(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.