Wednesday, July 23, 2003

Carissa's Weird - Last night at Bottom of the Hill

Last night I felt like Cameron in Ferris Bueller's Day Off, sitting in the car debating whether or not to go meet Matthew Broderick. I had told Jane that I was up for seeing Carissa's Weird at Bottom of the Hill, but when it neared 6:30 pm and I was still at work, my motivation to do anything but go home and crawl into bed was severely lacking.

Fortunately, like Cameron, I rallied and had a great time. We caught the tail end of Earlimart's opening set, which was really good. I would like to hear more of them.

Carissa's Weird played a soft and melodic set, a sound that matched the frailty and disposition of the female lead singer who never looked at the audience while singing and looked like she would break in half if caught in a strong wind. Still, it was stirring. Jane bought the CD, which of course I will borrow. The biggest drawback of the show was having to contend with the obnoxious fans there to see headliner Elefant. One guy in particular kept saying dumb things, and saying them loudly.

Elefant had Chris, Jane and I doubled over laughing. Think: Adam Sandler in The Wedding Singer. Or as Jane argued, drugged up David Bowie late 70s, early 80s. Rolling Stone agreed:

Take one Diego Garcia, Detroit-born child of Argentinean parents, put him in downtown New York, and what's the result? Inexplicably, a great album that sounds like it could have been part of the Eighties British Invasion. Elefant's throbbing debut crams ten tuneful tracks into thirty-two minutes. Most of the songs are built around insidious dance grooves, which get filled out by excellent guitar work from a man known as Mod and vocals from songwriter Garcia, who favors the dramatic stylings of David Bowie.

I wouldn't give him such an enthusiastic endorsement. The guy was a big cheese ball. They played at Pop Scene earlier this month. Maybe in that setting I would have been more open to reveling in his antics. He does know he's not British, right?

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