The home stretch! It's the last full day of SXSW, and since yesterday was abbreviated, I feel fully rested and raring to go. On the way downtown I talk to one of the guys who organized last night's show on the pedestrian bridge. There's going to be another one tonight, he tells me, with Tyvek, US Girls, Psychedelic Horseshit, and hopefully AIDS Wolf, although he doesn't want me to spread it around. I get kind of excited about it all, before remembering that I'm not really into any of those bands, although US Girls sounds pretty fun and I keep hearing good things about Tyvek. We bat around the Kanye rumor (he's playing tonight at the Fader Fort) and I overhear him tell some other people that Kanye may be at the pedestrian bridge, which is a total lie. This is word-of-mouth marketing in effect, folks.

Anyway, I am on my way to Waterloo Park for an outdoor show with a jam-packed lineup. By the time I get there, the thing is well under way, and crowds of people are enjoying the out-of-doors, cramming in one more day of music. People around me are starting to look a little burnt out but I feel fantastic. I just miss Vetiver but soon enough Cursive starts up.

This is what Cursive looks like. I meet up with some friends. I hear about the band Team Robespierre, which played earlier. They weren't part of the official lineup, didn't play on a stage or anything. Anyway, a little eight-year-old kid was crowdsurfing during their set. By all reports, he looked pretty nervous about it and had to be coaxed into doing it by his mom. After that, the lead singer from Team Robespierre started projectile vomiting into the crowd. This is rock 'n' roll, people. The other guys in the band said she wasn't even that drunk, it was just the hot sun. After hearing this story, we decide that Cursive is boring so we go over to the smaller stage on the other side of the park, where Abe Vigoda is playing.

They are fine. It's a good band to ease into the day. Their uber-clean, echoey guitar sound and upbeat tempo is just on the pleasant side of punk, and today's sunshiney mood is no mood for getting aggro. We talk about the Team Robespierre vomit incident some more and remember that Black Lips are playing later, who once got in trouble for peeing on stage. We have a pretty long debate about whether it is better to theoretically get vomited on, or pissed on by a band during a show. We decide that getting pissed on is better, because it is more deliberate, whereas vomit is generally accidental. I should mention at this point that I didn't take any notes today, so most of what you're getting is incomplete, half-remembered thoughts and poorly taken photographs. I hope you'll be okay with that.

Thao Nguyen and the Get Down Stay Down starts playing on the other stage. Another ideal outdoor band. I've seen Thao lots of times, so I don't pay careful attention and instead soak up the sunny afternoon in the park vibe. It's really nice. I drink my first gigantic can of Foster's.

We decide to go back to the small stage to see Japanther. They are a regular bunch of cut-ups, those Japanther kids. The two of them sing into reappropriated telephone receivers, although I wonder if they are actually real phones because they are singing into the earpiece end of them. They play along to backing tapes—literally. Their last song is them playing over the Ramones' "Do You Wanna Dance," which becomes weirdly disconcerting when they lose the tempo and become noticeably out of sync. I don't understand why this band exists, but I enjoy them, and so does everyone else. There is a ton of stagediving and crowdsurfing, to almost comic proportions. I quickly see that crowdsurfing is a talent: Some people are very good at it, and stay up for long periods of time, while others are very bad and plummet to the ground almost immediately.

Soon the band is done, and we mosey back to the big stage for Vivian Girls, but not before grabbing the WORST TACO EVER.

I mean, look at it. Even the tortilla is all raggedy ass.

Fuck you, shitty taco! And fuck you, shitty taco truck I bought it from!

Anyway, Vivian Girls are playing again and I've already seen 'em play earlier in the week, from about six feet away. Now they are about six hundred feet away so it's tough to pay attention. However, I once again spot My Favorite Person at SXSW, the superfan kid who could barely contain his excitement at the Titus Andronicus show on Friday. He's onstage with the Vivian Girls, dancing with a bunch of other people! Yeah, kid! You rock! And he's standing mere inches away from the uber-hot dreamy redheaded bass-playing Vivian Girl! Go, kid! (In the above picture, he is facing right with a bag around his shoulder, just to the left of the breathtaking redheaded bass player. Sigh.)

We go back over to the smaller stage—a lot of back and forth, but it's pretty much the perfect way to spend the afternoon if you ask me—and some band is just finishing playing. I can't remember their name. They are playing some sort of metal—either death or speed, we can't determine which—and they look and sound SO VERY, VERY ANGRY. It is impossible for me to take them seriously, especially on a beautiful, sunny, warm day surrounded by lush green trees. Lighten up, dudes! The lead singer is now bleeding from the forehead (perhaps he thwacked it on a microphone?). Soon I am overtaken with uncontrollable giggles at their utter ridiculousness, and I realize I have polished off three ginormous cans of Foster's in about 60 minutes under the hot sun.

It's back over to the main stage for my new favorite band of all time, the Thermals, who just absolutely ruled on Thursday. They are pretty terrific again today; it's their last show of SXSW and it feels like a victory lap, perhaps lacking the urgency of the previous show I saw. But damn they are fun.

God bless the Thermals. What else can I say? Here we are, at the tail end of a long four days, sweating under the Texas sun.

And Hutch is sweating harder than any of us.

I can't remember what band this is. I think it's the Bronx? Not sure. Anyway, I only caught one song by the Bronx, but it was the "motherfucker, I want your blood!" song, which is my favorite song of theirs. So the one song was enough. If you can't tell what's happening in this picture, it's someone (who's not in the band) in mid-stage dive, falling backwards into the crowd.

Lucero's up next, and I like this band, but their set leaves me a little cold. Live, it becomes immediately apparent that this band is desperately trying to live up to a cliche: a boozed-out band of Southern good ol' boys playing the most ragged, tear-in-your-beer heartland rock.

Most of the bands today at the park have had crowds of people join them onstage, but I notice that the people onstage for Lucero are suspiciously older and MILF-ier. Cougars love Lucero—who knew?

Monotonix is next. You probably know about Monotonix by now. I've seen them before, in a smaller venue. If you can't actually see this band, they're not much to listen to. Which was a problem with this sized crowd. But, still, what I could see was fun.

This is what the show looks like for most of their set. Things being thrown in the air, not much of the band visible.

Then this happens...

Then this happens...

Then this...

And this...

Then this.

What! How did that get in there?

It's time for Akron/Family on the smaller stage, and I think it's safe to say they are a hippie jam band. What most people will overlook is that they are a really fucking good hippie jam band, one that almost completely rehabilitates the genre after decades of being soiled by terrible, awful bands like the Grateful Dead and Phish. Seriously, I think more people should give Akron/Family a chance, because they are fucking phenomenal live, and I've never said that about any jam band ever.

Somehow, they convinced two dudes to hold up this flag for the entire set. They introduced the dude on the left as Seth Rogan. Ha ha! I bet that guy gets it all the time. (Note: It wasn't actually Seth Rogan.)

When I say jam band, please keep in mind that Akron/Family doesn't do guitar-noodly-funk-groove stuff. They construct and deconstruct somewhat lengthy pieces with all sorts of musical elements: African township/highlife guitar twinkle and abrasive, industrial noise seem to be the flavors they're currently most interested in at the moment. All three are solid musicians, but the drummer is incredible, keeping time, playing incredibly fast, but still having everything remain fluid and focused. Seriously, sick.

Anyway, you should go see Akron/Family, even if you think you don't like that kind of music. Let me put it this way: most jam bands require drugs if you're going to listen to them, because without them the bluesy-groove music is flat out boring. Akron/Family make music so weird and adventuresome that you feel like you actually are on drugs just by listening to it. There's a very big difference here.

There are some more bands left at the park, including Black Lips and Kid Sister, but I am ready to mosey, and wander down Red River back into the thick of things. I end up at Club DeVille to see Iran, about whom I have heard a few rumblings. But the band doesn't do anything for me and I get bored. I don't want to trash talk them too much; Kyp Malone from TV on the Radio used to be in the band but he has left for much greener pastures, so anything else I say about them will just be kicking them when they're down. I leave. Somewhere in here are more tacos—good ones, this time.

There's a long line outside Emo's Jr. for Efterklang, which surprises me a little, especially since the badgeholder line is not budging at all. Efterklang has really good word of mouth, but when the line starts moving again, I hear that the fire marshal was just inside so maybe that's why we had to wait. Anyway, the Danish band is terrific, full of energy, orchestral in a slight way, surreal and cerebral in equal doses. That's Portland's own Peter Broderick with the violin, concealed behind the mic stand there. I was unhappy to have missed his solo set earlier in the week, so I am glad I get a chance to see him play with Efterklang.

Next is An Horse, from Australia, who I really like. The duo simply plays good rock songs. This is all that matters, really. My brain starts swimming a little bit. I can't remember much more other than: it was good! I go out to the back to chat with some friends and collect my wits a little bit. And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead is playing in the Emo's big room, and from the back patio we can see and hear them through the open door. It's close enough.

I embark on a daunting, crazy trek down E 6th Street, which has become a complete and utter madhouse. It's overrun with revelers, spring breakers, and college kids. It is literally a zoo, and the only experience I have to compare it to is Mardi Gras in New Orleans. Being in the thick of this immense, moving, soused crowd is a little scary. I dart into Maggie Mae's and catch Youth Group, another Australian band with pristine, sparking pop songs. I like their record a lot, although it is very slick stuff. The songs are good live, too, but I'm having trouble remembering much more. I suppose if Youth Group's set had been the best thing ever, I would have been able to recall that much, so I can only assume it wasn't.

And finally over to Red 7 to see Jack Oblivian, who I missed earlier in the week due to scheduling snafus. This dude writes great songs, too, with catchy, familiar, but ultimately fresh garage nuggets. The band plays them competently and straightforwardly, and it's a good band to close out my SXSW. I head back to the hotel, a little limply, with my brain turning into goop. I did it. Finished.

Total taco count (including the two breakfast tacos I had this morning at the Austin airport) = 17

Total band count = ????

That's all, folks!!!