Well, I haven't felt this good in a long time. My stomach is a little growly right now, but other than that things seem to be running pretty smoothly. And speaking of which, I'm brewing my fun little tea right now.
I just got back from seeing Josh Rouse at the Parish. I had heard him on Pandora and remembered writing his name down on countless scraps of you-should-look-into-this paper (the ones that get buried in the purse or under other stacks of you-should-look-into-this papers). Anyway, he ended up not looking anything like what I'd pictured. I'm amused that this can still happen to me, considering there's the interweb and all...
Anyway, aside from my initial shock of the relative lack of hipness on stage*, it was a good show. The band was super tight, especially the drummer (who could sing AND whistle and play a mean shaker), and Josh Rouse has a great poppy sort of Marshall Crenshaw thing going. The whole thing was a little bit slick for my taste, though (dare I say the drummer was a teeny bit jazzy for the first half), but the songs were excellent and one can't really complain about a great sounding band and great sounding sound... unless, of course, one likes a little grit... which I do.... a lot of grit actually. In fact, I could have done with quite a bit more grit. And some better stage antics. Granted, the last show I saw was The Flaming Lips last week in San Antonio, so I'm currently still spoiled in the stage presence category. Nonetheless, I just might buy a Josh Rouse album- the one with Quiet Town on it. Great song.
Anyway, I think bands should video tape themselves just like tennis players do. Nothing makes me want to vomit more than watching myself on stage. It's just not fun to watch a bunch of people just stand there and play songs. I know this. I do this. I've watched the tapes. It's boring as hell. Alas.
Time for bed.
*Bryan and I had a similar experience when we went to see Simon Dawes, another band discovered on Pandora, during SXSW last year. And, if I remember correctly, both Josh Rouse and the singer from Simon Dawes wore ugly gray vests. Come to think of it, both also shared a distinctly Paul Simon-esqueness about them, being shorter than I expected and having similar voices and so forth. And I complain about superficialness in the music world.
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- Milkmaid and her pail
- From Aesop: A farmer's daughter had been out to milk the cows, and was returning to the dairy carrying her pail of milk upon her head. As she walked along, she fell amusing after this fashion: "The milk in this pail will provide me with cream, which I will make into butter and take to market to sell. With the money I will buy a number of eggs, and these, when hatched, will produce chickens, and by and by I shall have quite a large poultry-yard. Then I shall sell some of my fowls, and with the money which they will bring in I will buy myself a new gown, which I shall wear when I go to the fair; and all the young fellows will admire it, and come and make love to me, but I shall toss my head and have nothing to say to them." Forgetting all about the pail, and suiting the action to the word, she tossed her head. Down went the pail, all the milk was spilled, and all her fine castles in the air vanished in a moment! (Do not count your chickens before they are hatched.)
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