The McGarrigle Christmas Hour(s)

I suppose it's a mistake to try and force the Christmas spirit, because about half way through this concert Wednesday night I was wishing that I'd just gone home after my office Christmas party and sat down with a book and a cup of tea. Which is such a nice feeling after one has spent money on tickets, no?

I do think, though, that the problem wasn't all me. The ramshackle, disorganized nature of the evening would play better in a venue more modest than Carnegie Hall. It feels like it should be taking place in someone's living room or a community hall, but it's impossible to make Carnegie Hall feel like anything other than a huge concert hall and moments get lost. Particularly when you're up in the cheap seats squinting just to figure out who's who. More problematic was the uneven nature of the material. I mean, was it really necessary to make us all suffer through Rufus Wainwright's (awful) Christmas is For Kids? And the Vincent Dow spoken word piece, which was also on the CD that came out a few years ago, wasn't particularly worthwhile the first time I heard it, much less now. A little editing would probably come in handy.

Still, there was a lot to recommend about the show: Laurie Anderson's spoken word; Martha Wainwright's contributions, particularly the French carol; Jimmy Fallon's imitations of Neil Young, Bruce Springsteen, and David Bowie; Rufus's mic-free rendition of "O Holy Night"; and so on. So it's a shame that I spent most of it wishing I were somewhere else as the hours dragged on. Lesson learned, I suppose. 

Martha Wainwright at Highline Ballroom

When I first listened to Wainwright's new record I was underwhelmed but wanted to hear her performing the songs live. And as is so often the case with her, they did work better when she was performing them right there in front of you. And I was tickled by the fact that acknowledged of the "overly flowery" nature of many of her lyrics (it's true, they are). Her voice is rawer and more interesting live and she takes more risks with the songs. She also has a likable stage presence--kind of Rufus minus the egomania if such a thing is possible. Despite being a bit hoarse last night it was an enjoyable concert and I particularly enjoyed her singing Stormy Weather and then performing one of my very favorite of her songs, Don't Forget, with Rufus and their mother Kate McGarrigle. Now if only I wasn't always getting stuck standing behind tall people.

Opening for Martha last night was Justin Bond, who I've only seen performing as Kiki from Kiki and Herb, not as himself. He's thoroughly entertaining both ways, so that was fun.

Despite doing a fair bit of whining about having to go all the way across town on a hot, rainy night it was a really a nice time and totally worth it.

And I was hoping things would get a bit calmer...

Wendy and I spent most of Friday and Saturday cleaning and bleaching the hell out of our apartment. The kitchen, living room, and halls are about as clean as they've every been. Clothing? Washed. Sheets? Washed. Towels? Washed. And so on and so forth. One of the other big projects was clearing out a lot of my room. Because that's the place where we need to isolate Pyramus, it needs a daily bleaching. We figured the only way that would really be doable was if we got all the surfaces super clear. So I took all the books off the bookshelf, and the table behind my bed, and the dresser. We moved the bookshelf out to the living room and, after bleaching the shelf and vacuuming all the books, returned them to their places, stacking all the extras on top. Then everything else found a temporary home, either in my now stuffed drawers or in the rest of the apartment.

Today was then dedicated to vacuuming and rolling my carpet and then doing the same bleach job we'd done everywhere else in my room. It's now looking rather bare, sad, and colorless. Well, the walls are still colorful, of course, but my multi-hued quilt is packed away and my bright yellow chair all covered so it's far more dull and cheerless than it normally is.

So as you can see the last few days have just been a blast. Also exhausting. We have taken time to do some fun stuff though.

On Friday Wendy and I met up with a friend and her family and, after buying a picnic dinner at whole foods, went to the Prospect Park Bandshell to see the Metropolis Ensemble and Deerhoof. I enjoyed the ensemble's remix of Rite of Spring--although not as much as the regular orchestral version--but didn't like the other piece they did. Deerhoof was kind of hit or miss for me. What was really nice though was just sitting outside in the park on a blanket with people I enjoy. I'd never been to the Bandshell before and was a little worried that it would be like Central Park SummerStage, but it was much nicer.

Then yesterday, there was a birthday party on Long Island. I was so exhausted from cleaning that I wasn't really looking forward to the trip out there but unsurprisingly it turned out to be a nice break and the party was fun. Among other things I got to spend time with a friend who is moving back to Buffalo shortly. And we got gift bags with various fun stuff like this, which I think is too funny:

And since the last picture of Pyramus was so utterly pathetic, here's one from today of him sitting in my lap and looking far less miserable.
His next bath is going to be on Tuesday and this time we'll be better prepared. By which I mean I'm going to have alcohol on hand.

Rufus Wainwright at Radio City

So I wasn't actually planning to go to this concert--I was wishy-washy because I was a little cranky his most recent record --but a rather lovely woman on a forum I frequent messaged me last week to see if I wanted to join her (with an extra ticket to sell to my roommate as well) and I couldn't resist. However I feel about some of his songs, Rufus always puts on a great show and has an appealing stage presence. Combine that with the prospect of going with someone I'd talked to frequently online but never actually met and it sounded like a lot more fun then anything else I was going to be doing. And it was. Fair warning: this isn't an organized or insightful review. I'm sick and cranky today.

The opening act was Sean Lennon whose music sounds pleasant enough to the ear in a thoroughly unmemorable and uninteresting way. Of course, I think if I were John Lennon's son I'd just become a banker or something. Beyond that, is it me or is he always dating models with whom he is totally in love and writing songs?

Anyway, there was a break and then Rufus came on with "Release the Stars" in what is one of the ugliest suits I have ever seen. I mean, just really hideous. It was neon green and black and he'd covered it with brooches, of course. I think when the lederhosen is the better look that's probably fairly telling.

Anyway, after "Release the Stars" he played "Going to a Town" and explained his black-and-white flag backdrop. It was fairly inane and cliche so I feel no reason to repeat it here. Later on in the set he talked a bit about his new project to help the environment, BLACKOUTSABBATH. It is what it is, and while I tend to think that if you need to write a list of ways to help the environment and stick it on your fridge you're not all that likely to follow through, but hey, I'd be happy to be wrong. When he wasn't trying to be serious his banter was amusing as always; it's one of the things that makes going to his concerts so much fun.

As for the songs, I was glad that he played a lot of old songs, songs from the Judy Garland show, etc. Most of the songs he played from Release the Stars were tolerable, and the lack of over-the-top orchestrations live didn't hurt. I still think that "I'm Not Ready to Love" is a spectacularly bad song. "Slideshow" came complete with pyrotechnics which was funny--in a good way--because there he is in lederhosen playing a song that isn't really all that rocking and there are sparklers going off like it's a real rock show.

While the show as a whole was excellent, the end definitely outstripped the beginning.

One of the highlights, as it often is in New York, was getting to see him play with his sister and it came with the not-as-common treat of getting to see his mother perform as well. I was pretty much expecting Martha to be there since she's not touring right now and when they're both in the city it seems more common than not that they show up at each other's shows. Martha was wearing a dress that was more like a blousy shirt, but if I had her legs I might wear that sort of dress as well. Kate was wearing skinny jeans tucked into boots and looked very healthy, which was a relieving change after the last time I saw her sing (2006 Carnegie Hall Christmas show). After performing backups on "Across the Universe" along with Lennon, they sang one of my very favorite Kate & Anna McGarrigle songs, "(Talk to me of) Mendocino." It appears on their fantastic first album from the 70s, and then Kate, Rufus and Martha recorded a version together for The McGarrigle Hour, which is an absolutely lovely CD.

Mendocino

As a sidenote, I drove through Mendocino a few years ago and it's a really lovely spot on the California coast and the nearby Mendocino Botanical Garden is well worth stopping at if you're in the area.

After Mendocino, we got "Poses," which is still the best song he's ever written. He then did that thing he's been doing on tour where he dresses up as Judy Garland to sing "Get Happy" this time with his dancing band members dressed up as nuns. Jeff Hill has been playing bass in Rufus's band since, what, 1998 at least so he must be pretty used to be doing these absurd but audience-delighting things at this point. It's probably fun anyway. He finished off the concert with "Gay Messiah," and his band silly-stringing him at the line "baptized in cum." Which, you know, it's not my favorite Rufus song and I don't necessarily think it stands up to repeat listens, but it's a good way to finish off a show.

So in the end, I'm really glad that I had the opportunity to go. It was a fun night with good company and good entertainment. Which is all you can ask for, really, is it not?

Sweet Honey in the Rock

You know those colds that just hit you suddenly--one second you're fine and the next you feel like absolute shit? Yeah . . . I have one of those. I was fine until about 3 o'clock today and then BAM! So more than anything I wanted to go home and crawl into bed. Wasn't possible though because I had to meet my grandmother for dinner and a show.

Yesterday, when I was feeling fine, I'd chosen a Chinese food place. About the last kind of food I want when I'm sick. So it's fortunate that the place turned out to be quite good. The food was arguably a bit on the bland side but I'm pretty much the queen of bland food so that's fine with me. Anyway, what I liked was that the food was not greasy or oily. And the asparagus I had with my meal actually had some crunch to it still. Very nice.

Anyway, we were going to see Sweet Honey in the Rock at Carnegie Hall. If you're not familiar with them, and I certainly wasn't, they're an African American female a cappella group. They basically sing spirituals, hymns, gospel, jazz, and blues. I'm sure I've mentioned before that I'm not in any way religious. And my tolerance for most religious things is . . . limited, let's say. My tolerance for religious music like gospels, hymns, and spirituals on the other hand, is nigh endless. So that stuff was fine.

Less fine was the mother earth, light in the soul, just being good and kind to each other will bring about world peace stuff. I don't do well with that sort of tripe at all, particularly when I've got a sinus headache and my nose is running like a faucet. Still, the music was very lovely, they're incredibly talented women, and it was a nice evening out.

Andrew Bird

Wendy and I went to see Andrew Bird at Webster Hall on Thursday. This was all part of my not terribly elaborate plan to turn Wendy into a fan. The plan basically consisted of having her come to the concert with me and hoping she liked him, while simultaneously refraining from making comments like, "his last name is Bird and you like birds so you should like him." This plan was nearly sidelined by the fact that Wendy is sick. I'm finally feeling pretty good after spending the last couple weeks feeling icky but whatever I had, I clearly passed it on. And on Thurday and Friday she was in that oh-my-god-I-want-to-die phase of this particular illness, telling people I'd given her the plague. But she came anyway and had a very nice time. We sat on the couches at the back and she was glad she hauled herself out of bed.

Anyway, Bird was great which was no surprise. He always comes off as just a genuinely nice person. And despite the fact that his music is riddled with postmodern anxiety and all that implies, with the looped sounds, the at times fraught lyrics, etc. I find his music strangely comforting. I think it's that he's using technology to create music in a way that's really very organic. The constant changing and evolution of the songs, the fact that he can do that when working with a band, the complexity of it all, makes me feel quite peaceful even when the subject matter isn't.

And I can't say enough about his cover of Oh, Sister so I just won't say much about it all except that it's painfully beautiful.

A couple dark, but good sounding videos that someone put up on YouTube from the show Thursday:

Peter Bjorn and John and Other Irritations

So today has been a long day, in the great tradition of said phrase. On Friday the vet told Wendy that the budgies (now named Heloise and Dirk incidentally, so hopefully Wendy's got their gender's correct as it's still a little iffy at this point) had psitticosis. And since this lovely bacteria is communicable to humans Wendy and I both had to go to the doctor today. Where we were told, "Ok, call is if you have headaches, fever, or are coughing a lot." And to top it all off it turns out they don't have psitticosis at all. Heloise is totally healthy and Dirk appears to have the birdie equivalent of AIDS. In case anyone's counting that makes 3 or 4 pets with compromised immune systems. Poor baby. Hopefully he'll wind up being fine though. And the appointment wasn't a complete waste because I also got a tetanus shot (now with added whooping cough protection!) and the first of three HPV vaccines. So my arm, shoulder, and the left side of my neck are achey, but if I step on a rusty nail I'll be fine.

And that took me to three o'clock. About a month ago I impulse bought a ticket to see Peter Bjorn and John at Webster Hall. So despite the fact that I've been feeling kind of gross lately I felt like I had to go. I didn't particularly want to see the opening bands though (in fact I still have no idea who they were) so I figured I'd just go around 9:30. Watched the Sabres suck (and seriously, they should stop that because it's getting kind of annoying) for a couple of periods and then headed off to the concert. Only to find out that they wouldn't be on until 10:45. So I watched the last 4 minutes of the game at the Village Pourhouse, during which time they did not suck but also, according to the NHL, did not score, and then went home for awhile.

I got back to Webster Hall around 10:30. Two vodka cranberries with too much ice and too little vodka and $18 dollars later, the band actually came on. One of the girls standing next to me had at some point prior to their appearance said, "Swedes are like Germans, right, so they should be on time." Huh? When has a concert ever started on time? So at 11:10 they came on and I discovered that Peter Bjorn and John? Are really boring. Very, very boring. They're like indie-pop elevator music. What was I thinking when I decided to go to that? So I stayed for about 4 songs and then decided that I might as well go home rather than stand there stewing.

As it turns out, I probably should have worn rainboots as it was pouring pretty hard by then. Oh well. By the time I got home (after a brief stop at Pommes Frites because when I'm cranky I crave greasy food) My pants and shoes were completely soaked. And I had realized that the combination of not eating anything between 9 am and 11:30 pm and my being a complete lightweight had actually left me a bit drunk. Which wasn't necessarily a bad thing. So I wound up home, around midnight on a Tuesday, eating fries and watching Ma Vie en Rose. Really not such an awful way to spend the evening.

Coachella

I feel like crap, and should be in bed (because yes I'm that sad in addition to being gross at the moment) but instead I'm watching a live webcast of Andrew Bird at Coachella. I have tickets to see him in mid-May (yay!) but he's always fun to watch live, switching instuments all the time and looping different sounds and such. His new album didn't disappoint me at all, thankfully. And Regina Spektor's on later so of course I have to stay up for that. Coachella is the one music festival I always wish I could go to. Not going to happen any year soon though.

Anyway, it's very cool that they're doing this webcast thing, although I didn't know about it until just now and I don't think there are too many people I want to see tomorrow. I would have liked to see Of Montreal and Bjork yesterday if I had known.

I'm sorry. This rambling is probably not terribly interesting and yet I'm posting it anyway...

Italian Dish

My grandfather has been, let us say, bothered that I don't call more often. I don't call anyone, so I don't feel particularly guilty about this. I feel even less guilty when he has other people call to nag me about not calling him. I may be nag-free for a while though--yeah right--as I went out with him and my grandmother last night. A friend of theirs does a cabaret-type show so I met them after work and we went out for dinner and then to her show.

The show was at a new cultural center at the South Street Seaport. I've actually never been there or, really, considered going there. We ate at a nice enough Italian restaurant though, where we were served by a pleasant waitress with an Eastern European accent. Not much atmosphere and it was quite empty (as was the whole area, no real surprise on a Tuesday night) which I hate in a restaurant, but the food was good. I was informed that my grandfather called his mother every day even though she never called him. I rolled my eyes. Dinner proceeded smoothly. I actually love seeing them for all I complain about the nagging.

Anyway, the friend who does the cabaret show is someone my grandfather met at his gym and she obviously loves the performing. The show is called Italian Dish and features her little stories about songs mixed in with songs about food. Her enthusiasm made it fun and I thought the show as a whole was very charming.