Hot Chip

Austin is cold, wet and at early points, rainy. In fact, given the amounts of British people (or A&R men as we commonly call them), it's practically Camden, but on a clever grid complex. It doesn't bode particularly well, especially as we've only brough sun block and a pair of those 3/4 length emo shorts.

Still, there's a lot more in this world to complain about, so we won't. Besides, there's too much music going on to be distracted by anything other than working out who's playing at which of the 50+ venues around town. First off, we head over to the Fader party (hipster magazine - think Face but with a few more bands in it) in order to see the Cribs, all the way from equally-as-sun-drenched Wakefield. Blustery conditions are bad enough on this outdoor stage; add in the fact that a vocal mike is quickly damaged and not replaced, plus a split lip for the singer, and it's a trying time for the Wichita Recordings lads. As we huddle together for warmth, there's a feeling that it's got to get better than this, and though The Cribs struggle gamely with their triple-sibling pop punk assault, they don't win the day. However, they're playing again a bunch of times in the next few days, so here's hoping for better times for them - they certainly deserve it.

Following on from them, we sit and sip Red Stripe in anticipation of a set from acoustic deviant Lou Barlow. Unfortunately for reasons undisclosed, he fails to appear, despite being seen milling around the party. Instead we are offered the delights of Punish The Atom. Morphing from hardcore-ist guitar tuggers to something a little more pop linear these days, they've lost whatever excitement made them luminaries of the London circuit. Instead, when they sign off by saying "we'd like to thank Lou Barlow for not playing so we can", it's all we can do to stop ourselves shouting very rude things at them. Before we dash off, there's time to experience synthesised LA rockers Something For Rockets. It's all a bit chin strokey-strokey, and their over-thought slick assault does nothing for us.

Heading off to a small church in the suburbs of Austin doesn't seem to be a particularly obvious thing to do when there's a hundred fistfuls of bands playing at anyone time. However, the Moshi Moshi party is a completely different event to most going on. Set in a disused place of worship - The Church Of The Friendly Ghost to be precise - it's filled with beer (Red Stripe appears to be a common theme in Texas this week), curious locals and a smattering of UK fans. Playing among others is Micah P Hinson And The Gospel Of The Progress who transfixes the crowd with an amazing old-South set of blues of folk, drenched in gossamer-lite emotion. Immediately following, Best Fwends prance around like Napolean Dynamite on idiot dress day, rapping like amateur enthusiastics to a cheap 303-induced soundtrack. Critical analysis doesn't come into it. The main draw of the holy setting is the five-strong electronic alchemists that are Hot Chip. Having already outshone Maximo Park in New York two days previous, they set about ensnaring the sizeable crowd with thumping drums, throbbing bass and a whole lot of rhythm and cool. This is a band who are so good, they make a cover of Fleetwood Mac's 'Everywhere' sound like the most soulful song ever committed to tape. THAT good.

Popping back into town, we check out the excellently titled Darker My Love of Echo Park, LA, notable for being Andy Granelli - ex drummer of The Distillers' new band. Darker plug through a set of heavy psychedellic stoner rock that warms to a fiery conclusion. Pretty good rock indeed. Inside Emo's it's a messy affair and Sub Pop's A Frames and The Thermals slip by in a bit of a indefineable sound glut, though that's probably us...

Billy Idol. Why are we seeing Billy Idol? I mean he's nearer 50 than 48, he's got more botox flubbing round his face than I have beer in my body (that much) and he hasn't done anything of note in a decade and a half. The reason obviously, that we're queuing around the block of the outdoor Stubbs venue is 'White Wedding', 'Mony Mony' and 'Dancing With Myself' - peerless songs in a relatively intimate setting. There really was no other option than to see Billy. Sure, it's 50% awful (new songs, crazy solo-ing drummers playing guitars), but the other half - the inspired run through the back catalogue bit is fantastic. So we get the 'White Weddings' and 'Rebel Yells' of this world, and we're happy, drinking beer and punching the air wrapped up in scarves and beanie hats in Austin.