Pitchfork

The Ting Tings [Stubb's; 8:00 p.m.]

The Ting Tings have one great song: "That's Not My Name". It's a sassy little kiss-off that rides a bump n grind beat to an ecstatic finale, with singer/guitarist Katie White shouting the title over a chorus of multi-tracked Katies.

The British duo closed their set with "That's Not My Name", crushing everything they played before it. But hey, one great song is a lot more than most buzz bands plying their wares at SXSW can boast, right? The Ting Tings also have charisma and a grasp of rhythm and heft that's sorely lacking in most of their NME-boosted peers, which makes me think they might stick around. They just need to come up with a few more great songs.

Santogold [Stubb's; 9:00 p.m.]

Yet another artist riding a tsunami of hype to a prime SXSW slot, Santogold seems to be everybody's Next Big Thing pick, including the people at Downtown Recordings, who will issue her album this summer. The incessant hype has left a bad taste in my mouth, but I like Santogold's two songs (the rumbling "Creator" and "L.E.S. Artistes", which totally rips Madonna's "Die Another Day", amirite?), so I thought I'd give her a chance and check out her live show.

Well, consider me an official member of Team Santogold as of 9:30 p.m. last night.

First of all, this girl can sing. Really sing. Second of all, she has songs. Real songs, with hooks and choruses and twitchy, polyglot beats (some courtesy of Diplo, who acted as her DJ during the brief, 20-minute set). Third of all, she has backup singer/dancers who mostly stand there looking fierce, but every now and then bust out the choreography. Fourth of all, she has a crazy cute smile.

I've heard Santogold dismissed as an MIA clone due to the two women's penchant for culture- and genre-hopping, as well as their shared collaborators (Diplo, Switch). But you know what? I'm GLAD there are two musically omnivorous, defiantly individualistic women out there with strong, colorful personalities and fascinating backstories. In fact, I wish there were more! It's not like only one retro garage rock band is allowed to be popular at a time, or there aren't a hundred shoegazer outfits all vying for the same accolades. If we're OK with salivating over both Jay Reatard and King Khan, or My Morning Jacket and Band of Horses and Fleet Foxes, then we should be OK with giving our love to both MIA and Santogold.

Biz3 showcase [Emo's; 10:30 p.m.]

SXSW is full of wacky promotional ideas, from bands dressing up like robots/cowboys/cheerleaders to hand out fliers on Sixth Street to corporations plastering their names all over every inch of space (my hotel room key is sponsored by Island Records).

But far and away my favorite promotional idea of SXSW so far was the Kid Sister Pro Nails salon at the Biz3 showcase at Emo's. In the merch booth in a corner of the main space, a trio of manicurists painted patrons' nails for free, helping us all look just a little bit more fabulous.

I got mine done up bright red while watching Does It Offend You, Yeah? play. This, my friends, is the life.

That up there is a photo of Graham Walsh of Holy Fuck getting his nails did.

Mika Miko [Emo's IV; 12:00 a.m.]

Paul Thompson covered Mika Miko's extremely brief 8 p.m. set at the Lovepump showcase, and while their midnight set at the Kill Rock Stars showcase was short, at 30 minutes it was quite a bit longer than the earlier one.

Mika Miko are the sexiest band I've seen so far at SXSW, so effortlessly cool and confident and just plain down and dirty ROCKING. The pristine confines of Emo's IV made for an odd location to watch their grimy scuzz-punk in action, but the amped up crowd pogoed like we were all in some rat-infested basement.

I wish more bands like Mika Miko existed-- fearless girl gangs fucking shit up whenever they hit the stage. You know, bringing us back to the glory days of L7, Babes in Toyland, and 7 Year Bitch. Can we make that happen please?

Robyn [Pangea; 1:00 a.m.]

Pangea is a douchebag dance club infamous for its bottle service policy. Outside, there's a line of women in micro-minis and heels, accompanied by dudes wearing too much hair gel, waiting to get in. When I go to the bathroom, the girl behind me is startled by her reflection in the mirror. "Omigod!" she squeals to her friend. "I totally thought somebody just came up right behind me!"

When we arrive, the Vines-- who apparently are still a band-- are covering Outkast's "Ms. Jackson".

This, I say, is what hell is like.

A half hour later, Robyn is on stage, doing a medley of Snoop's "Sexual Eruption" and Salt-N-Pepa's "Push It". She's accompanied by two drummers and a keyboardist, and she's mugging it up like she's the biggest pop star in the world (which she totally should be). Everybody is going absolutely crazy.

This is what heaven is like.

That's the power of Robyn-- she literally lights up the room with her presence. "There are so many of you, and so much of me," she stated near the end of her set.

I don't think I could have picked a better set list. "Be Mine!", "Handle Me", "Who's That Girl", "Konichiwa Bitches", "With Every Heartbeat", "Cobrastyle", a version of "Show Me Love" accompanied only by drum pad beats that sounded just like the Knife's OneMusic version of "Heartbeats", a cover of Prince's "Jack U Off".

I am totally gay for Robyn right now.

These young men in the audience also seemed to be enjoying Robyn's performance a great deal: