I am a self-proclaimed foodie. Love watching Bourdain, Top Chef, Jamie Oliver, and Alton Brown, and I savor great dining experiences much like I do gigs and festivals. One reason I keep coming back to Bonnaroo year after year is the BBQ at Prater's in nearby Morrison, Tenn., just a stone's throw from the festival site.

You won't recognize him at first, especially if, like me, your best Beck memories involve him on his knees, belting out Midnite Vultures' "Debra" like it's hipster karaoke night and he's drawn a James Brown tune.

We're usually stoked to see Billie Joe Armstrong, a perennial Spin fave, gracing the pages of the New York Times. After all, his Green Day side project, Foxboro Hot Tubs, is tearing up the Southwest right now.

On a long subway ride home last night from JFK Airport, I cued up one of my perennial faves for mass transit listening: the podcast of This American Life, the long-running NPR program hosted by Ira Glass (now in its second season as a television series on Showtime).

Jemaine Clement and Bret McKenzie, the clever New Zealanders known as Flight of the Conchords, were owning a rambunctious crowd at NYC's Town Hall, running through a cheeky version of their song "Robots," in which the duo sing from the perspective of two robots who've recently eliminated the human race by using "poisonous gases" to "poison their asses." As the song concluded and the audience (w

There may be people who only attended the third session of the 2008 Coachella Valley Music & Arts Festival, but as a wise man once observed about his questionably unclothed behavior on a famed bathroom floor, "It Wasn't Me." So the remains of Days 1 and 2 -- The French Fry Diet, crap sleep, SPF 45 caked on like Steven Tyler's mascara, temperatures reportedly reaching a singeing 112 degrees, fee

In a better universe, Prince would've been the original alternative rocker. Able to play virtually any instrument in virtually any style -- funk, soul, R&B, gospel, pop, rock, folk, psych, new-wave -- he was a multiracial, pansexual, politically minded, sacredly profane fashion freakazoid who posed in the shower wearing a trench coat and a "Rude Boy" button.

Here are two skewed views of the Coachella Valley Music & Arts Festival, which opened its three-session 2008 cavalcade at Empire Polo Field in Indio, California Friday (just minutes away from where the late Merv Griffin once held court as the cardiganed billionaire pasha of this desert resort-village refuge, as the sultan of streets named after legendary golfers -- Nicklaus, Palmer, even We

DOUG BROD, EDITOR, SPIN
Best Set: My Morning Jacket at Austin Music Hall
Best Discovery: (Tie) Joe Lean and the Jing Jang Jong, the Heavy, and the Last Vegas (not officially part of SXSW, though)
Biggest Disappointment: Joe Lean and the Jing Jang Jong walked off after two songs.

There's nothing quite like the sheer hell of the Austin airport on the Sunday morning after South by Southwest. Tousle-headed, sunburned-but-still-oddly-pale cred cops who, three short hours ago, worried only about how to see the Ting Tings play the Dell Computers and Vitamin Water Presents Corporatemusicsucks.com after-afterparty in some creatively converted warehouse, now slowly re-enter a world in which Garnier Fructis gifting-suite sculpting gel is not allowed in one's carry-on.