Chad Sexton is the drummer for 311, one of my favorite bands, and he’s on the other end of the telephone to discuss the band’s new album Uplifter, produced by the legendary Bob Rock. “It’s definitely more rock than our last two records were. We explored the sounds that we’ve done and a few new ones. Our reggae stuff is on there, our hard rock stuff, some funk going on,” said Sexton, calling in from Charleston, SC.

I spoke with Cage the Elephant for the first time at Spin magazine’s SXSW 2009 party. They were slated to open for Silversun Pickups at Antone’s later that evening, but I wasn’t sure if Matt Schultz’s vocal cords were up for it after the workout they received from the three shows earlier that week. They sounded brittle, like cooked spaghetti that had hardened. I almost asked him to stop talking, but my tape recorder wanted him to continue. He waxed on about his family’s involvement with a religious commune in Kentucky’s hinterland and how it expanded his definition of “weird.”

Sitting across from Theresa Andersson at the Starbucks in downtown Austin’s Omni Hotel, I couldn’t help but notice how her eye makeup (hot pink shadow and cerulean eyeliner) really popped against the beiges and browns of her cardigan. The bold color combo didn’t surprise me. Everything I read prior to meeting Andersson painted her as a free spirit whose aesthetics and musical sensibilities are affected by color, textures, layers, and recreated sounds. Her kitchen in New Orleans, where she recorded the album Hummingbird Go! (Basin Street Records, 2008), is painted a light blue. She hand-stitched scraps of felt to create 1,500 album covers for I the River. Instead of buying a xylophone, she chose to save money by creating one out of glass bottles filled with water. She doesn’t perform with a band; instead, Andersson is backed by an intricate set of loops, pedals, and instruments (all played by the Swede’s capable hands, and at times, bare feet). Over coffee, I tested Andersson’s five senses -- sight, hearing, taste, smell, and touch -- with a little game. Needless to say, she kicked ass.

Randall Jamail, president of Justice Records (Trail of Dead, Willie Nelson, Ian Moore) knows a thing or two about the recording industry -- also about SXSW, one of the biggest music, film, and tech festivals of the year. With a twang as slick and steeped in Texas roots as a lap steel guitar, the troubadour spoke with us about his not-so humble beginnings, his second start, and what it was like to party as a 10-year-old with football demigods and the Red-Headed Stranger.

After escaping unscathed from a Midwestern car crash, ...And You Will Know Us By The Trail of Dead is back on the road (bus engine and trailer repaired), heading home to Austin to play SXSW (March 21 at Emo's). As festival veterans and Austinites, Trail of Dead is in the position to give rookies and tourists advice on where to eat, what to do, and how to survive the orgy. While en route to the Echoplex in Los Angeles, Jason Reece took a few minutes to discuss which bands he plans to decapitate and the charm of a gun-crazed, pig-blood-covered, PCP-fueled last stand at SXSW.

After flying south with Jakob Dylan (he, sprawled out across two leather seats in first class; me, flanked by two big-boned passengers in coach), I arrived in sunny Austin, TX for day one of Austin City Limits, a 3-day music festival with eight stages, local vendors, makeshift head shops selling custom-made glassware, countless cans of beer, and about a jillion bands.

Ne-Yo is a busy man, and for the prodigious singer/songwriter, Labor Day is just another Monday. He’s busy writing songs for New Kids on the Block, Monica, and Michael Bolton. Yep -- the man who’s shaking up dance floors with “Closer” is working with flaxen-haired, saxy-tooting Michael Bolton. Plus, he’s busy promoting his new album Year of the Gentleman. But regardless of his hectic schedule, the suave crooner set aside some time (10 minutes!) to chat about his cool people, romance, and yet another venture he’s undertaken: curating Hennessy Artistry.

What's up with you and NKOTB?
You know what’s cool. They’re New Kids on the Block, not old guys trying to bring it back. They still have their swag about them. It’s a different swag from when they were younger but they still swag all the same. They definitely look like they know what they’re doing.

So hello, Ne-Yo. You're looking so rat pack these days. Can you tell me about what you're wearing?

Button down, red shirt, tie, nice fedora. This is my thing -- the year of the gentleman.

How’d you come up with this concept?

Basically, it's me making an assessment of the business and seeing that the essence of what it means to be a gentleman is lacking nowadays. For example, the guy that will pull a woman's chair out for her when they sit down to eat, the guy that will open a car door for a lady, the guy that takes the time to make sure he looks his best when he walks out of the house, that guy is far and few in between. So I'm basically leading by example, trying to show cats what it means to be a gentleman again.

Yesterday, music stars Chris Brown, Ne-Yo, and Julianne Hough gathered for a performance at the Nokia theatre in Times Square to celebrate a partnership with Wrigley's chewing gum. The three re-record the classic jingles for Big Red, Doublemint, and Juicy Fruit, you know the ones. Shortly after making my way backstage, I had my camera ostensibly stolen, snatched, violently confiscated by Chris Brown's henchmen while taking backstage photos of his girlfriend Rihanna mouthing the words to his hit single "No Air." They scolded me, chastised me, and erased my photos. On the bright side, Brown told me about his new dance competition reality show and why it'll avoid all clichés. No offense to J.C. Chasez, of course.

Yesterday, a horde converged on Nike Field in Chinatown's Sara D. Roosevelt Park. The masses pressed three deep against the chain-link fence circling the astroturf. Many stood on benches and picnic tables. Some even scaled the 30-foot enclosure. Rumor has it that a fanatic German climbed a tree for a birds-eye view. With this kind of commotion, one might think that professional athletes were playing a pickup game of football ("soccer" in American). Turns out that's exactly what happened -- for charity, no less.