Well, Houston's gradual transformation into Death Valley seemed to work in the Wild Moccasins' favor; although somewhat sparse this early in the day, the crowd nonetheless crowded forward, pressed up against the barriers in front of the stage.

Sure, it probably had something to do with the Moccasins' infectious, bouncy indie rock, but the crowd's need to be in such drastically close proximity probably also had something to do with the shade provided by the stage. The sun is at a slight angle in the sky above the C&D Scrap Metal stage, casting a shadow over the first three or four rows in the audience, and damned if those rows weren't chock full of people.

Enjoying the show, yes. And also enjoying the shade.

The quest for shade continues today, as it looks to be even hotter and dustier than yesterday. Ice cold drinks are plentiful, however, and you can refill your water bottles at the refill station, so it's not really a crisis. Plus today's roster is mighty strong.

Little Joe Washington is currently wailing away on the main stage, and the crowd is getting into it. There's still plenty of room, though, so get your asses down here to the superblock and come party with us. Despite the heat, we're all still having a hell of a lot of fun. JOHN SEABORN GRAY

Waking up to old-school country music? Yes, please. Personally, I'm not much of a fan of country, but this old-school, steel-guitar-heavy, bonafide country stuff ain't bad, and it was a friendly reminder to everyone in attendance that we are still in the South (and no, that's not a bad thing).

Ryan Scroggins & the Trenchdown Texans then kept the small crowd going, getting even the youngest of fans to sing along - we saw one boy, who couldn't have been more than 12, belting his heart out as Scroggins and crew rocked the stage.

After Scroggins, it was time for the Wild Moccasins and, as per usual, everyone was swept up in the band's poppy tunes, aided oh so well by Zahira Gutierrez's beautiful voice.

Then it was time for Little Joe Washington, and I'm guessing that few in attendance had any idea what they were in for. His crowd may have been a little small, but it didn't stop him from being his usual, quirky self. He playfully bantered with his band, blaming his mistakes on them as he tore up his guitar in a way that made may wish they had been born in another decade, when live performances were more about stage presence, the sound of the guitar and having as much fun onstage as possible.

Little Joe does all things all too well, and he even rubbed his guitar's chords against his crotch at one point to the cheers of the audience. As the scratches sounded, the crowd cheered, Joe played a few (off) keys then walked offstage as the rest of his band closed the set with plenty of horns, bass, heavy guitar and enough percussion to make your ears bleed.

In a good way, of course. MATTHEW KEEVER