A DJ in a Twix t-shirt (Twix is a big sponsor of The Comedy Festival this year) is mixing up some hip-hop outside the Palace Ballroom. Kids are dancing. It's cute.

I just grabbed a seat in the ballroom, where Laffapalooza is going to start soon. Someone is doing a good job warming up the crowd. They have a sweet theatre seating setup in here, because this is being taped. Going to sign off now -- check back later for more Comedy Festival nonsense.

Well, if last night at The Comedy Festival in Las Vegas proved anything, it's that A) Jerry Seinfeld is extremely overrated as a stand-up comedian, B) The Kids in the Hall have gotten old but not tired and C) it's really difficult to live-blog running from venue to venue or juggling phone calls and text messages while trying to snap a phone camera picture of George Wallace and Mark Curry.

If anyone was following my updates on Twitter, you may have caught exciting updates such as "parking at Mirage b/c Caesars parking garage was clusterf*ck after last year's Comedy Festival" or "Just saw George Wallace and Mark Curry talking in Caesars lobby. Curry is waaay tall." So basically, you missed nothing. And if you didn't see Jerry Seinfeld at Caesars' Colosseum last night, you also missed nothing. However, it wasn't the funny "nothing" that earned the comedian's eponymous television series such accolades. No -- this was just boring, forced, disconnected ranting that only occasionally drew smiles, let alone laughs.

Oh, sure, Seinfeld's audience seemed into it, but that seemed fueled by some blind devotion to the man, with shouts of "we love you Jerry!" being called out from all corners of the massive venue. Honestly, it was the opening act, Tom Papa, who really drew the most earnest yucks from both the crowd and this writer. Talking earnestly about the mundanities of marriage, pet ownership, fatherhood, diets and more, Papa was funny in that everyman sort of way that just worked.

By 9 p.m., with who knows how much longer left in Seinfeld's boring set, I wandered out of the Colosseum and toward the neverending escalators leading up to Caesars ballrooms to check out The Kids in the Hall. Yes, the much-loved Canadian sketch comedy troupe -- which has been touring frequently the last few years -- was making its debut live appearance in Las Vegas last night, and Dave Foley, Kevin McDonald, Bruce McCulloch, Mark McKinney and Scott Thompson were in fine form, if not alarmingly older than we'd expected.

The Kids brought out classic characters such as Chicken Lady, Buddy Cole and Mr. Tyzik the Headcrusher, and the audiences ate it all up like starving Ethiopian children. Oh wait, are starving children jokes out of vogue? Well, have you ever eaten at an Ethiopian restaurant? No wonder they're starving -- they're boycotting the food! Where was I? Oh yeah: The show was, however, plagued with technical and blocking goofs -- camera failure, missed lighting and sound cues, even goofed lines -- but during those moments the Kids were at their best, often breaking the fourth wall to hilarious effect. They just rolled with the punches and proved why their brand of often-irreverent sketch comedy made their self-titled TV show such a success in the late 1980s and early 1990s. And the double standing ovation from the crowd just reinforced that.

Tonight, I dive back into the depths of Caesars Palace to take on Laffapalooza, hosted by 30 Rock star Tracy Morgan, and featuring Mark Curry, Sheryl Underwood, Earthquake, Corey Holcomb and Lavell Crawford. I will be attempting more live reports, so stay tuned for tidbits on, you know, the status of complimentary snacks in the media room or the length of the bar lines outside the showrooms. Very compelling stuff.

Or so it seems based on the throngs of people queued not only to see but also to buy tickets for Jerry Seinfeld at the Colosseum inside Caesars Palace.

The entire Strip seems to be busier than you'd expect in these tough economic times -- across the Strip at Bally's, there was a line of people at the cashier cage. My theory? Well, confidence in stocks and bonds are at an all-time low -- so how could betting your life savings all on black be any less risky?

Well, kids, it's time to line up for the bar, which closes when Jerry hits the stage. Check back later for more live coverage of TBS Comedy Festival, direct from Awesome City.

Yesterday marked the start of the fourth annual Comedy Festival at Caesars Palace in Las Vegas. While we missed the opening night shows (which include Ellen DeGeneres' "Even Bigger Really Big Show") because, frankly, we were recovering from drinking way too late Wednesday night/Thursday morning with Dancing With the Stars finalist Lance Bass, we won't be slacking on coverage tonight. And you know what that means, right?

Live blogging.

Yep, just as we did with Seattle's Bumbershoot festival earlier this year, The Hype! Today will be dropping the most useless, up-to-the-minute coverage of The Comedy Festival's performers, attractions and, mostly, long queues for shows over the next two nights. It probably will be irreverent and almost fun, so be sure to stop back later.

Anathallo
Canopy Glow
(Anticon)

Upon receiving news of the forthcoming release of Canopy Glow, I eagerly requested a review copy, intrigued by the promise of a "fully developed album with music that showcases the group's energy and inspiration." But after receiving and listening to this sophomore release by Chicago-based ensemble Anathallo, I can't seem to find any of the aforementioned energy, and the only inspiration apparent seems to be a bottle of Valium.

To be fair, Canopy Glow should be aurally interesting. It's a complex, diverse and nuanced album. Take the song "Bells," which, as the name might lead you to believe, is based around a melody of ringing bells, interwoven with winding strings and multilayered vocal harmonies. But it just makes me sleepy – and that's not so terrible a fate, as there is something to be said for good napping music. I shouldn't be surprised; look at the cover – it's a boy passed out on the ground.

But, still, it's all just underwhelming. The highlights of the album aren't much of which to speak: some cool Beach Boys-like harmonies on "Noni's Glow" and a bridge on "Northern Lights" that owes a debt to Manfred Mann's "Blinded by the Light." Otherwise, the album is just quirky, but not fun. It's like Stars on Xanax.

Maybe the album should have been named after its sixth track, "Sleeping Torpor." That's a pretty accurate description of the state in which you'll find me if I listen to Canopy Glow for another minute.

MP3: "Northern Lights" by Anathallo
Buy: Canopy Glow at Amazon.com

The Western States Motel
Painted Birds Flying in the Orange Mirror Sun
(Firebird Field Recordings)

Talk about a fake-out misnomer: The words "Western," "States" and "Motel" looped into a band name might lead a newbie to guess that Painted Birds Flying in the Orange Mirror Sun would be an alt-country EP.

Note, however, if you are looking for old-style Wilco, Old 97's or the more Western-ish Richmond Fontaine (whose frontman Willy Vlautin has penned two awesomely devastating and rightly optioned novels, The Motel Life and Northline), the Western States Motel ain't it. Don't mistake a guitar slide for a pedal steel guitar.

But, if you are interested in blissed-out, sweetly pissed off music in a minor Laurel Canyon-ish psychedelic key à la Beachwood Sparks (sans said pedal steel guitar) mixed up with a jaunty take on SoCal slowcore masters the Radar Bros., then this five-song selection is ready for your next California desert/mountain drive. (Recommended for the stretch before Barstow, headed either way.)

When the Western States Motel's strings ring, there is a muted Beulah in the works. If the members of Radiohead collectively chilled out and got a tan, they'd probably play more songs such as those found on this EP.

The Western States Motel, the pay-by-the-night or weekly-rates-available brain child of Carl Jordan, is not all about the guitars, however. Throw in keyboards – they can sound like harpsichord Love excerpts. They can also get all robot-toned like NoCal's Grandaddy used to twist.

These are all good references for the job for which the Western States Motel is applying. But there's one secret influence I swear to God this band has in it – America's "Sister Golden Hair." That's okay though, because it's a song with no horse and it's on the edge of a Pacific Coast Highway cliff.

Guitar strums don't have to plod … and they can entail hidden danger, too.

Two weeks ago marked my sixth CMJ Music Marathon (Oct. 21 to 25). I went twice in the 1990s as music director of Las Vegas college radio station KUNV and four times as the owner of a music industry online marketing firm. My experiences have been vastly different each year, and near unrecognizable when I compare the ‘90s to more recent years. So for those of you considering going (or are wholly unfamiliar with it), I present to you:

The “So Over It” Music Biz Guide to CMJ

WARNING: I love my job, the music business is the greatest industry on the planet (maybe tied with porn), I’ve had a million great CMJ experiences, the people I’ve met that organize the conference are awesome, and I am at least 6 years away from being jaded. Having said that, this is going to come off super, super snarky. Ahh, the duality of man.

Ask anyone who has been going to the big music conferences for a while and you tend to hear the same things: “SXSW was way better in the ‘90s, before all the majors heard about it.” “CMJ used to be about the college radio community, now it’s about big artists and buzz bands.” “MIDEM? I can’t afford to go to Europe!” I can’t necessarily say that stuff (maybe the last one), but I can tell you that each year, I find most conferences less and less useful. This year proved no different for CMJ.

Maybe it’s because I own a moderately successful company, so I am mostly past the “learning” phase. It could be that I go to so many conferences that, at this point, I tend to hear the same thing repeatedly. Or it could be that I have seen so many bands over the years that I simply don’t find massive joy in waiting around for hours to hear the band that I’ve known about for months and have probably already seen three times.

Having said that, for those of you who have a better attitude than I do, here’s a blueprint for a successful CMJ:

First, you need to find out about all the parties and RSVP two weeks prior to the conference. Seriously. Not being on “the list” is the first step towards suicidal depression. Next, go to New York City, ideally the week of the conference. If you get there during the day, go record shopping before you’ve spent all your money on beer. There are plenty of free drinks to be had and people that will buy them for you anyway (well, if you’re a girl, or if you convince a band that you can get them on Pitchfork). Strategically plot how you are going to see the 10 bands per night you read about on the blog you pretend to hate. Realize that with Band A on at 10:45 p.m. in the Village and Band B on at 11:15 p.m. in Williamsburg, it’s going to be tight. Miss half the bands you want to see. See a bunch of other bands instead. If you’ve just seen your last band, look at your watch – if it isn’t after 3 a.m., you’re lame. Nobody goes to bed before 5 a.m. Find an after-party - you did RSVP for all of them, right?

If you can manage to wake up in time (and actually care), you can then head to panels to learn all about what bloggers were talking about last year, or what the majority of the industry should be talking about and hopefully will be by next year. If you’re smart, you’ll network like mad at these, as getting networking done at shows can be tough. Most of the panelists probably don’t want to meet you, but some are nice and actually do. I’ve been a panelist and I really enjoyed meeting conference goers, but some of my colleagues were in a mad dash for the exit.

Next, eat a good slab of NYC pizza. Maybe two, it’s going to be a long night. Don’t eat anything with garlic; you’re going to be in very close quarters. Also, stay away from beans.

The cycle begins again. Repeat last night’s shenanigans. Remember, finishing earlier than 3 a.m. = loser.

Once the conference has come to a close, fly (drive, walk, hitchhike) home, think back about your experience, and decide if you’re going again next year. Make sure to blog about all the bands you saw that your friends haven’t, each band on the list gives you +1 indie cred. If you really want to be cool, give away an MP3, but link to their site so maybe someone, somewhere will buy something from them.

And there you have it. You’ve CMJ’d with the best of them. It really is an amazing experience, especially if you are in college radio or under 21 and getting into all the good clubs (see Jason Feinberg 1995-1996). As much as I sound like a douchebag about it all, I really enjoy CMJ week. If nothing else, it’s five days in NYC with thousands of other people that love music as much as you do. That can’t be bad, not by a long shot.

Spotted at the red carpet screening of Repo! The Genetic Opera at Planet Hollywood Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas last night:

AWESOME: Skinny Puppy's Ogre choking out horror actor and musician Bill Moseley.

Less awesome: Good Charlotte's Benji Madden talking smack about someone in the ear of his girlfriend, Paris Hilton.

Totally un-awesome: Douchebag Lord Criss Angel and his Douchebag Queen, Holly Madison. And yes, Criss -- your show still sucks.

Hold your breath and get ready to dive in; it's time for another Hyper-Round:

Taking to the road starting with a gig on Nov. 21 at The Redwood Bar in Los Angeles, Golden Animals is bringing its blues-rock revival show to both U.S. coasts and a number of cities in the middle. Touring behind the debut album Free Your Mind And Win A Pony, the duo wraps things up just before Christmas in Portland on Dec. 22. Check out their website to get your dose of retro psychedelia that NME calls "An intense blend of scratchy Blues riffs, woozy psych and walloped drums."

Just in time for the holidays, The Almost drop a five-song EP on the world Nov. 25. Called No Gift to Bring, the Tooth & Nail release features one new song, "Awful Direction," as well as "re-imaginings" of two songs from the band's 2007 album Southern Weather and ... "Little Drummer Boy." Yep, because that's just what you were waiting for -- a Christmas song. And we're betting it's not as good as Bing Crosby and David Bowie's creepy version. If you'd like to get it with an autographed Christmas card from the band, well, here's your link.

Speaking of the holidays, Portland's XO Publicity has put together a compilation of holiday tunes recorded by a gaggle of rad artists they represent, including MasterSlashSlave doing "All I Want for Christmas," Blue Skies for Black Hearts on "Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)" and Play> covering "Happy Christmas/War Is Over." Download all the songs for free now. No, for real, we said FREE.

And on a final note looking forward, 2007 MySpace buzz queen Lily Allen returns on Feb. 10, 2009, with her second album, It's Not Me, It's You. The Capitol release will feature 12 tracks of Allen's funky, pop-friendly, singer-songwriter gems, written and recorded with Greg Kurstin of The Bird and the Bee. Look for Allen to hit U.S. roads for a spring tour.

MP3: "Happy Christmas/War is Over" by Play>

We wouldn't normally endorse Punchline's Jimmy Eat World-come-lately brand of pop-punk, but given the historic moment in which we're now living, well, here you go kids: