Every year South by Southwest is like a big Lone Star and pulled-pork trough filled with bands to discover and write about. But it’s also the place where those of us who don’t live on a coast can go to find out what the hipsters are wearing and what we should start looking for at our local Salvation Army. Last year it was the throwback moon boot. The year before brought the onslaught of the painted-on boy jeans.

This year’s must-have accessory, for boys and girls? The headband. Whether it’s bejeweled, a bright orange, gold braid or just plain old sweat, the headband is what all the cool kids are rocking this year.

Check back with the Newsroom blog throughout SXSW for more highlights, and be sure to visit our sister blog You R Here for concert reviews, photos and more.

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We’ve said it before, people, but it bears repeating. Along with your sound, the second most important thing any band has to do, maybe even more important than your sound in the beginning, is choose a name that’s either: a) instantly cool and/or intriguing (Nirvana, Radiohead) or so lame it’s back to being great again (Weezer, Panic at the Disco).

Clearly, many of the bands who played showcases Friday night at South by Southwest didn’t get this memo. Among them: Vancougar, Coconut Coolouts, the Show Is a Rainbow, Mittens on Strings, We Versus the Shark, Everlovely Lightningheart, Psychedelic Horses---, the Homosexuals, the Crash That Took Me, and Goat the Head.

Honorary mentions go to other bands playing the festival, including What Laura Says, Thinks and Feels, 43 Songs about 43 Presidencies, Songs for Moms, Til We’re Blue or Destroy, Ringo Deathstarr, Gorch Fock, Woodpigeon, Uh Huh Her, Death Sentence: Panda!, Collections of Colonies of Bees, I Was a Cub Scout, Does It Offend You, Yeah? and one of my favorites, DJ Pube$.

Then, there’s the names that guarantee that the band will probably never make it beyond SXSW, but we appreciate their creativity and we applaud their awesome, if scary, imaginations: A Thousand Knives of Fire, Dixie Witch, Tennessee Boltsmokers and Bible of the Devil.

Check back with the Newsroom blog throughout SXSW for more highlights, and be sure to visit our sister blog You R Here for concert reviews, photos and more.

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If you’ve ever read any of my reports from multi-day festivals, such as August’s Lollapalooza, you know I hate hot weather. Like, really, really hate.

Well, luckily for us down here in Austin at South by Southwest, Friday brought record high temperatures in the low to mid-90s to the city and, well, frankly the only smell worse than Sixth Street at midnight halfway through the festival (think stale beer, sweat, a bit of upchuck and unwashed hipsters) is the hellish stench of thousands of dudes in skinny jeans, embroidered thrift store cowboy shirts and matted hair crushed into a venue with no air conditioning at 3 p.m. You’ll want to plead for a slow death, preferably one in which your olfactory senses are somehow disconnected.

So, while trying to walk from one shady sliver to another, I took some photos for an essay I like to call Cool/ Not Cool. I tried to find people who were appropriately dressed for the heat (thanks, Perry Farrell, for setting a good example in your black mesh sleeveless T-shirt; you too, guy in the white pants and panama hat).

Perry Ferrell Guy in white pants and panama hat

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You’ll have to excuse the gentlemen in Seattle's Fleet Foxes for looking a bit confused when their Friday afternoon set at Emo’s was bum rushed by a pair of dudes from “Human Giant” wielding what looked like homemade T-shirt cannons. When Rob Huebel and Aziz Ansari rushed the stage before the set of pastoral freak folk from the recent Sub Pop signing (debut album due in June), they warned the crowd to watch out.

“We’re the T-shirt squad!” Huebel barked as he loaded his cannon.

“Cover her eyes … don’t sue us!” added Ansari as the members of the Foxes looked on with a mix of bemusement and perplexity.

Check back with the Newsroom blog throughout SXSW for more highlights, and be sure to visit our sister blog You R Here for concert reviews, photos and more.

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loureed.jpgReporting from backstage at the Levi's/Fader Fort:

It was one of those moments where you kind of feel like a jerk, but you can't help it. Lou Reed was hanging around offstage at a tribute show in his honor Thursday afternoon. He was padding around in old-school running shoes, chatting it up with Moby and taking pictures of the artists playing covers of his solo and Velvet Underground songs. Then he flipped down the lenses on those future-shock eyeglasses of his and aimed the camera at the horde of photographers who were standing around pretending they weren't snapping pictures of him. Reed approached the edge of the VIP section, just a few feet from the rockerazzi and without a word or even a look, leveled his camera at the dozen or so professional and amateur snappers and just started shooting away. That sly smile on his lips could only have meant "How you like that, you vultures!"

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