Ahh … as much fun as South by Southwest is, I always think my favorite moment is when it's over and life returns to (somewhat) normal.

A few thoughts: While I'm sure a lot of registrants could give a damn about international politics on their scenester version of spring break, it seemed that this Festival tried their damnedest to drag them there, one way or the other. The most obvious example is the anti-war rally at the Capitol and City Hall on Saturday, commemorating the fourth anniversary of the invasion of Iraq. But another, little-noted one was the free show Friday at Auditorium Shores. After running through a blistering opener containing of several of their classics, Public Enemy then segued into "Son of a Bush," complete with the following chant: "Fuck George Bush, Fuck Dick Cheney, Fuck Tony Blair, Fuck Condoleeza!"

Even if the sound wasn't the best, and Chuck D's Howard Cosell vox got winded occasionally, there was still something undeniable about it. Especially since most music is silent, or at best, oblique, about Iraq.

The round of apologetic phone calls was kept to a minimum, but that doesn't mean the night wasn't a success. Saturday gave me two of the best discoveries this week. Mika Miko are five young ladies from L.A. who encapsulate everything good about rock & roll. One red telephone used as a microphone was passed around like it was a slumber party, as guitar and saxophone birthed trashy, synthy little nightmares. They were on the cover of Maximum RockNRoll recently, and I would not fuck with any of them.

Then there was Dandi Wind, a Montreal singer who is sort of a younger and slightly more unhinged Peaches. On Beauty Bar's stage, she looked like a psychedelic Olivia Newton John, bouncing all over in what looks like an ostrich coat. The energy she and her band radiated, along with the unicorn piñatas and fake eggs filled with confetti that were thrown into the crowd, added a fragrant air of manic art-school dropout to the whole Festival. She also seems like she might cut you.

I love them. I love the Lesbians on Ecstasy. (And I'm not the only one.) I will always dance like a spaz when they play. I will always have to put my hat in my back pocket and wake up with a sore neck. I will always jump like a giggling schoolgirl, grabbing at all the glow sticks lead hot-dogger, Frankie (or Lynne T, hot, you mighta heard her spin over IDKE), is chucking at the crowd, with this devilish grin. I will always be silly with glee, jumping up and down over and over again, in synch with these four Canadian rockers, dancing my heart out while they match the sentiment with what you expect from them, a sweaty, deep, dark electro-thrash of a good time. Mmmm.

More later. Because love doesn't fade.

HOME!

Don't know about anyone else there, but when the Octopus Project started playing with Black Moth Super Rainbow (they just made an album together), the energy started swirling, whipping around, kids started jamming in, taking up space like Japanese high-rises, anywhere we could fit, and there, pushed up against the wall, barely catching a glimpse of the audio-visual extravaganza, I felt the floor give.

'Tis true, 'Merica (the beautiful) has its very own Britpop sensation just waiting to happen. And they're as American as a fag in the Castro Scissors for Lefty from San Fran. The lead singer of this band, Bryan, is one of those guys who seems to transcend this plane of existence. This reality. He embraces your arm when he talks to you, floats smiles like blades of grass, but you're not always sure he's right there with you while he's spouting such joy. Just … somewhere.

So, Sunday morning has come, and there's little left to do but snip off your wrist band, try to scrub out all those ink stamps and marker pen blotches off the back of your hand, and get back to a South-by-free life for a year.

Everyone will have their own memories of music at SXSW 2007 ... like furious Japanese pop muppets The 50 Kaitenz bringing their mop-top stomp to a day party in a barnyard (complete with goat) ... Jello Biafra condemning the administration with a swift "seig howdy!" as the crowd sucks down crawdads ... Schoolgirl ska-sters Oreskaband showing their seniors how it's done ... the anonymous hardcore crew that set up amps on the town lake foot bridge at 2am and gathering a crowd hundreds strong ... standing unsuccesfully in the round-the-block cue for Bob Mould at Buffalo Billiards, and walking straight in on him accidentally the next day at Emo's annex ... Andrew WK explaining love to the crowd ... Kid Beyond blowing minds ... Michael Showalter admitting he hides his AOR collection under cool band names on his iPod ... Athens, GA., funk-soul-glam-gospellers Dark Meat trying to cram all 18 members on the same stage ... Mike of Riverboat Gamblers giving up on the stage and stalking through the crowd in a surprise late night set at Red 7 ... Experimental noiseniks Gorch Fock winning over baffled drinkers with one of the last sets of the festival ... Bowling For Soup playing 'spot the camera' with the people from DirecTV at ACC ... psychofolkabilly crew Asakusa Jintaproving that, when it comes to audience participation, language is no barrier ...

Slipped in (literally – how we got in is still a mystery; I swear, I pulled no strings) to the blessedly early South by Southwest Buzzcocks set. So foxy fierce, even as close as they are to assisted living.

Damn formative faggots (at least Pete Shelley), I must say. At least they helped set me on my path back in the day, that's for sure. Has GLAAD ever given an image award to these poofs? And tell the truth: How many of you masturbated to "Orgasm Addict" in 1981? C'mon, raise your hand.

Oh, that means I have to stop typing…

You know that minute, when you are so saturated with the throng and tired of fighting the tide on yet another street blocked off to accommodate the drunken proletariat? Well, I always have at least one of those per South by Southwest day and a sure fire way to calm me is to surround myself with friendly (albeit snarky) faces. So when parking stress on SoCo was gettin' me down, I slipped into Vivid/Blackmail to get some luv. Fashionista clerks Jeremy and Sherry always have something dishy to say. So I poked them like bears to see what bugged them most about the crowds this year.

Jeremy was in a very good mood (the store was staying nice and bu$y) and said he wasn't bitter yet but still managed this: "Slouch boots. I am so over slouch boots. And sorority girls in slouch boots. You can't take a sorority girl and stick her in a pair of Urban slouch boots and make her a hipster. It just doesn't happen. Wait, that sounds mean. I'm just grumpy because I can't get my coffee. I am not waiting in that line at Jo's."

Owners Gail (click gallery link) and Evan were seen outside pushing their twin babies up street into the sunset. Sweet.