I should have a series of packages waiting for me at home in the next week or two: I kind went on a music-buying binge, spurred mostly by having seen Andrew Bird and the Magnetic Fields Saturday night at Berklee.
Bird’s performance was stunning — just him onstage juggling a violin, electric guitar, and glockenspiel and deftly looping and mixing phrases, whistling, and singing. He came across as laconic and slightly wry, an ideal complement to the headliners. Check out his live set on WFMU, too.
To spare Stephin, who according to Claudia has been suffering from ear pain lately, the audience was entreated to substitute Beat-style finger snaps for applause. In the stunning acoustics of the concert hall, it sounded a Brazilian rainforest after each song. (We were allowed to clap loudly at the end, after Stephin had walked offstage).
I don’t even know how to describe how glorious they were — and I’ve been trying to for days. It was one of those chill-inducing shows that leaves you floatingly happy and makes the world seem eminently more tolerable. I didn’t even mind when it took many, many blocks of walking and failed attempts to find someplace that would serve us dinner after 11 p.m. (We finally made it to Kaya for sushi and such).
Also arriving in the mail, sooner rather than later I hope: new Pedro the Lion, new Bob Pollard, and the soundtrack for Dean Quixote.
Fingersnapping? Oh hell - that leaves me out: can’t do it. I must have some sort of bone/muscle irregularity - or fat fingers or something.
Fingersnapping? Oh hell - that leaves me out: can’t do it. I must have some sort of bone/muscle irregularity - or fat fingers or something.