SXSW

Posted By Kate Mackley

Did someone take the Barley House and move it to Austin?

Saturday is the final day of SxSW. (The few straggling bands playing the Sunday shows are on the schedule as a consolation prize: "We kinda liked your band, but you can play when everyone is asleep/hung over/leaving.") Saturday is pretty much it. By then most attendees are a bit tired. You don't want it to end, but you are ready for a rest. Maybe next year the organizers can build in a break, you know, not start until everyone's feeling a bit more energetic? But I'm sure someone would throw a day party in there.

That's what Summer Break Records head Robert Jenkins did. He brought the Barley crowd down to the Shoal Creek Saloon; not only all the favorite bands that play there, but nearly all the people who just hang out there. It was a little surreal, especially when the owner of the Barley House came up to me said hi. Are we in Austin? Are you sure?

Check out this bill: Here in Arms, Shibboleth, Chris Holt, I Love Math, Pleasant Grove, Sorta, and The Cut*Off. Oh, and gratuitous Rhett Miller photo here. Since everyone was playing for their friends, and the table of Dallas music critics and a certain mayoral candidate up front, the sets were super relaxed. None of that normal SxSW frenzy of "we have to put on our best show EVER because we're gonna get discovered!" Save that energy for later in the day.

The party was fun, just like, um, coming home again. However, I was going to do that soon enough, so I scooted out to catch the last of SxSW, just getting going around 6th Street. It's amazing how off your internal clock gets at the festival. It was now 6pm, and since it was still light out, it felt like lunchtime, something I realized I skipped. That was OK, because there was probably free food at the Chugging Monkey, where Red Monroe was also playing a day party.

If you haven't heard Red Monroe, you should. Not just once, either, because I didn't appreciate their brilliance on the first listen. Their music is experimental, gorgeous, rich. It just keeps getting better. Catch them for a stripped down acoustic set at Liquid Lounge as soon as you can; or anything put on by Spune. He gets them, too.

After this, I hooked up with the Irishmen from Duke Special, out of Belfast. I had met them the day before (did I forget to blog that? yeah I did) as we went for a trek out to Ben's to get the drummer some real Texas BBQ. They had heard about Salim Nourallah and it was my extreme pleasure to take them to that show. Salim's set was upbeat and fun; I've been reduced to tears at a Nourallah show before, and I asked him why it was so fun tonight. He said the vibe at SxSW was so upbeat, it just seemed right to play a cheery set. Lots of "1978," not so much "Life in a Split Second."

I had a bit of time before my next scheduled band, so I checked what I could catch quickly before taking off. Wouldn't you know it? Rhett Miller was playing, just around the corner at Stubbs. This was now just funny. I hadn't meant to catch every show he played (anyone know, did I miss any?), but I did. We said hey after, and I saw his eyebrow raise. No, dude, not stalking you. Swear to God. Oh well, guess I'm officially a fan now, because I did have a great time at every show. He has more energy than anyone I've ever met. Each show was bigger, better, and more fun. I don't know anything about the new album, my two listens to the new songs at SxSW don't count, and I'll stick with Fight Songs. It's old, I know, but I still love it.

My next band was The Theater Fire at Latitude, in the middle of the strip. I hoofed it quickly; I didn't want to miss anything. I had seen them at the Art Conspiracy show, but only minutes before I needed to leave. I like Latitude, it's a good venue; small, but with a big stage, and plenty of room for the myriads of instruments everyone in The Theater Fire seems to play. Mariachi songs, folksy stuff, Appalachian storytelling; clever songs in a serious tone. They also did something that I think is incredibly clever at SxSW: they gave away their EPs. Brilliant! Bands, you want to get noticed here? Go the extra mile. This is not a bad strategy at all.

Deathray Davies were next. LOVE them. The best part of the night for me? I ran out of memory on my camera. That's a good thing? Absolutely, because I get to enjoy the show. No more worrying about camera angles, f-stops, timing; I can just listen. I strapped the thing on my back, freed up my hands to clap and danced! What a great show. DRD does have some rather rabid fans, though, especially the girl who stopped the show to ask John Dufilho if he knew where her cell phone was. Huh? Apparently, her partying had begun a bit earlier, and was about to end a bit earlier, than everyone else's. Dufilho took it in stride, with humor.

A friend took me to Josh Ritter after, and I was unimpressed. Maybe it was that Ritter was a bit overly PC (he has a song about a guy who's soldier girlfriend is fighting in Iraq - sheesh), maybe it was that Eternal was the hottest club on 6th by now, but I kinda tuned him out. I think it's just that he wasn't from Dallas, and I see enough earnest singer/songwriters here, thanks.

Finally, as the culmination to a great festival, it was time for Duke Special! It was great meeting them first as just regular people, then seeing them transform and play as a band. Peter Wilson and Chip Bailey are cool people, and fantastic live. Not that we get much chance to see them play here, but I'm hoping that they will make the trip back across the big pond in the not too distant future. It was 1AM when they hit the stage at the Dirty Dog (which lives up to its name, yech), and a bit of technical issues kept them at bay for a few minutes. They play with an assortment of "instruments"; Duke Special, who is Peter Wilson on stage, plays mainly on keyboard, but he also mans a wind-up gramophone. Chip Bailey, however, has not passed a kitchen drawer without inspiration. Using cheese-graters, eggbeaters, and a stick embellished with every percussion option known to man, he whips, knocks, and shakes in the beats. The music is carnival fun, campy, yet beautiful. When Duke Special gets serious, he's heartbreaking. Find Adventures in Gramophone and Your Vandal (the vinyl version- 45 on one side, 78 on the other. Isn't that just cool?).

Whew! Done with SxSW. Ring! Ring! It's my phone? What, an afterparty? At a warehouse? My name on the list? Yeah, of course! And off we went to the next amazing experience. This was the place all the really cool people were hanging. Ours was playing by the time I made it to the stage. I had no camera memory left, again, so you'll just need to imagine: beautiful swanky people milling about an empty produce docks with an open, free bar and Ours blasting into the warm night. It began to rain, just a bit, but no one minded. Excellent. This was a great year, and a year would be too long to wait for this to happen again. Cheers!

Posted by Kate Mackley

Never wait a week after the event to blog. Make that two weeks after. So much of my memory's detail has already been lost in the minutia of the daily grind. I won't bore you with the details of my personal life (downloading, uploading, no blogging) on Friday; instead, send you to the photos of two band shoots I did that morning. The light outside was perfect- luminescent gray clouds that didn't threaten rain. I set up my background for The Dirty Novels from Albuquerque and we had a great time.

The Dirty Novels

But then, since I had the background rolled out, why not have some fun?

Inferno Fantana

I'll let my insane friends speak for themselves. No, this is not a real band, but don't you wish it was? I'm thinking they should play '80s dance remixes sampled with Mexican hip-hop. They're missing the steel drum, but the drummer had to work.

And now, for some structure–

The Schedule

1a Foxymorons @ Spiro's

No, seriously? That's it? My whole Friday DFW SxSW schedule? Impossible. Well, for official shows, yes. That is the beauty of SxSW. You actually can go down to Austin without a badge, wristband, or any other sanctioned admission to the shows and have a fantastic time. There are bands playing on every flat surface throughout the city. You may need to do a little more research, and a whole lot of more legwork, but fun shows are everywhere. (In fairness, Centro-Matic did play on Friday, but I knew every other reporter from all other DFW music anything would be there, so I skipped out on Will Johnson's critically-acclaimed band. I'll see them at home some time.)

This was my real, mostly unofficial schedule:

7p Jayson Bales and the Revival @ Jovitas

(Radiant* also played at 7pm for the Texas Music Magazine, but I wasn't a subscriber, so didn't ask for the invite needed.)

JB & The Revival @ Jovita's

9p The Heavenly States @ Antone's (sorry, no photos of them)

10p Over the Rhine @ Antone's

Over the Rhine @ Antone's

I'm originally from Cincinnati and I've had the distinct pleasure of trading emails, trying to arrange an interview, with the elusive Detweilers. But I had never been able to see them play. They had been on hiatus at their farm last time I was home. This was my first opportunity and Antone's is a great place to see bands, with a wonderful, wide-open stage. The show was relaxed and fun, with both Karin and Linford feeding off the crowd's passion. They are absolutely adored. This was a highlight of SxSW, swaying to their dreamy, folksy, powerful songs. Plus, Linford looks a lot like an older John Dufilho.

11p Verve Forecast showcase with "Stewart Ransom" Miller & The Believers (the stealth show) This is, yes, you guessed it, Rhett Miller. It was also a Dallasite reunion. There's a horrible photo of everyone there on my Flickr site. This link isn't it.

Rhett Miller

After this, my friends and I were supposed to head over to the Arctic Monkeys, but I knew. It was a trek all the way down 6th Street, as far from one end to the other to La Zona Rosa, and I knew that I'd make it in vain. THE buzz band of SxSW 2006 would have a line so long that my measly wristband wasn't getting me in there, even if it was one of the coveted (or so someone mentioned) purple ones. There was another color? Anyway, my friends with badges optimistically hoofed it there, and as I heard later, didn't get in either. You had to be there by 11:30pm, and it was already midnight. So what to do at midnight during SxSW, on 6th Street? Well, eat sushi, of course! "Ewwww," you say, but no. I had some the best sushi ever at Sake on Sixth just around the corner from Stubb's. Of course, everything was fresh; as I'm sure they had a total turnover of inventory in the last two days, so no worries there. It was really great though; quality stuff. We could have gone to see Brian Jonestown Massacre (too crowded), or Headkrack (too far), or The Motels (are they still touring?!), or even attempted The Magic Numbers (not likely to get in), but rather, we stayed put as I had to see the ONE AND ONLY show actually on my schedule: Foxymorons at 1AM, just around the corner at Spiro's, within sake strolling range.

Foxymorons

Foxymorons is made up of members from Mesquite and members from Nashville and the odd session player. They look like a rather cool chess club. They don’t play that often in Dallas, which is a shame. My friends weren't that into their poppy, fun music, but I loved it. I definitely want to go back and see them again; maybe the next time they play The Cavern, when their set will be longer than Austin's allowed thirty minutes. However, at SxSW, by 1AM, filled with sake and dying to get out of the nice-looking (not so much nice-feeling) boots I had mistakenly put on at 6pm, their set seemed quite long enough. Time to call it a night. After all, there was still one more day to go, and Saturday's schedule was overflowing.

(Posted by Kate Mackley)

First rule of blogging: immediacy.

First rule of good writing: painstaking craftsmanship.

Breaking both rules without remorse: priceless.

Thursday March 16

The intended schedule was:

1pm The Lord Henry @ Trophy's dayparty

2pm the unofficial Stereogum showcase featuring Ted Leo and The Pharmacists but being opened by Austin band What Made Milwaukee Famous, which I knew, but apparently not well, since the guy I knew best in the band was no longer in it, and had neglected to mention that. Funny how you never hear when your musician friends leave bands–.

5pm the Midlake WOXY show. My fav internet radio station combined with my fav Denton band.

7pm The Zutons, Spoon,

8pm Echo and the Bunnymen

9pm Earlimart or Ian Moore

10pm The Drams

11pm Chatterton

12a Happy Bullets

What actually happened?

Noon: Wake up. Need water, room spinning, down entire Ozarka bottle, go back to bed.

12:30pm: Get up. Dig computer out of the tangle of four laptops and powercords on the living room floor. Must move someone’s underwear to do this. Try to transfer 4GB of photo memory cards on the world’s slowest computer. Find out the installed photo editing program won’t change the format of the photos so you can post them and download new photo editor. Find out The Lord Henry listed the start time of their party, not their show, which is now at 5pm and a serious conflict.

12:45pm: Take shower while computer chugs away.

1:30 pm: Start download again because Austin’s wi-fi network, while ubiquitous, isn’t necessarily reliable. Write yesterday’s blog, post. Text message to find out whose unofficial shows are tonight. Begin file transfer of memory cards.

2 pm Someone suggests lunch (breakfast?) at Whole Foods. LOVE Austin’s Whole Foods on Lamar. It’s like Mecca. Have the best Butternut Squash Ravioli ever, drowned in olive oil.

3 pm Get back, check file transfer. Still going.

4 pm Finish downloading photos, realize Stereogum show is nearly over, and the band didn’t call to give you a pass anyway. Search through 350 photos for 10 good ones, post.

5 pm hoof it to Trophy’s to see The Lord Henry. See posters and realize you missed the Tah-Dahs who were on an hour before. Decide to check the schedule again; see that the Tah-Dah’s show was listed at 1p, while you were showering. Make mental note to never trust SxSW show listings. See you also missed Spector 45. Make mental note to confirm bands the day before.

The Lord Henry.

6-9 pm Nothing. Finally out, with nothing to do after missing the entire morning of good shows. Frustrating. Drive up to 6th Street and actually get a spot in a meter two blocks off the strip. Sit in the car and have the requisite SxSW let-down, the-bands-don’t-need-me, little-fish-in-a-big-pond, what-the-f%$#-am-I-doing, moment. Last year I was sobbing, this year, just sniffling (it’s a day earlier and I’ve actually slept this year, so it’s not too devastating). Blow nose and check schedule again. “Miss Pamela des Barres” is listed at 7:30pm. Pamela des Barres was one of the original groupies and wrote an unabashed memoir of her life with Jimmy Page, Don Johnson, Frank Zappa, and everyone who knew them in Los Angeles during the ‘70’s. (A friend had given me her book, a bit as a serious gift, a bit as a joke, for my birthday. I absolutely MUST see her, but am convinced it’s just a band by that name.) Feed meter and wander into the dark Whisky Club. There’s no one there this early, so it’s a hard to inconspicuously search the room for Miss Pamela. It is actually her there, older and with deep red hair instead of the California peroxide blonde, but looking just as fetching and sweet as her jacket cover photo. It is a book reading, since her book is going on another printing. And who, of all people, is reading from her sexy tell-all? Rhett Miller. I home in on his conversations with Miss Pamela and new boyfriend Mike Stinson and other Hollywood luminaries. Rhett’s hitting the whisky pretty hard, which is exactly what I’d be doing knowing what he was about to read. Considering the book was written from a female, um, perspective, this was going to be interesting. The club has filled now, and how people heard about this, I’m not sure, but there are some wanna-be Miss Pamelas hanging on her every word. She reads from her virgin days as a Beatlephile. Mr. Miller handles the love scenes with Jimmy Page with aplomb and composure. Modern-day groupies in the front row swoon. Richard Enfield handles the sex with Waylon Jennings beautifully, reading in a gravelly cowboy growl. Miss Pamela thinks he has the part wrapped up for the movie. Movie? Oooo, excellent! Can’t wait. The reading over, I give Miss Pamela my business card and beg her to call. She hasn’t. Yet.

Rhett Miller

A little after 8pm: Head out and there are many more people milling around now. Had some awful Roppolo’s cardboard pizza out of their wagon and then wandered back to the car. Two hours to kill before The Dirty Novels’ (from Albuquerque) show on Lamar, which is a drive. Try to connect with friends at the Spoon and Echo & the Bunnymen show at Town Lake Shores, but decide against trying to meet/park there and illegally feed the meter my last quarters. Shoal Creek Saloon is hosting The Dirty Novels’ show and it’s just down from Waterloo Records, I hop over there from 5th Street. Some other photographer has staked this show as his territory and insists on being IN my shots, so I wave at my friends and leave in a huff.

The Dirty Novels

Karma Lounge is holding a showcase with two of the best in Dallas - Chatterton, straight up rock with its roots showing, and the Happy Bullets, my favorite band of the year with quirky, smart, indie-as-hell pop. I’m a little disgruntled about the day, irritated by the lack of cohesiveness of the scene here, still feeling quite the guppy of the tank. But I shook it off with a great parking spot just down the hill from the bar, the farthest venue to still be counted as official. It’s a dark, seedy, sensual little spot. The aluminum columns have a definite 80s dance-club feel, but the red velvet walls of the back lounge suggest more than disco moves could be made. Walking in, it felt good to be here. Sam and Noah of the Observer and Hunter of DMN Quick were in the house, plus Marcus of Pleasant Grove, friends of the bands, and a bunch of Norwegians playing later. Dallasites and indie men of the icy North Sea; interesting mix. Chatterton went on first. I had never seen them play, but knew about Kevin’s acoustic sets. I was ready for a good show, and I got better than that. Chatterton nailed the set, rocking it beautifully for the small but influential crowd. As with every SxSW experience, you hope that there are more movers and shakers in the audience than is apparent. Pedal steel and guitars, Chattertons’ sound is pure Texas rock. Not the Twangfest material expected, but rich, layered straight-up rock that’s rooted in Dallas’ blues heritage.

Chatterton

Happy Bullets is altogether something else. Smart, funny, lifted out of your English teacher’s wet dreams, this quirky quintet tells stories of the darkness in modern life with humor. Their knife-edge social commentary is cushioned with poppy melodies and silly antics. Catchy and fun, they combine Monty Python wit with Elvis Costello storytelling. SxSW energized them, and they ripped tightly through their set, knocking over xylophones in their enthusiasm and making my night absolutely perfect. It was impossible to feel out of sorts as Jason, Andrea, Tim, Rhett, and Josh taught SxSW101: Play your best set, make the audience yours, if it’s five people or five hundred, and sell it. Not only did they sell it, they added a lifetime guarantee: this was a band to glom onto. Next year, when they play at Emo’s, brag you saw them this year at Karma before anyone knew them. Happy Bullets, indeed.

Happy Bullets

1am: The Norwegians closed the show, but I was off by then, wandering around just being in love with SxSW and its possibilities.

I stumbled upon this blog Lullabyes and thought ya'll might like to check it out. This dude is recording some mighty tasty shows and the sound seems to be top-notch from what I've heard thus far.

(Posted by Blair Lovern)

Reading all the big fat lazy newspapers the past few days, I'm noticing they are either pretty much just discovering SXSW (which started in 19 damn 86, fat lazy reporters, in case you need a refresher between your “Man, how about that Shiner beer!” sentences), or writing the most generic, idiotic crap. How anyone can still think newspapers are the saving grace of daily American knowledge, I have no clue.

Examples of “Golly-gee, look at all these bands” stories:

San Francisco Chronicle

The Washington Post uncovering some sort of film festival. (Anyone who uses “ultra-happening confabs” to describe anything should be forced to snack on day-old, fast food fish sandwiches and a 44-ounce cup of warm buttermilk for at least 30 consecutive days, and I wouldn't mind lobbying for 60.)

Cleveland Plain Dealer

Los Angeles Times (registration required).

Think it's just clueless outsiders? Try the Austin American-Statesman on for size (sigh, registration required.) Or this town's giant elephant yanking off the AP's roughage with its 120-year-old trunk.

The DMN's Over The Top blog (which should be called Over The Horizon for commenting about everything that happens in the world unless it's here) has actually been doing a good job. I would have liked to have seen more from Unfair Park, but I'm entertained by those folks no matter what they heave on the wall.

I dare anyone to say they'll have more photos of SXSW on their site than Kate Mackley, who will be posting them for us here. (Last year she snapped about 2,000.)

The SXSW site has conference video if you're into conference video. But it still isn't Information HQ. I've even bet let down by these guys the past few days. Frankly, you have to visit all over the Internet to get an idea about what's happening down there. (What else is new?) Although these folks have been prolific and the site is clutterless.

For something so big and so presumably important, the coverage by alleged American big shots has been lackluster.

Everyone's running ragged at SXSW, here's a story via AP about music talent scouts.

I'm actually starting to worry about Cindy. Alex had trouble finding her in Austin. And now, I've learned that Flat Cindy may not be OUR Cindy's doppleganger, but a notorious international kidnapper.

See what I mean.

Will the real Cindy please stand up?

We've gotten our wires crossed over here-- We had said that all our SXSW coverage would be on this blog. That was before Cindy was kidnapped by her two-dimensional doppleganger, who didn't get the memo.

So, for our friends reading on feeds, Cindy and Flat Cindy are over here. Or you can always follow the latest posts on the homepage.

(Posted by Kate Mackley in Austin)

Thursday 3 p.m.

Wednesday is a thing of the past. Thursday hasn't even begun yet.

People packed 6th Street by noon on Wednesday. As I walked by bar after bar, just south of the downtown business section and the University on 6th Street, Deep Ellum paled in comparison. 6th Street isn't the other side of the tracks, it's part of the life of Austin. Banks and corporate offices weren't under a bridge, over the highway way, they are interspersed with the bars, clubs, and restaurants. Scary little bars were only a block or so away from Irish pubs, granite corporate buildings, and upscale shopping. 6th Street is for the most part clean, well lit, ungraffitied. This week it's full of every indie rocker, music power broker, and poser in Texas.

The rush of hearing "Soft Radio" by Airline floating out of the open windows of BD Riley's was incredible. I sang loudly as I crossed the street and got a few looks on the way to Airline, Sorta, and Johnny Lloyd Rollin's first unofficial show. As a friend said, "everywhere we go, we look for home," and that's exactly how I felt. It was a homecoming to be back with everyone from Dallas in the excitement of the start of SxSW. Airline rocked the set, with a crowd that looked to have a significant number of over-35 badge holders, always a good sign at the festival. I have my fingers crossed Someone heard them. Sorta followed, with their consistent set of the new songs. Cindy and I had to scoot out before Johnny though because we got the call from Midlake and I finally finally got the call from someone who knew someone who could actually tell me that if you go with a badge holder they can buy a wristband for you at registration. It's not hard, and I'm not sure why it was a top-secret deal, but that's the scoop. Find a badge holder, and they may buy ONE wristband for you (at a reasonable price) and the only catch is you have to be there when they buy it so it can be put on your wrist, and that wristbands aren't sold out. No problem. Thanks Cindy!! End of stress.

We hoofed it over to the Midlake interview and I watched Flaming Lips soundcheck after. Photos to follow, but technical difficulties are preventing uploading today. Check back tomorrow for those. As for the Lips, I give kudos to any drummer who can play a neon pink kit and rock the house. Wayne Coyen and crew ran into a snag when load in took a little longer and the sound left before they could play half a song. What was that guy, a union member? This was the Flaming Lips, asking quite nicely to be allowed to play half a song, and he left? Um, ok.

The rest of the night was running from one venue to another. First dinner over at the New Mexico tourism showcase. The Land of Enchantment brought in their own fruity wine in generic bottles and beer, and gave it away. Nice that. They also bought dinner. Las Manitas is a little Mexican place and to get to the stage – yes, they had an actual stage, as apparently does every little hole-in-the-wall downtown – you had to walk through the kitchen. As is normal during the festival, the band announced the start of their party, and not the time they played, so I was there two hours too soon to see them. I chatted and got chatted up, drank a pretty reasonable amount of the grape juice, and headed out to catch– The Zutons! Yes, it was a private party, and no, I wasn't invited, but that little press pass on my camera was more golden than a badge and I wasn't just admitted, I was escorted to the front of the stage. Ah, the perks of blogging for TexasGigs. This is the best most amazing part of the festival- getting to see not one great band, but four, or five in a night. True, you don't get much of them, but it's more like an aural expander than a total experience. I go home knowing a little about a lot more bands I had only ever heard rumors of. Garrison, you'd be proud of me. I caught Crushed Stars lazing through their jam set of atmospheric pop, then saw the end of the New Pornographers, and Belle & Sebastian at Stubbs after, both amazing. "Sonic candy" as roots rocker Jayson Bales tagged B&S. Sweet and light, B&S immediately quieted the crowd and couples all around swayed. They are a happy band, kind of a Happy Bullets without the Monty Python influence. No hard edges to Belle & Sebastian.

The best (and worst) of the night came with the Secret Machines. First, there was no line to get in, no one was there. Then the set began an hour late, a bit unlike the schedule the festival normally keeps, and then the band was in a pissed-off mood. Guitars had problems and the keyboard buzzed and popped and got kicked over in frustration at the end of the set (no one came out for an encore, hardly surprising) but the Secret Machines have "it." Whatever it is for a band to be more than a blip on the radar, more than DIYer's, less than rock stars, Secret Machines have it. Rabid fans crowded up to the barricade, knew every word and clambered over to pick up sticks afterwards. These three guys made La Zona Rosa rock like an arena. It was two, I had been going since 5AM, and I couldn't have cared less. I wanted to stay. I wanted to hear "Nowhere Again", I wanted to see Ben Curtis' agony as he sang it, I wanted to feel Josh Garza's drums rip through my chest as he pummeled his kit. He doesn't use sticks, he pounds using tree trunks with grips, which he breaks cleanly in half (and then throws at photographers). Despite their frustration at the bad beginning, the rough middle, and the angry end, Secret Machines gave a Performance. They have "it."

Today, I woke up and realized in my tired stupor of running around last night, I missed the Echo and the Bunnymen, Spoon, and Tapes and Tapes after party. Damn. Well, that's SxSW. You gotta sleep sometime

(Posted by Blair Lovern)

Sure, we all know SXSW is a big deal. But folks outside America lap it up, too. Check out some of the international flavor:

Canadians, eh? And here, eh?

Aussies love it.

Brits want to marry it.

Irish want to give it a big fat kiss.

Arkansas is interested, too. HAHAHAHA! I kid the Arkansans. One reason is because they pronounce it like "Kansas" one way and "saw" the other. Anyone from Kansas act that screwy? Hell no.