The editorial team unanimously decided that no one wanted to read Jeff’s long-winded rambles for a third consecutive year. Instead, we turned to special Passion of the Weiss SXSW correspondent, Hannibal Moncrief, the lead singer/guitarist/theremin player for death metal power trio, Infinite Transgression.  As payment, he will be receiving 32 cans of PBR, a two month supply of Turkey Jerky, and a slightly unused Racquetball Racket.

Call me Hannibal Motherfucking Moncrief. It’s about time the Passion turned over its space to some real hardcore musicians, not the anaconda pants-rap and laptop bloopity blah that passes for musical erudition in this space. Yeah, that’s right, I used “erudition.” Don’t be fooled thinking that just because Hannibal Moncrief plays epic and massively virile guitar riffs that it doesn’t mean that he didn’t attend Bates on a 20 percent music scholarship. Shit was cold, but I’ve got chops and I intend to use them over the next week. Then again, those 187 of you that already legally copped Infinite Transgression’s debut, Barnacle,  our 115 minute nautical ode to Ulysses, ought to know that we make those hipster metal bands look straight BOJO. Mastodong, you know you can’t see us and even if you could, you’d still know where the fuck to find Hannibal Moncrief — in the highest realm of musical creativity making sweet love to his guitar, several naked skeezers with tatted Interpol lyrics from a phase they had in ’03, and possibly a four day-old baguette.

We’re here in Austin for SXSW to play 32 shows in 3 days. Yeah, that might sound intense, but we’ve got a plan. Each show will be one minute shorter than the previous one, until we conclude the festival with a 1-minute set Saturday night that could make even Dick Cheney cry tears of vodka due to its sonic beauty and virtuosity.  You also might ask yourself, what would a metal power trio be doing down in Austin, the city that never shaves? But we’re not your grandmother’s metal band. Granted, we’re out to prove to the rest of these poseurs in pork pie hats and lanyards that there’s a place for musicians who know how to play more than two chords. But we’re also trying to get famous. Where else can you perform in front of hundreds of journalists, radio personalities, and John Norris, all of them eating Zune-sponsored tacos and drinking Margaritas sponsored by Hornitas. Shit is wicked on these mean streets. Rest assured, by the end of the week, our parents will be no longer be paying the rent on our rehearsal space.

I knew we were at the right spot when I overheard someone in the convention center talk about how he had “a huge rolodex.” These are exactly the sort of people Infinite Transgression needs to impress: Tastemakers who know how to Tweet. The sort of people that we met at the Live.Create.Lounge sponsored by Zone Perfect Bars (which are fucking delicious!), where we learned that if you use #livecreate to turn Tweets into twitterfiti, you can become a trending topic — one of our primary goals when we founded Infinite Transgression. Really the only thing that pissed off Hannibal was all the douchespigots with Blackberries. Hannibal Moncrief uses an iPhone because Hannibal Moncrief is creative. Remember, it’s all about the music.

Hannibal Moncrief & Neon Indian: The Early Years

With no shows planned until Friday, we spent the first day getting down with our new surroundings, networking (both kinds), and peeping the competition — specifically, our arch rivals Neon Indian. You might think that I.T. was always a metal band, but we’ve only been destroying Highland Park dive bars for the last six months. Before that, I was the frontman of a DIY tape-only, 80s-inflected, synth-pop outfit, Bathtub Gin. For those brainwashed by the Wall St. Journal and Hipster Runoff’s conservative agenda, HANNIBAL MONCRIEF INVENTED CHILLWAVE. I thought it up one day when I was drunk off six Tom Collins’s at Raging Waters. I was floating down their Rage Runner ride and wondering why there wasn’t a kind of mellow beach electro for all of us broseph’s — we needed our Dick Dale.

The answer was obviously Hannibal Moncrief, so I recorded some truly authentic and heartfelt tunes inspired after my pet goldfish Maimonides passed away, sent them to Gorilla Vs. Bear and got NO RESPONSE. Next thing, I knew I’m at Neon Indian’s set at SXSW surrounded by a bunch of people who used to be into post-punk before they discovered that the lead singer of Bloc Party was gay. It was bullshit and when I stepped to Neon after the set, he tried to play me like he didn’t know who I was. Like “bitch, like you I weren’t trading Ukranian New Wave tapes from ’83 and dressing up as Hall & Oates for Halloween that one time I rolled through Texas on the Bathtub Gin: Naked Except My Sole tour.”  Punks jump up to get beat down.

Fuck. Hannibal Moncrief’s bandmates — Arthur Fenstock and Mr. Rousseau are tripping, telling me that we’ve got to first show of the day. We’re going to play the Aquarium Drunkard’s Day Party and show all those namby-pamby neo-folkies what time it is. The Drunkard doesn’t even know we’re coming through to blow his mind, but that’s alright — Infinite Transgression brought a whole tank of chloform in case any bloggers try to divert us from our agenda of world domination. I’m pissed off I didn’t even get to tell you about the Flying Lotus show my bandmates dragged me too last night. Hannibal Moncrief isn’t much of a fan of dubstep because he’s still pissed at the British for James Blunt, but he had a good time. Because he is a godhead of creativity, he also invented a new dance-rap trend called “Rubstep,” in which you grind against a chickenhead at 140 BPM’s. Check for it on Infinite Transgression’s YouTube page. Everything is viral these days, y’all — unless it’s bacterial.

STAY TUNED…..