Some afternoons you let the festival come to you a little - you'll be spending all night pursuing her anyway.
We got migas at a little bakery clear of the SXSW crowd, beer for a party at the loft tonight (I can get you in), then found our way into Stubb's for the Spin party.
I found Chairlift's album a little cold, but warmed by Texas sun they sounded positively inviting. Caroline Polachek whips her willowy frame around yowls and yodels, working her long and lovely arms into a mesmerising choreography.
But the real choreography was yet to come - Santigold has two dancers who pointedly stand in front of mics and don't sing, but rather bang on drums, shake golden pom-poms and dance like they were trained in the Republic of Wadiya's Dance Academy. When they invited some fans onstage, everyone followed suit, bouncing like they meant it. Other bands look entirely lazy in comparison.
And, por fin, we found ourselves atop a multistory parking lot watching James Mercer and The Shins pleasure a crowd who knew exactly what they were getting. The Shins have been working hard, popping up all over the place, and they looked a little worse for wear. But then, don't we all.