There was the Russian band that tried to defect in 1990, causing its host in Austin to plead with South by Southwest organizers to "please get these guys out of my house" after a week. There was the band from Germany called 17 Hippies whose number had swelled to 30 by the time they hit Austin. There was the Siberian trio, unable to speak a word of English, who were stranded at the airport a few years ago when their host suffered a heart attack just hours before they arrived. "Sometimes I want to break down and cry," says Marilyn Faust, coordinator for SXSW's international housing program, which offers foreign bands playing SXSW free lodging with locals. The task of synchronizing the schedules of dozens of bands and hosts, often impeded by a language barrier, can be a logistical nightmare. "But every year it's worth it," Faust says of the festival. "Knowing that you're helping musicians have an enjoyable stay in Austin is just so rewarding."

She recalls all the work it took to get the band Cold Blooded Animal from Beijing to Austin. Besides having to convince the Immigration and Naturalization Service that the band would be returning to China right after the 2001 conference, Faust had to find a host whose home was wheelchair accessible for the band's manager/translator. "It was our first band from mainland China, and I remember thinking, 'I hope I don't (mess) up and start an international incident.' " When the band members finally arrived at the Austin Convention Center and checked in, they were ecstatic. "They were sliding down the banister, they were so happy to be here," said Faust, who works as an accountant by day.

For every horror story of stranded bands and taxing miscommunication, there's one like this: Casis Elementary teacher Celeste Hackney and her roommate put up the Danish band Saybia in 2003 to get the free wristbands hosts receive. Hackney fell in love with the group's sound man Kevin Le Geyt, and the pair married six months later in Copenhagen.

And there's this doozy of a rock 'n' roll fantasy: At SXSW 2003, a band from London slept on inflated mattresses at the Clarksville home of computer engineer Mitch Gottlieb. In March 2004, that band, the Darkness, went gold in the United States, selling 500,000 copies of its debut album "Permission To Land."

"We were so broke," recalls Darkness drummer Ed Graham, "and Mitch kept the refrigerator full of beer. He had a big barbecue for us in his back yard. He took us to eat Mexican food and showed us the town."

A few months later, the Darkness reciprocated, inviting Gottlieb to come to Great Britain and go on tour with them.

Twenty-three foreign acts, with more than 100 members, were housed at more than 30 Austin homes and the French House co-op during last year's festival. Anyone interested in participating this year should e-mail Faust at housing@sxsw.com.

Faust is straight up with the bands when she sends details about the housing program. "Two guys are going to have to sleep together, so if you have some macho problem, either get over it or get a hotel room," reads part of the form e-mail.

The hosts aren't responsible for food or transportation, but most pick up the bands at the airport, feed them and cart them around town to music stores, thrift shops, barbecue joints and Western wear shops. Every international band that plays SXSW (and there will be a record-high 298 this year), seems to want to buy cowboy boots or Stetsons to mark its visit to Texas.

Locals such as Hyde Park neighbors David Dart and Curry Lemon say they look forward to sponsoring overseas bands each year. "It's fun to see Austin through the eyes of someone who's never even been to America in some cases," says Dart, a systems analyst at the University of Texas. In 2003 "Curry and I had a band from England called Coin-Op. She had half of them at her house and I had half of them at mine." Dart and Lemon designated one day as "Redneck Culture Day" and took the band out to a shooting range to fire pistols, then over to the Moose Lodge in East Austin for bingo. The night ended at the Crazy Lady strip club. "The (band) started off pretty wary about the whole excursion, but ended up having a blast," says Dart.

"When I tell friends that I let bands stay at my house during (SXSW) they always say, 'Aren't you afraid you'll get some punk band that'll trash the place?' But every act I've had has been so appreciative, so polite."

Lyle Zurik, who's opened his home to international SXSW bands since '91, says he's learned to feel out the bands before putting together an itinerary. "I once had this band, the Revs, some teenaged kids from Ireland, and I took them out for Mexican food and they wouldn't eat it. They said they just ate hamburgers and pizzas."

A group from Iceland, meanwhile, wanted to eat at Taco Bell every meal. "There weren't any Taco Bells in Iceland, but they'd seen the TV commercials and they were obsessed," says Zurik. "I told 'em I'd take them to have some real Mexican food and they said 'Taco Bell!' "

Some foreign musicians like to be taken out in the wide open spaces. Others want to hang out downtown. Some want to learn how to two-step. Some want to try crack cocaine (as a Hungarian musician told Zurik a few years back). Some hosts prepare feasts for the bands; others give them a bus schedule and leave a key under the mat.

Although the bands are sometimes stars in their home country, they are almost always unknown in the United States. Some bands just don't get it. "One year a band had sent emmissaries to check out the house ahead of time, to make sure the mattresses were firm enough and the place was clean, that sort of stuff," says Faust. "The host family was hurt. The manager was saying, 'Do you know who this band is? They're big stars,' and so I said, 'Then they can afford to stay in a hotel.' "

Zurik had a similar experience with Irish band the Saw Doctors a few years ago. "The manager was quizzing me about the accommodations, and then he finally said, 'That's not going to work out for them,' and they didn't show up the first day. The next morning my girlfriend came in and said, 'There's some guy sleeping on the couch.' Back in the guest room, there were guys sprawled out everywhere." The band members had let themselves in at 3 a.m. "I was thinking about what the manager said, and I thought, 'Well, these guys aren't above crashing out wherever.' "

Dart says that hosting SXSW bands is not for everyone. "If you're the kind of person who needs their space, this isn't for you," he says. "You won't have a bit of privacy." Some acts stay as long as a week, though three days is the average, Faust says.

Cindy Hill, who has hosted since 2000, says she has started asking for all-male bands after once putting up a female singer who hogged the lone bathroom. "There's only so much mirror time in a day," she says.

As SXSW has become much more international in scope in recent years, many overseas acts receive some sort of underwriting from their country's government arts programs to attend. The Australian Trade Commission, for instance, set aside $30,000 to send more than 20 acts to SXSW from Down Under last year. The New Zealand government gave a stipend of $1,500 to every musician from that country that was accepted at SXSW. About 90 percent of the overseas bands stay in hotels.

Some foreign acts are on their own dime, however, and the free housing option can tip the decision of whether or not to cross an ocean to play a 40-minute set. "A five-piece band, in town three days, could save anywhere from $800 to $1,000 in hotel bills," says Craig Stewart of SXSW, which has more than doubled the number of international acts since 2000.

Another benefit is that bands who stay with locals often have their own fan club at the showcase. "Curry and I must've dragged 15-20 people to the show, which was good because there wasn't much of a crowd otherwise," Dart says of Coin-Op's 8 p.m. 2003 show.

Hill says she has learned to take off from her job as an assistant project manager for a land developer when she's sponsoring a band. "I had Oceansize, from Britain, my first year," she says. "They played an incredible set — the crowd loved them — and they were so stoked we stayed up all night talking and drinking beer." The next morning, Hill had to drag herself into work.

"The only downside of the whole experience was trying to keep up with those guys drinking," Gottlieb says of the Darkness. "There's no way anybody can outdrink a British rock band. I found out the hard way."

The Darkness drummer Graham, meanwhile, keeps a souvenir from 2003's SXSW — a Frisbee. "Mitch took us to play Frisbee golf. What a strange game," Graham says. This from a man who lives in the land of cricket.

As for that Hungarian who wanted to find crack: He succeeded one night in an alley behind a Sixth Street club. "I told a couple of the other (band members), 'Man, we gotta get him away from those crackheads,' " Zurik recalls. "So we put together this plan. They went over and distracted him and as I drove by in the alley, they picked him up and threw him in the car and we peeled out."

Being a good host sometimes goes beyond providing fresh towels and a place to crash.

Originally published March 17, 2004, with updates Feb. 22, 2005

mcorcoran@statesman.com; 445-3652