Fashion Week in New York bumped to a halt February 20, and as we took a look back at the eight full days of shows and presentations, regression was one of the biggest stories to emerge. Some designers attempted to work the doom-and-gloom of the recession into their clothes, whether it was utterly defying the Hemline Index or taking funereal-wear to new heights.

Others, like Marc Jacobs, chose to embrace a decade that made him feel happy about clothing and shopping again. He created a collection that referenced not only the 1980s, but evoked the joyful feelings of a New York City that hasn’t existed since then. Not so different from Uncensored Interview’s Yelle, who explained not so long ago that, with her brand of 80s electro-French-pop: “We wanted to make happy music; make happy songs.”

In contrast to fashion vet Jacobs, Erin Wasson (muse/stylist to Alexander Wang and now a designer in her own right) eschewed the runway for a party-like presentation of her line, Erin Wasson x RVCA, with models who flirted with photographers and danced with each other on a platform. Her clothes mix a California surfer aesthetic with an underlying injection of grunge. So Wasson, too, creates looks with a decade-gone-by in mind; and that sense of nostalgia isn’t lost on papercranes, who “really want it to be like it was in the 90s.” Everything’s better in retrospect, especially when your bank account is empty today.

Today’s late update is NOT brought to you by procrastination for once, but rather, a much needed mini vacation taken by yours truly to Boston, the birthplace of that whole pesky “independence movement” of the late 1700′s. I’ll get to the highlights of my trip in tomorrow’s blog, but speaking of violent uprisings of the late 1700′s, did you know that today is also Bastille Day in France? We’ve even got a special Bastille Day theme on Our Homepage, featuring the lovely Yelle teaching you how NOT to pardon your French:

To be completely honest with you though, I have not the slightest idea what Bastille Day commemorates. Seriously, it’s like asking Mary Kate Olsen what overeating feels like – I couldn’t tell you if my life depended on it.

But that doesn’t mean I can’t lie and make up a bunch of shit. After all, I didn’t win Best Bullshitter in high school for nothing. So here’s my take on it: Bastille Day commemorates the French defeat of the bloodthirsty ape-men of Mogotoa, who in 1789 invaded France, stole all of the town’s croissants, and covered the Eiffel Tower in feces and urine. The French sloshed through the jungles of Mogotoa and into the Bastille, the ape-men’s lair where all of the croissants were being stored. A vicious battle raged between the ape-men, who numbered over 100,000, and the French, who numbered a mere 99,999. Also there were some mummies and vampires fighting with the ape-men too, I think.

Anyway, defeat was upon the brave but battered French, until the very last minute when Napoleon swooped in on his fire-breathing dragon, and used his turret gun to save his fellow Frenchies. Thus, the croissants were saved, the fecal-covered Eiffel Tower avenged, and the ape-men and the Bastille destroyed like a toilet after chili night in Carney Wilson’s house.

Why, do my eyes and ears deceive me, or is that sizzling hot MTV Artist of the Week Yelle? It’s a great feeling when your fledgling little indie music website scoops a giant (evil) mega-conglomerate like MTV. We caught up with the French femme fatale last month in NYC, and I immediately knew there was something irresistible about her (I’m pretty certain she had eyes for the Shark as well), so we’re ecstatic that she’s about to break big time here in America. Next up: Bidets. I’m telling you, there’s nothing Americans love more than a clean asshole.

So I know I promised you that I’d finish part 2 of my SXSW Uncensored Recap yesterday, but I also once promised my mother that I’d use the $10 she gave me to get a haircut, but instead my friend Chris and I bought wiffle ball bats and beat the shit out of his little brother, then took a pair of scissors that we found in his bathroom that MAY OR MAY NOT have been used by his dad for genital gardening, and did a quick job on my cranium. Needless to say, when I got home, my mom took one look at me and said “What did you barber have Parkinson’s or something?” The ruse had worked.

Boy, did I just get off course. Ok so honestly, the last 2 days of SXSW were, in one word, Fucking Insane. The majority of Friday and Saturday were spent inside the Austin Convention Center interviewing somewhere around 30 indie bands. It was like an endless gangbang, minus the gross finish and soreness the next morning. Actually, I take that back, there was definitely some soreness the next morning. Some of the bands that I got to interview that I’m really excited to see go up on the site soon are:

• The Whigs (who fucking rocked opening up for My Morning Jacket!)
• Hanson! Yes, THAT Hanson, the trailblazers of the DIY movement in indie music.
• The Autumns
• Ungdomskulen – Norway’s awesome answer to Manowar, minus the gay. I fucking love these guys, all they did was curse and talk about sex and shitting:

Friday night I headed out alone to catch one of my favorite bands of all time, Nada Surf rock the shit out of downtown Austin.

I stumbled hung over into the convention center on Saturday morning, my churning tummy full of some sort of faux-egg concoction that the Holiday Inn was serving, and saw what can only be construed as an omen:

SXSW is a Shark fan! I fucking knew it!

There was an undercurrent of energy in the building on Saturday as we interviewed the likes of These New Puritans, Say Hi, and the amazing Kaki King. Tonight was going to be the rager – the final night of SXSW, the last chance to get drunk, get ass, and generally make a complete fool out of yourself in front of several thousand complete strangers. And man, was everyone pumped for the shit show.

I randomly ran into my old friend Matt Pinfield while heading over to the Bluhammock showcase later in the day, and asked him if he could give The Shark and Uncensored Interview a shout out on his DirecTV SXSW show. Friggin douchebag forgot, just like he “forgot” to meet me at MSG last year to get me into the Jack’s Mannequin show. But I’m not bitter.

Anyway, the Bluhammock showcase was really cool. I was not familiar with any of the Bluhammock artists prior to attending, but they really won me over. In fact, one of their artists are atop my

SXSW Highlights

• Kaiser Cartel – amazing, amazing, amazing teacher duo out of Brooklyn who craft some of the softest, yet catchiest and snap-worthy music I’ve heard in a long time. You have to see them live to appreciate their unique “finale.” Can’t wait till their album comes out in June…
• The Nada Surf show – Although they generally stuck to mostly new stuff from Lucky, seeing them live is always a treat. Nada Surf, UI wants you, answer our calls!
• The Whigs and My Morning Jacket – What a show. I literally went back to my hotel room afterward, fired up iTunes, and bought The Whigs’ new album. And what more can you say about MMJ? Seriously, they always bring the rock.
• Will from Senryu hugging me in the middle of the convention center
• The delicious venison steak I ordered at the UI wrap-party, followed by some post dinner cigars with The Bark and Harris.
• Seeing Janeane Garfalo eating next to us at IHOP – and IHOP just in general.

Lowlights

• Dealing with the moron/borderline psychopath at the front desk of the Holiday Inn, who couldn’t understand that we wanted TWO beds instead of one in the room, got frustrated, and told us “I have emotional problems, I don’t want to do something I regret. It’s my problem, you wouldn’t understand.” Fucking PSYCHO!!
• The Bark blowing my cover after I had successfully snuck into the My Morning Jacket show for free! The bastard at the door ended up making me pay $25 bucks!
• The Perez Hilton party – Free Red Bull and rum is cool, but that’s ALL they had. Free haircuts outside on the patio is also cool, but being surrounded by pompous, insecure hipsters who won’t leave you alone while you wait for said haircut, that’s a fucking F- on my list. You know who you are, guy in blue shirt who told me there’s nothing wrong with being a hipster. That’s like saying there’s nothing wrong with being a child.