The Brown, Brown Grass of Home

So I'm off to Austin first thing in the morning, so don't expect much here on the blog until, oh, let's say Monday. I'm taking my laptop and a camera (of course), and if I have wifi access and anywhere from 10-15 minutes of awake-time at my hotel, I'll try to post some pictures and comments throughout the week.

I go into SXSW with only one real scheduling dilemma -- do I go to Stubb's tomorrow night (Weds.) or not? I want to see the final two bands of the night (Dead Confederate and R.E.M.), and knowing Stubb's it's probably wise to get there well before Dead Confederate's 11pm set time. In other words, I probably want to aim for 8:30pm or 9pm. But that would entail me sitting through Summerbirds In The Cellar, Jonathan Rice and Papercranes, none of whom offend me in any way but neither do they excite me. And I'd be giving up seeing A Place to Bury Strangers, Ra Ra Riot, Lightspeed Champion, Okkervil River and possibly Shearwater.

Hmm.... I think I might have just convinced myself to skip Stubb's.

See ya soon.

PS: The title of this post comes from the lyrics of a song that our President sang at a media event last night.