SO LONG SOUTH-BY

The last day (sniffle) of South-by-Southwest coverage

by Cristina Black

The last day of South by Southwest was easily the best, at least weather wise, and the daytime parties were absolutely kicking. I mean — it’s hard to beat Chromeo, who played at Stubb’s in the afternoon. The duo absolutely rocked the party, which was attended by a very stylish crowd that cheered wildly at singer-guitarist Dave 1’s jokes. Ladies, it’s hard to resist this man’s Wayfarer-wearing charms, not to mention his sidekick P-Thugg’s beats. Oh, and he teaches French literature. Could he be any sexier?

Up at Waterloo Park, my current fave band Grand Ole Party raved it up for the zillionth time this week, and Pissed Jeans, who are pointedly unsexy, went absolutely nutso on their deranged protogrunge dirges. Eugene Mirman got folks laughing about his gas bill, and I sat in the grass pigging out on festival food (ice cream dots, corn on the cob, etc.)

Then, I got a call from a friend: Something about champagne and the Driskill Hotel (downtown Austin’s swankiest). I swaggered down there and swooped past the door guy for, like, the 80th time this week—I simply cannot risk rejection—and found myself in the middle of a Q Magazine party in the hotel’s gorgeous ballroom. There was — and, as my buddy promised, free champagne — but also a bunch of Guitar Hero stations. Hey it’s the music business. Kate Nash was also performing, she in her navy polka dotted dress and sweetly snarky songs about “dickhead” boyfriends and whatnot. Then, a British boy-rock band with the unfortunate name Pigeon Detectives came on and made me think about jumping off the hotel’s ornate balcony to escape. That’s the thing about SXSW: For every great set of music, there are several that absolutely suck. Ah well, there’s always next year…