Second Thoughts

Max and I went to The Knitting Factory last night to see Feist, as apart of the CMJ festival. The first band that we saw play was called "Flipsyde", and I have been struggling to remember a time when I saw a worse band. They are, nevertheless, signed to Interscope. Comprised of an average DJ, a barely servicable rapper, a beefy crew cut guy who couldn't play guitar, and a guy who looked like Santana (and served the same purpose: mostly predictable lead guitar coming over the track and the most predictable times. Imagine "Smooth" all over again, but no talent). But the lyrics, you say, they must have saved it! The first song was called Flipsyde (a caveat: when a band mispells their own name on purpose, you can be fairly sure that such uninspired "cleverness" is going to be the extent of their innovation--see Puddle of Mudd, Staind, etc.), and was mostly pointless. Then the crew cut guy sang something called "Patroit" very earnestly, and kept poorly strumming the same boring chords. The next song was called "God Bless America" sung without a hint of irony, so we went back into the lobby to get another drink.

Next up was "The Lovemakers", who were better but not great. Your typical 80s ripoff drenched in dramatic sexualized energy, i.e. the two lead singers began making out onstage while playing a song, which was riveting but mostly gross. They felt like suburban kids who put on makeup and tried out S & M, and the girl singing kept dragging herself around the stage and making contorted faces and generally acting like she was in a constant state of orgasm. It became banal rather quickly. Also, Ty had something good to say about The Lovemakers' on-stage PDA:
"I mean, come on, The Strokes don't get up their and stroke themselves; The Killers don't live up to their name; The Walkmen; The Bravery; no one actually tries to do just what their name says...Bastards."

Everthing changed when Feist came on. The air was different. She was all mystery and suggestion, the opposite of the act before. She has bangs that start way back on her head and fall at the perfect length in front of her eyes, which are big and brown. She was clever and gently self-effacing, and used big words, and sang whimsical Parisian-sounding jazzy rock, and had a red eyemask around her neck like a pair of spectacles.

We were also privileged to hear a brand new Broken Social Scene song that she played, even though she wasn't "supposed to". She sang on their last record. I recommend picking up her release Let it Die. The first half are original songs, and the last half demonstrate an impeccable taste in covers. It's very well put together, a great album to put on in the afternoon as the sun is bronzing the sides of buildings or setting fire to the tops of trees, whatever the case may be where you happen to live. More to come of the CMJ festival.