One bottle of Advil, five multi-vitamins, three beers and a couple of sleep-in days later and I’m finally recovering from the four-day long musical affair of the year held in Austin, Texas, over spring break.

Most likely the thousands of musicians, writers, producers, agents and music buffs who also attended the 11th annual South by Southwest music festival are just getting back into the swing of things too.

The whole affair went off rather smoothly despite the potent combination of rock stars, swilling alcohol, pushy agents and scrambling journalists abound. Somehow everyone managed to have way too much fun, make new friends and play nicely with others.

Talent was oozing from several of Austin’s hot venues for four gigantic nights in a row as those who attended tried to fit 10 pounds o’ fun into a five pound bag. With more than 600 bands playing every hour from 8 p.m. to 2 a.m. at 36 different venues, the game of scheduling an evening of shows to attend became rather taxing.

After flipping back and forth through my wonderful SXSW guidebook somewhere around 50 times, my plans were complete. With complimentary highliter in hand, I brightened the names of bands who were to make my nights in Austin complete.

I had a general idea of whom I wanted to see before I had even left Ames, but once I hit the trade show and was bombarded with CDs, stickers, mugs and press kits about the newest next best thing, my agenda was somewhat altered.

Best name (and other indy acts)

Hate Fuck Trio from Colorado was one of the many bands whom I previewed at the trade show and wanted to check out. Due to conditions beyond my control (time and lack of cloning), I missed them. Others on that list include Ben Lee, the Grassy Knoll, Semi Gloss, Idiot Flesh (a band who actually inflates on stage) and Japan’s Tengoku Jack.

I will make a nod to the Impotent Sea Snakes, a rather interesting group who will play Des Moines in the near future. I must say, if you do attend, you will not believe your eyes.

Best deals (the trade show)

While hanging out at a booth comparing notes with a Texas journalist, I met New York’s favorite comic wizard Too Much Coffee Man Shannon Wheeler. He was on hand to personalize free t-shirts with his sarcastic scrawlings. My shirt was engraved with a a steamy cup o’ joe splatting a bird. Yipes!

Also while at the trade show, which went on during the day, I was able to see Kelly Willis, who has been described as Janis Joplin fronting for the Allman Brothers in a garage. I also saw wacky San Francisco poet Carmaig de Forest and Victoria Williams.

Forest is one cool cat. With a voice much like the Violent Femmes lead singer, he expounds poetry in motion. My personal fave was “The Story of Sloan” which went something like this: “In the East Village cafe near where Sloan now studies Swedish massage he says to me, ‘You’re from San Francisco. Man, I had a real bad night in San Francisco.'”

I felt like I had been caught in a sixties whirlwind of beat poetry mixed with a bit of schtick from So I Married an Axe Murderer.

The age range of musicians spanned the scale from Australia’s newest pop-cutie, 18 year-old Ben Lee, to crowd-pleaser 73-year-old Tony Bennett giving added oomph to the theory that age is merely a number.

Best show: Tony Bennett

Although I’m inclined to give the best of show award to New York’s Soul Coughing, I feel it is my duty to bestow it to Tony Bennett and his trio who packed it in at Austin Music Hall. What a magical start to a rather magical Thursday evening. Bennett shook his thang to such old favorites as “The Best Is Yet to Come” noting rather friskily how he felt just like Tom Jones.

He covered yesterday’s divas from Billie Holiday’s “In My Solitude,” Barbra Streisand’s “People” to Ethel Mermen’s “Who Could Ask for Anything More?”

Bennett was every man’s man when he also said he felt just like Michael Jackson up there dancing. Despite a few minor differences, he was close.

While Bennett was perfecting his moon walking, Douglas Richardson practically stole the show right out from under Bennett’s nose during a stellar solo. Former percussionist for the late Sammy Davis Jr., Richardson’s hands and four sticks were one big blur that left the audience breathless.

Bennett emerged victorious with a happy thumbs up after performing “All of Me”, “Old Devil Moon” and lastly “Fly Me to the Moon” to a very satisfied and nostalgic audience.

Best night on the town

Then I tripped off to Grand Royal night to hang with most of the New Yorkers that were in Austin. I had just missed Ben Lee, but was fortunate enough to slide into the Electric Lounge to catch Berlin’s Atari Teenage Riot.

About 50 unlucky puppies didn’t make it in. A half hour of continuous strobe lights and wacky remix combined with thrash guitar and German chants rather stunned and pleased the packed house.

Without a warning, some strange substance that felt like dirt pelted the crowd. As the lights returned to normal, I realized it was only harmless shiny confetti.

Less than two minutes after the show was over, the room transformed into a ghost town. The next band up, Bis, was out of luck. Such fickle SXSWesties.

Musically exhausted, I hopped a cab over to Scholz Beer Garten for L.A.’s Royal Crown Revue at 1 a.m. Joining up with the crew, I felt I had to jam to this band, rather than sit on the picnic table. With horns galore, it was more swing that you can shake a stick at.

Best theme night: Ska

Friday (ska) night went bang with Florida’s Less Than Jake at Stubb’s outdoors. Plastic guns that shot sparks were nonchalantly thrown to the little ska-sters. The M-Shop’s own Dave Newton, Ames’ Ska-Queen Boo and I represented our fine state of Iowa as we briefly took to the stage for some serious fun. The evening was chilly and hay was flying (we felt at home).

Quickly we hopped in the car and traveled through the throng to our next ska-licious event, Save Ferris, at the Back Room. The lead singer is a souped-up version of No Doubt’s Gwen Stefani. She belted vocals with a take-no-prisoners attitude and created quite a spectacle for a band named after one of the greatest movies of the 80’s, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.

Best free gift

Ever heard of Soul Coughing? Ouch, this band was so splendorifically fantastic I’m still hopping around my living room from the after-effects. I was fortunate enough to catch Soul Coughing in Manhattan at Irving Plaza last July. Then I was impressed.

Maybe it was Austin or maybe it was the fact that the band was playing in front of about 10,000 more people. With keyboard muse Sebastian Steinberg’s freight train style of commandeering, the scene was set. It was majestic and eery all at once.

Lead singer M. Doughty’s physical machinations created a character straight out of one of Tim Burton’s wet dreams. His maneuvers included hand and facial gestures that counteracted and also strangely complemented the music. I guess you call that dancing. I think he was digitally preprogrammed for the show or had just been “drifting on a coffee buzz.” Whatever it was, it was oddly phenomenal.

Soul Coughing gave equal play to both of their albums Ruby Vroom! and Irristible Bliss. Early on, the crowd heard everyone’s favorite “Bus to Beelzebub.” From “Blue-Eyed Devil” to the mellow “True Dreams of Wichita” to “Super Bon Bon,” the show was complete with a solid set of bubbly hysteria.

Out of the thousands of people crowding Austin Music Hall, my friends and I were less than five feet from the front of the stage. This put me in the opportune position to snag a $17.95 slightly battered Maraca thrown out by drummer Yuval Gabal.

The more I think about it, Gabal’s Maraca makes quite the perfect addition to the budding musician’s room at my house.

The band took a moment from the madness and gave its sincere condolences to the late Rev105 radio station in Minneapolis, a major supporter of Soul Coughing.

Quite simply, M. Doughty left the stage with two words: “one love.”

Best dessert: Cake

It may seem impossible but it did happen — two major feel-good shows back to back. The opening band was none other than San Francisco’s Cake. This show was the perfect working person’s vacation haunt with singer John McCrea and his funky fishing hat and Vince Di Fiore’s colossal trumpet work.

Although feeling a bit under the weather, McCrea still lead things rather nicely with several tracks from Motorcade of Generosity including “Commanche” and “Mr. Mastodon Farm.” Several songs were from Cake’s latest Fashion Nugget including that nifty one about safety belts.

A crowd favorite for those who weren’t familiar with Cake’s likeness was their version of Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive.”

And surely after the crowd waited on pins and needles, Cake predictably played “The Distance” for the encore. After all the radio and MTV overkill, it still rocked.

SXSW was every music-minded person’s dream come true. The best thing about it is it will undoubtedly happen again next year.