“Only two things come from Texas, son, and that’s steers and queers. And I don’t see no horns on you boy.”

Texas is a land of machismo. Oil wells. Cattle. Cacti peppering the dusty plains, where men chew gravel and spit out asphalt. Or maybe my mom just watched too much Dallas when I was a kid. I don’t know, but I certainly have an impression that it’s a manly state.

Still, the place is not without its more leftist lifestyles, including a healthy contingent of homosexuals. When I noticed the Gay Flag on a bar a block away from the hotel I thought, “well bless their hearts. The roughnecks haven’t driven the gays from the streets of Austin.” And yes I know Austin is the most liberal places in the state, but still.

The thing I noticed most about this gay bar was that it was full of regular old people watching rock ‘n’ roll bands. And that’s what Austin gay bars have in common with the countless UT frat bars that line the 6th street corridor: during SXSW their clientele is pretty much the same: industry people and hardcore music fans getting fucked up and watching hundreds of bands. Together. As One. Ommmmmmm…..
Rock Music: the great equalizer.

(UPDATE: I apologize for the brief all-caps diatribes about broken cameras and hating internets, which I have since deleted. I was drunk and shit was not uploading and Brit and Matt were telling me to hurry. It was an intense and frustrated moment. No offense intended.)

First off, if you’re unsure of what “The Wolf” is, perhaps a brief explanation is in order. “The Wolf” is a term used to describe the rash resulted from sweating between your thighs after walking around for an entire day in sweltering Texas heat (or anywhere else for that matter). I have experienced “The Wolf” more times than I’d like to, but almost always due to attending a music festival. Simply having an irritation is one thing; it’s not until “The Wolf” starts “Howling” that shit hits the fan and you had better figure out someplace to hole up (or find some sort of deodorant solid to soak up the beads of sweat dripping from your nether regions).

ANYWAY, my “Wolf” was “Howling” something fierce yesterday during my many treks in wrong directions for interviews that didn’t happen, searching for food, etc. I resolved at around 7 PM that no show I would actually want to go see was going to happen, as lines were simply too big to manage. So I decided to go to literally any bar/venue that would have me to check out any band who happened to be playing, SXSW sanctioned or not.

First up was Hank IV, whose name alone probably brought in a majority of their crowd (the band is of no relation to the legendary Williams clan). What followed was a sassy romp of late ’70s punk rock and surly country blues, capped by Bob McDonald’s insane stage presence. He looked like a 40-year-old accountant cuttin’ loose at the bar with his suit friends, sucking his finger and hobbling around with an entire leg cast for a seemingly unbroken or uninjured limb. RAD.

After that, it was off to Spill for the Texas Rock Fest, supposedly a nine-years running anti-SXSW showcase. The band Murder My Sweet played. They would have been AWESOME in 1991. Unfortunately for them, copying Layne Staley or any band from Seattle is a complete turn off. Super hot singer though.

Then off to the rooftop of Maggie Mays…

to watch this band (who literally no one knew the name of). Shame too, because they rocked AND rolled.

The rest of it is a bit blurry (roughly 8 double Jack and Cokes downed at this point), but stay tuned for the continuing adventures of Guy Who Can’t Get Into The Shows He Wants To See…

Unlike the rest of my SXSW traveling brethren, I’ve actually been eating sometimes. Usually while running from one place to the next. Austin’s on-the-go dinner options are pretty varied, but there’s a certain comfort in partaking in the familiar while staying in an unfamiliar place. Hot dogs and pizza are street side standbys in cities all over the country, and Austin is no exception, the most prominent stops on the 6th Street corridor being the Best Wurst and Roppolo’s Pizzeria

I don’t know if their boastful title is true or not, but the Best Wurst beats Roppolo’s Pizzeria hands down. Both are readily available and in easy stumbling distance from whatever bar you just fell out of. Roppolo’s is kind enough to stay open ’til 3 AM and serve you a gigantic, alcohol sopping slice of pizza, but sponging up all those free vodka drinks seems to be the only thing it’s good for. Well, that and it’s a cheap alternative for a high colonic.

The Best Wurst is pretty much the same deal. It’s good, hot and cheap, but, as far as I can tell, sans the intestinal distress. For now at least. Wish me luck.

Video footage purported to be of the UFO spotted over Stephenville, TX earlier this year has appeared online. As detailed by Earthfiles.com, there has been a continuous chain of sightings in the state of Texas of similar “sky graffiti” over the last two months. Is this the work of alien taggers, or kids with fancy lasers drinking Pabst 40s in the sagebrush staging an EPIC WIN?

In anticipation of next week’s SXSW media blitz, here’s a clip of our highlight from last year.

Actually, my highlight was the cathartic releasing of the bats underneath bat bridge, but hey, maybe i was just tired and feeling a bit emo.

Listen to Spencer’s interviews from SXSW 2007 at synthesisradio.net

Our hommie Allen Chen over at The Austinist just shot me an email to clue me in about the launch of the SXSWist microsite which will be stacked with all of your forthcoming SXSW needs and questions regarding your upcoming Austin experience. Austin - for the record - is our favorite city (next to Chico - which isn’t really a city I guess - more a pre-city) and we’re looking forward to consuming a massive amount of Lone Stars while stacking massive amounts of content for you to enjoy.

Let’s just hope Texas votes Obama next Tuesday.