Friday, May 03, 2002

... yeah, like it was even a decision.
first i found out i got my intership. which means i have two jobs for the summer, either of which by itself would be worthy of cheering. but both! my lord --
then, the concert. katie and andrea switched gears and we all bussed over, marveling at the room as we entered, slightly bigger than the 9:30 club in d.c., loosely filled with more lovely lesbians than i've seen in one place since Mothertongue. couples everywhere, hands lingering in short hair; beer, cigarettes; everyone smiling; not a single bare midriff or pair of high heels to be found. but men too (this is why europe is cooler than america): men with women, men with men. and some people whose gender you can't tell by looking which fills me with joy. we take places in the second row, slightly to the right of the microphones.

first three people come onstage as though straight out of a soap opera. petite, earnest-faced blonde woman, dressed in black; a man like those seen on the prows of ships, bulging and protruding every which way yet curved incongruously over a delicate electric violin (you don't get muscles like that playing the violin!); and a third, darker, smaller man in back on the keyboard. charming scottish accents, ballads crooned. rocky switches his violin for an equally fragile instrument and we continue to watch him with astonishment. a diamond twinkles on the lady's left hand.

twenty minutes after they leave, just when andrea announces, "i'm bored!," they come on. i've never seen them live but i recognize them from pictures: emily, full and blonde, pleasant-faced sharp-eyed; amy, hunched, mousy hair, eyes lost since squinted away. each holds one guitar. it's a sign: it's a back-to-basics kind of night. which means:
least complicated/ power of two/ three hits/ land of canaan/ galileo/ closer to fine/ go go go/ shame on you/ mystery/ chickenman/ cold beer and remote control
not in that order, of course; and others i'm sure i'm forgetting; and interspersed with old-skool sounding songs from their latest album. nostalgia stands behind me the entire time, poking me in the ribs, especially during mystery. by the end i'm bruised and dazed, and we troop out, though my voice refuses to come with me and remains shiny-eyed and sighing where i flung it on the stage.

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