
Proximity to Fader Fort has drawn us in again. If only to see another Dam-Funk concert/mothership connection/autobahn street-funk carnival—all by one man. What followed seems to be following us around. Salem is the worst thing you’ll ever hope to see. Why do I get sucked into this? I managed to escape before things got medieval. Austin, at 40 degrees and under an ominous gray-blue canopy of cloud, in the post-apocalyptic landscape made after two weeks of tourists, is like walking around inside of a Troma movie. Backwoods Latin cannibal hipsters. But Bone Thugs at 9:00? At least my brothers Gwar were there.
SXSW Day Four: No Jacket Required
SXSW Winding Down, Tanlines Not
Fader Fort Will Suck Your Soul Dry
SXSW Day Three: Checking Off the Chillwave Checklist
And They Took a Seat at Thurston’s Feet
Fleetwood Mac Plus Sugarcubes Equals Twin Sister
SXSW Day Two: From French to Frauds
SXSW Day One: Toiling Amongst Un-Primitive Futures
No More the Moon Shines On Lorena