Our Saturday recap is up and bursting with raves about Jim James, Robyn and Kate Nash, but you can also check out more detailed accounts at the You R Here blog. What happened yesterday? Well...
· Comeback-making pop singer
Robyn wowed Perez Hilton's party with glitchy electro-beats and profane lyrics
· Young British songstress Kate Nash overcame marble floors and obnoxious concertgoers
· Jim James and M. Ward got reverent at an intimate concert held in a church
· The Night Marchers rocked in the daylight at Waterloo Park
· Grand Ole Party drummed up some new fans at the Mess With Texas fest
· Black Tide rolled into Red Seven with waves of hair and metal riffs
· Foxy Shazam bled onstage at Emo's and delivered a fabulously unsexy pole dance

We've been subjecting a variety of artists to our 5X5 @ SWSX interrogation down here in Austin this week, and one of the most interesting answers so far comes from Pharrell Williams. Not only did he say he thought he heard some accordion in Vampire Weekend's music, but he came up with his own label for the style that the band itself calls "Upper West Side Soweto." Take a look.
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. 

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).
There is a long-running joke in the industry about so-called "hip-hop time," which basically means that if you have an interview scheduled with a rapper, it will never, ever start on time.
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So it's Friday night in Austin, you're three days into a total indulgence of bands, booze and music. You've seen Yeasayer or some other hipster band four times already, you've memorized Santogold's set, you've had too much beer at the Blender magazine building, and some weird guy is trying to coax you to his friend's band's 2 a.m. performance with free burgers. It's the end of the night and you're just looking for something ... different.
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.

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.
So after three days of trekking back and forth across Austin, I finally had a blow-out. My prized loafers — a clutch $10 find at a thrift store — decided they'd had too much and, as you can see, the right one has decided to give up the ghost (or, more specifically, the sole).