The summertime blues have hit Geezerville hard this year. That means heavy doses of Muddy, Lightnin,’ and Mississippi Fred McDowell with the occasional Allman Brothers thrown in to get the blood pumping. Central Texas has been represented with an almost forgotten gem from 1991: It’s About Time by T.D. Bell & Erbie Bowser. It was on the sound system between bands at the Continental Club one night recently, which caused me to pull it off the shelf and revel in its exquisite fusion of jumping-at-the-roadhouse and darker-than-night. Bell and Bowser both passed away in the mid-to-late 1990s, but their legacy remains through the band they formed twenty years ago, the Blues Specialists, which, in altered form, continue to hold down the Friday happy hour slot at the Continental. Electric guitarist Bell earned the nickname “Little T-Bone” for his style reminiscent of T-Bone Walker, while Bowser’s boogie-woogie piano was equally influential.

Dana Thompson has big plans. This is obvious when I step inside his Northeast Austin apartment, where he's quietly studying for his teacher certification course. He wants to work in special education programs. His walls are decked with posters from local shows, most of them put on through MelodicScience, the label he started seven years ago. But right now Thompson's focused on Thursday night, the second date of the Summer in the City series. See, when the sun goes down Thompson jumps into the phone booth and emerges as Mirage, a rapper out to redefine the way the city sees its hip-hop. To him, it all starts with an event like Summer in the City. "We need a presence Downtown," he admits, "and this is something that [Downtown] needs." It's a chance for the Red River district to gain a new audience, and through Summer in the City, Mirage is bringing hip-hop to an area that doesn't usually get that kind of talent.

Here’s a confession: A promo copy Don Cavalli’s Cryland (Everloving) has been sitting on my desk since February. I’ve heaped praise upon it to friends, spun it dozens of times in its entirety, and spent more time than I’d like to admit grinning like an idiot as its hypnotic grooves massaged my brain’s happy hormones. I stopped short of writing about it in part because I was sure my words would fail to convey its curious charm, and that the Web would soon overflow with glowing reviews of Cryland, leaving the heavy lifting to some other sucker while I kicked back and let the wah-wah wizardry wash over me with slothful glee. Alas, it's four months later and precious few are trumpeting the joy of Don Cavalli. A white French rockabilly guitarist with a funny accent and no discretion when it comes to effects pedals takes his best shot at the Delta blues. Not exactly an infallible recipe but one that works with infectious results on Cryland. The first half bursts with Cavalli’s funkdified electro-blues interpretations, mushed vocals humming in a low growl. Then things get bizarre: “Wandering Wanderer” sedates with the melodies of 1970s Jamaican harmony trios, “New Hollywood Babylon” freaks out with a stoned, off-kilter pseudo-rap, and “Wonder Chairman” is fueled almost entirely by a chorus of snorts and grunts. As feared, no string of letters will translate this album’s bizarre delight. Take my word, you’ll be happier after a trip to Cryland.

It’s summer and the music camps are open. All around the city, kids are hauling their guitars, drumsticks, keyboards and microphones to places like Natural Ear, the Austin School of Music, Girls Rock Camp Austin, Paul Green’s School of Rock, and about a half-dozen other places where the under-18 set plugs in. Forget about the turf wars and claims of who got there first. (School of Rock claims to be the first in 1998 but Natural Ear didn’t need a Jack Black movie when they started here in 1991.) The proliferation of these camps is providing Austin with a new generation of musicians who are smart and well-prepared. This isn’t just guitar lessons or perfecting that “Stairway to Heaven” lick – these kids are coming out the camps understanding the dynamic of playing in groups, and maybe desiring to play solo. Though each of the camps has a different philosophy, they all present rock & roll as a blank slate for teens and pre-teens to color in their own style. The aren’t-they-adorable aspect drops off quickly when a band like the Loose Cannons blasts through “You’re Gonna Miss Me." Loose Cannons has kept the same core players (Daniel Klasson and Sammy Ivester) since forming at Natural Ear while adding new players (Ace Furman, Jake Mente, Ross Blake). Their new self-titled EP gathers favorites from the 1950s ("Johnny B. Goode") and 1960s ("Treat Her Right," "We're an American Band"), and delivers the songs with power and panache.

Just south of midnight, Scott and I staggered down Broad Street. Well, not staggered – lurched, tripped, stumbled. Three sizzled days accompanying 3am nights of “Philadelphia Freedom” in conjunction with last week’s 31st Annual Association of Alternative Newsweeklies Convention had reduced us to fondue. “Do you know where we are?” whimpered Sancho Panza. “Of course not!” spittled Quixote. “I think we need to take a taxi back to the hotel,” muttered the first, turning on his burro and peering into the steamy mist of a mammoth glass and girder opera house. Broad way glowed yellow brick road. “Two more blocks,” begged Harold. “There it is!” exclaimed Kumar pointing not 10 yards ahead. I spun around as if shot, neon catching me in its arms, an oasis in a stenciled shop front. Closed, of course, and no Sunday hours before my flight home. One particular CD rested against the windowsill of Antone’s Records' East coast cousin, a smaller, more tourist-minded “souvenir shop.” “Look, here’s the office,” nodded Scott. I leapt into the dark alcove, fumbling with my camera. Proof, I needed irrefutable evidence. For myself. The disc’s one thing, Sony Legacy shelf-fodder for Barnes & Noble washing up amid a sea of South by Southwest 2008: The Sound of Philadelphia: Gamble & Huff’s Greatest Hits. The O’Jays’ opening shut-down, “Love Train” then “Back Stabbers.” Harold Melvin & the Blue Notes countering with “If You Don’t Know Me by Now” and “The Love I Lost.” Stone soul witching-hour 1970s staples. “Me and Mrs. Jones,” Three Degrees of amniotic “When Will I See You Again” and their MFSB boop-oop-a-dooper, “T.S.O.P. (The Sound of Philadelphia).” Lou Rawls’ black velvet pledge “You’ll Never Find Another Love Like Mine,” McFadden & Whithead promising there “Ain’t No Stopping Us Now.” Teddy Pendergrass announcing Ms. Patti LaBelle. Turn your love light infrared.

The release of Lil Wayne’s Tha Carter III (Cash Money/Universal) this week means there’s about to be a significant Weezy Drought on the national mixtape circuit. And while certain heads might greet this news with grief, Check Yo’ Self is downright giddy about the idea of getting some other material across the boards. Wale The Mixtape About Nothing Mark Ronson’s D.C. boy brings go-go music back with the follow up to December’s 100 Miles and Running. Dropping sound bytes from his favorite Seinfeld episodes, Wale kicks off Nothing with a Seinfeldian “What’s the deal…” rap sequence over a variation of the sitcom’s slap bass intro. He riffs over the Roots’ “Star” and the Flava Flav-sampled “The Hype,” calling to mind Common’s Be. One of the country’s next best MCs. BoB Hi! My Name is BoB Taking a cue from fellow Decatur, Ga., products Outkast, BoB (Business over Bullshit) works within no generic box. Timbo-ringing “Haterz Everywhere” pulls from Stankonia, while “Lonely People” builds on Talib Kweli’s 2003 idea, drops the top, and reels in the gangster. BoB’s a ways away from producing anything close to an LP, but Hi! stands as a good spin and a better introduction. Nas The Nigger Mixtape Esco’s upcoming album, the title of which he’s changed to simply Nas after everyone from Al Sharpton to my mother threw a fit over the previously decided on Nigger, can’t come out soon enough. Here Nas hooks up with DJ Green Lantern for more shock and awe, facing controversy and previewing a few tracks. “Black President” makes Mr. Jones’ political affiliation quite clear.

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The Austin Chronicle's new music video blog, "Earache in My Eye" (Episode One), showcases Charles Potts Magic Windmill Band, including a performance at Mohawk and outtakes from a fireside chat with the group.

I recently asked Harlem guitarist Michael Coomers to describe what his band sounds like. "When kids are jumping on the bed playing tennis rackets like guitars. We are the music that is playing in their brains." If you've seen them live yet, you know that really kind of nails it. For most of its history, Harlem was just Coomers and drummer Curtis O'Mara bashing out lo-fi rock in the deserts of Tuscon, Arizona, which wholly informed their superb garage wooze. Right before they moved here a few months ago, they found third member John Hostetter at a junk store, and they've been playing the shit out of Beerland recently, the perfect incubator for their sloppy, poppy sets. So, the reason for moving to Austin? "We moved to Austin for Barton Springs and stayed for the free nacho bar down the street," Coomers explains. Coincidentally, their new album, Free Drugs ;-) (yes, the smiley face emoticon is part of the title), gets released June 28 at Beerland. But you can catch them sooner! This Sunday at Trailer Space Records (1401-A Rosewood Ave.), 3pm, and the United States Art Authority later that night.

Tremoloco doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a play on the word tremolo that bandleader Tony Zamora and fellow vintage guitar buff Stephen Bruton came up with. Bruton is just one of the many Texas connections that can be found on the Los Angeles-based band’s self-released full-length debut, Dulcinea. It also features appearances by Redd Volkaert, Cindy Cashdollar, Max Baca, Joel Guzman, and Ian McLagan. Dulcinea follows closely in the steps of the Texas Tornados and Los Super Seven, mixing Mexican heritage and American roots rock into a Southwestern stew that’s festive and savory. Zamora claims it’s a combination of his Tex-Mex roots - his mother is from El Paso and his father is Mexican - with youthful influences from growing up in East L.A. “When we first started in 2002, Los Super Seven and Los Lobos were a huge influence,” the 48-year-old explains. “We were covering some of that stuff at shows because I hadn’t written the songs for this album yet, the Cesar Rosas and Freddie Fender stuff. So when it came time to record, this seemed like a natural progression.” The disc was recorded with the production assistance of Los Lobos percussionist Cougar Estrada, who brought more of the Texas influence to the proceedings from his work with artists like Guzman and Sisters Morales.