Southpaw Jones

Ah, the first thing I heard walking into work today was a woman uttering the phrase “added byproduct.” I can’t believe she had the energy to use an unnecessary word so early in the morning, and I can’t believe I had the energy to notice it and grin all stupid and sly-like.

Energy is at a premium here at the end of Miracle Music Month 2008. Maggie and I shared four amazing concerts in March and April. We had unified interest in Willie Nelson and Bruce Springsteen, both living legends and wonderful performers, natch. Bookending those two shows, I asked her to be my date for They Might Be Giants, and she took me to see Feist last night.

To say that Feist was the worst of those four experiences is like saying that Sunday is my least favorite day of the weekend. She was great! She had a versatile band, a wonderful live voice, and a huge following of cute girls in their Spring best. Actually, it was like Easter for hipsters. Heaster, perhaps? Maggie was the cutest in her new green-yellow lim-on outfit.

There was an opener, but I forgot his name. I also forgot everything he sang, like, a split-second before he sang it. Is that even possible? This is not an insult. My disinterest merely means he has greater odds of fame and fortune and radio airplay down the line. Historically proven!

Feist came onstage with a manly band in white and two women in charge of live animation projected onto the bandshell. Imagine someone spreading miniatures, sand, cloth, and hands around on an overhead projector when the teacher leaves the junior high classroom, and you’ll have a good idea of what it looked like. It was excellent visual accompaniment, and so much cooler that they recreate it live each night.

“One, two, three, four” were about the only words I understood Feist sing. I recognized them instantly as the first integers of our universal number system. She was big on vowels, not so much on consonants. You might think this would annoy a word-obsessed singer-shlongwriter like me, but it didn’t. It sounded so pure and clean and European, I didn’t care. The weather was beautiful, and she pierced the Austin air like an shopping mall earring salesman one day before retirement.

Is Feist indie? I don’t even know anymore, but I do know that the whole nebulous movement there could use more rhythm, more quality melodies, more fun, and more class. She brings all that jazz into the current scene, and she even manages to make television commercials bearable. Kudos!

So ends a perfect storm of live music! Such a weeks-long epidemic of wonderfulness may never come our way again. I won’t say I’m ready to die now, but I could definitely take a nice long nap.

as reported in The New York Times

April 16, 1908
DESERTS MAN HATERS.
Mrs. Hoover Also Tells the Sanctified Sisterhood She Is Happy.
WASHINGTON — The discovery that a Philadelphia hotel clerk had invaded the Adamless Eden maintained here by the Sanctified Sisterhood threw the members of the man-hating society into consternation to-day.

One clue whose answer consists of two rhyming words:

Kids are always developing a wild new ways of making out! Have you heard of this new one where partners passionately kiss each other on the eye, drawing breath right there where tears come out? Have you tried it? Have you ever…

Highlight here for answer: [sucked duct]


Model Railroad Slums

By nature of me being the one singing it and writing it there is always an innate bit of autobiography there … but I think I learned years ago that you don’t get songs that have that long stride and that pivot-hinge ability if it’s too much diary entry.
Leslie Feist

EVERY DANG THURSDAY
with Matt the Electrician
8:00 PM
Flipnotics at the Triangle
4600 Guadalupe
AUSTIN, TX
(512) 380-0097
http://www.flipnotics.com
________________________________________________________________

SAUTRDAY, APRIL 19
8:00 PM
Opening for Will Kimbrough
Bend Studio
5014 McKinney Ave. 75205
DALLAS, TX
214.841.9642
www.bendstudio.com
$20, Doors at 7 pm.