"Southby" = SXSW = South By Southwest = Good God.

We made it into downtown Austin a little after 4:00, and the roads were blocked off a couple blocks from the Soho lounge, where we were to play the Authentic Records (our record label) Party. The Texas contingent of John's family was there to meet us. They're good people. After some haggling, we convinced a cop to let us in long enough to unload our equipment, and with the help of John's cousins, it was done in about ten minutes. I bumped more than a few people with my bass as I dragged it down the sidewalk, and one of them was J. Mascis.

By 5:30 we were on stage: the last band of the day before the club went into night mode. There was a quick soundcheck, and we played our set. It felt just like any other show. One of the Millers of Cleveland was there: Maggie Miller, the dancer. She was radiant. I also saw Matt Wiengartner, who we met when he was playing drums for Kelly Pardekooper and radomly saw in Alabama last summer.

All through the show, there was a photographer snapping pictures of us. I have no idea why he was photographing us (I never got to talk to him), but part of me hopes he's scouting for new fashions and that next year button-down, collared shirts and blue jeans will be in style. I hate buying clothes.

Ten minutes after finishing our set, Jason, Diana, and I were whisked away to the Authentic Records cocktail party for some shmoozing and, in my case, whiskey. I had six shots of Iowa's own Templeton Rye within half an hour on almost no sleep and having eaten only a few baby carrots within the previous few hours. I talked to everybody in the room, and then went to smoke a cigarette with the hiphoppers of Mad Decent Productions. Then I swiped a bottle of Templeton, and we made our way to our hotel. The label set us up at the Double Tree, and since our labelmate Bonne Finken decided to head back to Iowa that night, we had two rooms, each with two huge beds, a roomy bathroom, a kitchen, two flat screen TVs, and balconies: definitely the swankiest accomodations we've ever had on tour.

We were hungry, and walked downtown to find pizza. The streets were crammed with people. Girls in sundresses and boots. Guys in tight pants and waxed moustaches. Buses, van, and backbeats were everywhere. We walked by a free show by a band featuring the guitar player from Blue October and his stupid haircut. The whole band was facing away from the audience (and towards the sidewalk where we were standing) with their grand and pretentious entrance music playing, and I heckled them, yelling "Nice hair! I love your big earrings!" The guitar player heard me, and we busted up laughing. We went back to the hotel exhausted, and we were out before our shins hit the bedskirts.

We'll have to spend more time in Austin next year and get some of those fantastic wrist bands that will get us into the good shows.