Last night was my first time at Logan Square Auditorium and I found its school dance vibe very charming. Actually, a romantic TV version of a school dance is a more apt description — my school's auditorium had the standard thick red drapes on the windows, but it definitely did not have Baker-Miller pink walls and gorgeous circles of ornate molding surrounded by tiny bulbs. Oh, and there was definitely never any beer for sale at the dance.
Findlay Brown is a British musician clearly enamored of 1950s American rock and roll; he mentioned Roy Orbison between songs and his mildly tousled pompadourish hair and immaculately tailored red plaid blazer gave him a sort of Elvis-meets-young Morrissey look. Due to a ticketing misprint a segment of the attendees arrived at 8, an hour and a half before the show was scheduled to start. Brown made three more than slightly miffed-sounding jokes alluding to the fact that they played a set for the sparse earlier crowd at 8. One of the folks who had shown up early told me that they had given a nearly identical performance the first time, down to jumping into the audience for a seemingly impromptu cover of "Mystery Train" at the end. He and his band sounded rehearsed into flawless perfection, almost so airtight it didn't allow for spontaneous sparks. But then, Brown and company WERE forced to play twice so perhaps the slightly mechanical feel was a forgivable fluke.
You know what I hate? When a horror movie is reviewed by a critic who clearly has no love for the genre. If you don't know your Raimi from your Romero I'm not sure you have anything valuable to share in a public forum. Similarly, since their fans clearly hear something different than I do I'll offer just a few reactions to Au Revoir Simone last night: Their stage banter reminded me of a slightly drier version of the NPR ladies on SNL, I bet when those women fart it smells like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and sunshine, and I like Heather D'Angelo's voice. The one song that got a rise out of me was "Knight of Wands" from the recent Still Night, Still Light, but maybe I was the only audience member who found the whole thing as exciting as a butter sandwich. What do I know?