pretty girl hate
Saw Mirah, with Laura Veirs and the local the Delicious opening last night. The Delicious drummer, Ben Fowler, went to high school where I did and dated a dear friend of mine; I was his first newspaper interview when he was with a band known as Cardboard. He still acknowledges me, even though he's an indie scene big name drummer boy, it warms the cockles of my heart!
I was worried she was going to do all new stuff, but the second half of the concert was all Advisory Committee, the soundtrack of my past year, the love of my musical life. Scott came along and we had a lovely time, surrounded by so much hipster you could choke on it. Everyone was cute and young and that made the whole event so surreal. They were second-gen hipsters, as in I recognized almost no one and a 19-year-old friend recognized everyone. I felt old.
I'd like to note that I don't like Laura Veirs and I feel bad about that. I also didn't pre-listen anything, but for her to follow the Delicious wasn't exactly a good choice. Mirah played a Katrina song with the line, "out to the Gulf of Mexico, where the souls of all the poor folks go" which was poignant and beautiful. "It's not your fault, Pontchartrain," she sang, "It's not your fault, levee-break," and the song was elegant and political and exactly what I love in singer/songwriter goodness.
She also isn't usually political at all; but I like her anyways, which is unusual enough. I was surprised to learn she was an indie darling; I'd received a song of hers, Light the Match, on a mix-cd second hand in '04, and finally got around to purchasing Advisory Committee last spring. I listened to it non-stop since and need to scrape together funds for more albums. I was so happy that she came to the Buskirk Chumley and that she was affordable. It made my week a lot brighter, although I was impatient and bad at waiting; I never go see 'big name' shows, I haven't in years; I'm used to very bad and sometimes decent basement bands that I wasn't excited about anyway.
There was a girl sitting in front of my at one point that filled me with more pretty girl hate than I'd had in years; she kept artfully tousling her peroxide blond/dark brown streaked hair, with big chandelier earrings and a white-spaghetti-strap dress/shirt. She was that perfect amber blonde tan, with big eyes and elegant makeup and I hated every minute of looking past her perfect shoulders. I've been feeling pretty lately, and I hate to be so shut down; it didn't help that I'd come almost straight from job interviewing and looked 100 percent bland in professional dove grey pinstriped paints, a black tank and an Express going-interviewing-button-down shirt that Brett once called my Dilbert shirt.
I kept wanting her to say something dreadfully stupid or pick her nose or reveal a truly horrific tattoo choice, but no! She remained beautifully untouchable all night long. It was a shame.
I was worried she was going to do all new stuff, but the second half of the concert was all Advisory Committee, the soundtrack of my past year, the love of my musical life. Scott came along and we had a lovely time, surrounded by so much hipster you could choke on it. Everyone was cute and young and that made the whole event so surreal. They were second-gen hipsters, as in I recognized almost no one and a 19-year-old friend recognized everyone. I felt old.
I'd like to note that I don't like Laura Veirs and I feel bad about that. I also didn't pre-listen anything, but for her to follow the Delicious wasn't exactly a good choice. Mirah played a Katrina song with the line, "out to the Gulf of Mexico, where the souls of all the poor folks go" which was poignant and beautiful. "It's not your fault, Pontchartrain," she sang, "It's not your fault, levee-break," and the song was elegant and political and exactly what I love in singer/songwriter goodness.
She also isn't usually political at all; but I like her anyways, which is unusual enough. I was surprised to learn she was an indie darling; I'd received a song of hers, Light the Match, on a mix-cd second hand in '04, and finally got around to purchasing Advisory Committee last spring. I listened to it non-stop since and need to scrape together funds for more albums. I was so happy that she came to the Buskirk Chumley and that she was affordable. It made my week a lot brighter, although I was impatient and bad at waiting; I never go see 'big name' shows, I haven't in years; I'm used to very bad and sometimes decent basement bands that I wasn't excited about anyway.
There was a girl sitting in front of my at one point that filled me with more pretty girl hate than I'd had in years; she kept artfully tousling her peroxide blond/dark brown streaked hair, with big chandelier earrings and a white-spaghetti-strap dress/shirt. She was that perfect amber blonde tan, with big eyes and elegant makeup and I hated every minute of looking past her perfect shoulders. I've been feeling pretty lately, and I hate to be so shut down; it didn't help that I'd come almost straight from job interviewing and looked 100 percent bland in professional dove grey pinstriped paints, a black tank and an Express going-interviewing-button-down shirt that Brett once called my Dilbert shirt.
I kept wanting her to say something dreadfully stupid or pick her nose or reveal a truly horrific tattoo choice, but no! She remained beautifully untouchable all night long. It was a shame.
posted by Kari Stevenson @ 2:06 PM
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