of way. Justice started off at a throbbing cacophony and just started cranking shit louder and louder until brains started frying. That’s when shit really started going off. Moby played a DJ set, but I missed it (I’m kind of bummed about it now since we’re totally bros now), and by the time I got back (around 3:45 AM), the venue (slowly clearing out) was pumped so thick full of smoke (and I was so pumped thick full of whiskey) that my eyes started tearing. Cutting through the haze was difficult, but there were a ton of people on stage, how many, and who was actually DJing, I couldn’t tell. It looked like a lot, and they were back lit, which made it kind of creepy.

Luckily, they were still serving whiskey, and back by the photo sesh area, a woman with sweet guns (in addition to other things) interviewed Spencer. Swag included: a wristband, guitar pick, free magazine and a couple other things I’m not allowed to mention because they may be incriminating. Good time had? Oh yeah.

It was a vicious decision to be sure. On one hand, you have yourself the downtown buzz glaring at you, bands everywhere, interesting people, all cruising around darting their eyes and swaying their skinny hips. And in this downtown area last night were some amazing shows.

On the other hand, you had the goddamn Playboy Rock the Rabbit Party. Ummmmmm.

Having almost always been a man who covets the rock over the flesh, I endeavored to resist the pull of silicon and glitter (although I’m pretty sure I wasn’t on the list anyway, but that’s neither here nor there…), so I hoofed it down the thoroughfares, saw Matt Pinfield’s shiny dome broadcasting for DirectTV on an elevated hydraulic crane stage and checked out the Weakerthans at the Cedar Street Courthouse. Seriously, this was the best decision I’ve ever made about anything. The place was sweaty and packed (Austin’s morning breezes and chilliness had long since been replaced by punishing humidity) but seeing John K. Samson’s expert songcraft, along with the rest of the band’s superb set was great.

This was all after catching DJ Tommy Sunshine at the Alternative Press party on top of some building…

and before I capped my evening off with fucking HIGH ON FIRE.

Dude, if you’re not here right now, I don’t like you.

If you’re in a band, and it’s not High on Fire, you might want to give it up. After taking the Metal to Europe with Pelican, High on Fire is going to come back to the States and hit the road again this winter with Archons, Intronaut and Rwake. Dates (US and European) after the jump. (more…)

Tomorrow Oakland, CA, metal heroes High on Fire will release their new album Death is This Communion (produced by Jack Endino), and to celebrate, they’ve got a few things going on that don’t involve drinking the Blood of Virgins.

First, you should go to their MySpace page to hear “Rumors of War,” a track off the new album. Add it to your profile to prove to the world just how metal you are. Then you might want to check out the Newbury Comics Web site where you can pre-order the album and receive an autographed CD booklet with your purchase. FYE.com is also offering a giveaway to promote the album. You can enter this sweepstakes for a chance to win a guitar autographed by High on Fire, on which you can practice sludgy riffs until your weed runs out.

Above all, you should rejoice, because a new album means a new tour. Bay Area hessians should head over to Ameoba Records in San Francisco tomorrow, Sept. 18th, to check out a free all-ages show at 7 PM. From there, the group embarks on a month-long nationwide tour, beginning at the Casbah in San Diego on Sept. 20th. If you haven’t seen the group live, the experience is something akin to standing in the middle of a stampede of brontosaurs. Full tour schedule after the jump. (more…)

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