It's only because I know you thrill at the ups and downs of my topsy-turvy life that I offer this brief review of Friday's Will Oldham show, and in reverse chronological order.

If exiting the venue normally was any indication of fire evacuation plans, the Logan Square Auditorium is one misplaced cigarette away from becoming the indie rock equivalent of the ovens at Auschwitz.

Will Oldham's performance was significantly weaker than when I saw him during the summer of 1993 at Metro. Perhaps it was because he was joined by a band, including a willowy female back-up singer that seemed passingly familiar with his material and former Zwan guitarist Matt Sweeney. Or maybe it was because a fat girl on ecstasy and her loud friends, also on ecstasy, bumped into me and sang into my ear throughout the performance. I pretend to be neither young nor hip any longer, and I will neither condone nor condemn the use of drugs, but have we come to taking ecstasy at Will Oldham shows? It seems to me an odd choice of venue.

Having read Chicago Reader music man Peter Margasak's preview of opener Joanna Newsom, I was skeptical. Though complementary in the final analysis, he described her as sounding like, "a 12-year-old girl going through a heavy Bjork phase." It's not the most flattering description, to be sure, but it's utterly accurate. Despite that, she held me in thrall throughout her performance. As Margasak suggested, her voice grew on me quickly and her harp playing was, well, good, I guess, since I don't have a basis for comparison. She's also kind of hot, especially when considered in comparison to Will Oldham.


Newsom's Milk-Eyed Mender is for sale. Her love, presumably, is not.

Analogcabin @ 11:11 AM
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