Truesday: Everyone Loves the Rub 'Round Here

The United Kingdom........118
Los Angeles.....................76
Canada.............................75
Australia...........................24
Japan................................19
France..............................12
Norway............................12
New Zealand....................11
Sweden............................10
Ireland.................................9
Denmark.............................6
The Netherlands.................5
Iceland................................5
Finland................................4
Germany.............................3
Belgium...............................3
Italy.....................................2
Uzbekistan..........................1
Yugoslavia..........................1
Turkey.................................1
Mexico................................1
Luxemburg..........................1
Czech Republic...................1
Brazil...................................1
Russia.................................1
Latvia (for seriously? Fuck YEAH! )...............................1
Iran (nukula-what? That’s what I thought)......................1
Congo (the plane flight must be MISERABLE to here)......1
Pluto (may the good lord bless the assholes out there)...1

They’ll come from everywhere, just for their shot at… excessive drinking? I really don’t see the draw. I mean, that’s 329 bands (about 25% of total bands showing up) from relatively normal foreign places, and then 406 (approx. 33%) if you include Los Angeles and Pluto. Hundreds of plane tickets. Thousands of miles. Tens-of-thousands of dreams. The numbers that I could attach to these travelers would probably be staggering.

But staggering research isn’t my intent, and good thing too, because it isn’t my forte either. I just enjoy asking questions. Lots of annoying, pointless questions, shamelessly aimed at propping up a one-legged ego, long-battered and eventually fully-jaded to the idea of risking so much for such an empirically improbable goal...

Wait a minute. That sounds so… Man, check that mood for a second.

…

Hm. Yes, I see. Okay then.

…

Fuck, that sounded like the rusty, whining death rattle of a broken man’s dreams! As if the sun were setting on his banished pasture, and his bright days of rockstar opportunity were pathetically drifting into perpetual night! OH, THE HUMANITY!

But, whatever. I’ll still dish out questions like Casino El Camino plates burgers (steady grudging, with one sharply raised eyebrow). But my meals are decidedly more bitter.

What exactly is it that these bands are willing to travel so far to achieve? Are there REALLY that many deals that get signed over the course of the festival? Does anyone even have a fucking pen with which to put to a contract? And even if they did, would either party be sober enough for it to be binding?

I mean, fuck. Everyone in the “music biz” I’ve ever met at SxSW was only here for some combination of the following (keep in mind, I’m not judging, I’m just sayin’):

1 Random sex with anything “happening”, “HOTTT”, or “warm”.
2 Getting too drunk to sleep in own hotel room.
3 Getting too high to sleep in any hotel room. For a week.
4 Eat an elephant colon’s worth of chips n’ queso and/or breakfast tacos (in yo’ FACE Odam!).
5 To see some obscure band from Saskatchewan play a thirty minute noonish-set (always too hung over to actually make it though).
6 Bask in the glorious laid-back granola playground of booze-hounds and pretty faces that is: Austin.

That’s it. I’ve never met a single record exec who even hinted that they were here to find and sign the next Los Lonely Godawfuls (those San Angelo boys are fucking funny though, ever heard them in an interview? Good times!).

So that leads me back to my initial, rudely posited query: what the hell could possibly posses bands from places like Iran, Brazil, Latvia, and Uzbekistan (let alone Pluto) to make such long journeys to our little town, for such a loosely cemented event that guarantees nothing but faith-crippling lines, addiction-slapping smoking bans, and faith-hobbling singing-career disappointment? What could possibly be the draw if the probability of getting a record deal at SxSW is approximately the same as (if not less than) it is in the women’s restroom of any LES bar in Manhattan?

I have some ideas on that, which I will list immediately, but I honestly want to know what everyone else thinks. Call me curious.

1 Random sex with anything “happening”, “HOTTT”, or “warm”. Includes “self”.
2 Getting too drunk to sleep in own hotel room. Especially if they have no hotel room.
3 Getting too high to sleep in any hotel room. For a week. Or through their twenties.
4 Eat an elephant colon’s worth of chips n’ queso and/or breakfast tacos (in yo’ ASS Odam! Heelllooooo!).
5 To see some obscure band from Saskatchewan play a thirty minute noonish-set (always too hung over to actually make it though) with the intention of trying to put together a Postal Service-type collaboration with their lead singer.
6 Bask in the glorious laid-back granola playground of booze-hounds and pretty faces that is: Austin. Because it’s just too damn expensive to move here permanently.

Double the urgency if you’re from Latvia. Much love to the former Soviet Bloc states that are making their way here. You'll love Barton Springs this time of year.