2004-06-13

salve for what heals you

Saturday night at PACE:

Tapped toes and smiled at the lyrical "eptitude" of local guys Lo Fine; afterwards hummed through the hit-or-slide (but mostly hit) kiddie coaster of Spanish for Hitchhiking.

But first.
First, I had my heart broken and mended and handed back to me only to be broken again, to misquote and mis-attribute the SfH guys. I have fallen in love with Lys Guillorn. Quietly backed up by the Sawtelles, she took off her glasses and swayed through a setlist of what was more alt-fugue than alt-country, roots methadone. These were not songs; they were fragments, threads and themes in backwater steelstring blues. This is what the bottom of the river sounds like.

On went the glasses and out the door she went without two words, but next gig is in New Haven on the 22nd and I'll be there with my poor heart in my pocket.

(Do check out Lo Fine - their CD is next on my when-I-have-money list. Great live, great recorded, great guys.)

In other, mostly-white, left-to-center, Northeastern U.S. fashion sense news:
Every person on this page looks like someone I know. Are we so predictable?

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