Many think A&R - the R&D wing of music labels - is a thing of the past in a rocked industry of whittled-down staffs. "Everyone in the music business is in the same boat right now," said Mackta. "The changes tend not to be positive. Everyone is doing more with less. Fewer people wearing more hats." Ganbarg offered, "If you're an artist doing it yourself or on a major label, you need to think of different revenue streams. It's scary - in New York, Virgin is closed, and Tower is closed. If you want a buy a CD you need to go to Best Buy."

What should a DIY artist be focusing on? "Could be touring," said Goldstone. "Though what might work for hip-hop artist might not work for an independent singer-songwriter. Ultimately live shows and touring as a blanket term would work for everyone. I love live music but at the same time that's an area that hasn't been as effected by the economy. Also work with an artist who has a strong vision." "The one constant is, do you have great music and is the live show great?" added Ganbarg who said Atlantic recently broke two young artists the "old-fashioned way": by having the "right records, vision, great songs, and they tour constantly."

Kiewel has had a different experience with groups like Fleet Foxes. During a notoriously bad time for most of the music industry, he said, "We saw our greatest success - we had a band last year, Fleet Foxes, that was the fastest selling debut in the history of label. They had never toured - it was just this shot out of left field. But we've seen that a lot in the last couple years: Band of Horses, the Shins - all those records were recorded for one grand or less. I think there's something else going on with all these changes in the market."

Yarrr: Revenge of the brass band nerds.

To market, to market - everyone was out on the streets: from Austin band Quiet Company and gangs of kids giving out free hugs to brass bands of costumed critters to circles of MCs to the spunky Fullerton combo the Audacity, who i last spied at Ghost Town Gallery in Oakland.

How about a wet nap chaser?: Free hugs on the avenues of Austin.

Joy division: What happens in Glasvegas...

Next up, the Spin party at Stubb's, where Scotland's Glasvegas was spinning "You Are My Sunshine" into its Pogue-like mix of folk and punk-pop. Take the tough quasi-goth black garb away and the outfit is as musically winsome as any shy and retiring indie combo. Plus or minus the sunglasses-at-night attitude. "You bunch of lucky bastards - first us then the Bunnymen," drawled vocalist James Allen.

Our luck holds: Ian McCulloch smolders, smokes at Stubb's.

You rang? Chiming guitars, sultry vocals, and those ineffable, cutting melodies - Echo and the Bunnymen kicked off with an energized "Rescue" as if to say, "Guess who's here to rescue post-punk pop and pass around more of that mysterious medicine?" Pros, don't you know - with McCulloch clutching the mic stand for dear life. And so strange to see them in broad daylight, rather than cloaked in darkness and faux-smoke.

Bunny hope: Guitarist Will Sergeant.

Hang on: Sonics' Larry Parypa.

Choked dinner down at Cheeseburger Paradise at top speed in order to tear down Sixth Street to see the reunited Sonics. The early '60s garage rock legends were packing them in at Emo's main space - I had to queue up inside the club just to creep into the room. No wonder: more than 40 years may have elapsed since the group broke up, yet guitarist Larry Parypa was still capable of raging solos, and lead vocalist and keyboardist Gerry Roslie was in fine, fine form, wailing like a specter of oil slicks long gone, "Here's a Sonics drinking song, 'Strychnine'!" In the other room of Emo's: YellowFever was transporting the lo-fi pop of Beat Happening into the take-charge '00s with punchy, powerful drumming and wistfully girlish singing.

Pretty poison: A fearsome Gerry Roslie.

Shaking: YellowFever gives the chills.

Loud and louder: Mayyors achieve lift-off.

The mystique may be dissipating with each performance - but who cares: Sacramento's Mayyors are still incredible - powerful and noisy enough to start a mosh pit among the otherwise-mild-mannered record collectors at the group's WFMU/Aquarius showcase at Spiro's. That Bad Brains T-shirt on vocalist John Pritchard is the key. Also loud and proud - imagine Deerhunter's Bradford Cox fronting a thrash unit - is Baton Rouge, La.'s Thou, ripping their own little niche in the Southern Lord program. Nearby Warwick, N.Y.'s Woods found an original sound melding acid-country- and folk-tinged songs with semi-crazed noise-making courtesy one member on all fours on the floor with a headphone/mic in his maw like a ball-gag. The visual effect: an odd, indie-rock Deliverance-style master-slave scenario. Intentional? Definitely intriguing.

Dark and deep: Into the Woods.

Existenz: I and Thou.

Focused, frenzied: Kirk Hammett shreds in the shed.

"I was out of tune on the last two songs so we're gonna do them again," joked James Hetfield. Relaxed and ready to kick out the jams, Metallica had the fans - badges or no - lining up around the block for their Guitar Hero showcase and banging their heads in desperation. Sounds like it was a long soundcheck but then again, I was in the queue, so how would I know? Once in, the NorCal guys sounded great: taut, well-oiled, impassioned. "Are you ready for heavy?" Hetfield asked at one point. "Good." For their toil and trouble, the audience got more than an hour of music: "Harvester of Sorrow," "One," "For Whom the Bell Tolls," and "Master of Puppets," sprinkled with Hetfield's pirate cackles. A far cry from what I feared: Metallica showing up and simply playing their Guitar Hero video game against home players in front of a stunned crowd. Then again, that sounds like fun...

More intimate than an arena: James Hetfield gets down.

Emo means emotional: The Pains of Being Pure of Heart pop out.

Brained: Roy Head goes to the head of class at Continental Club.

How to follow that up? With the poppiest combo in the Slumberland stable. Is it the name, the rep, their sweet tempers - in any case, SXSW in-the-know types were clamoring to get into the Pains of Being Pure of Heart. I waited till a dozen or so listeners tumbled out the door to get in and behold possibly the poppiest of the new generation of indie kids. I can picture the Pains of Being Pure of Heart someday penning themes to TV sitcoms - they're that commercial. And that's not an insult.

Certainly Roy Head won't take it as such - the man was a contender back in the day and at the Continental Club across the river, he proved he can still put a dent in our skulls with his James Brown-ish stage antics and dives to the floor. The only - and weirdest - thing to follow Head: Silver Apples' Simeon Coxe III, who proceeded to show us that his music is as relevant as ever. Laptop rockers and digital savants everywhere owe him a debt - and the songs he created on his homemade synthesizer in the early '60s sound like they could have been made just yesterday.

Starlight: Silver Apples' Simeon twirls knobs into the night.