Friday, October 07, 2005


They say once you have kids you’ll never need an alarm clock ever again, and it’s largely true, though my wife weaned me from sleeping in pretty early. Yesterday she roused me from sleep to let me know that baby Z. had not only had an accident, but that the baby and the crib were smeared with poop. I only had a few hours of sleep, but groggily I went to work on the room while my wife cleaned the baby.

Needless to say, I didn’t feel totally up for catching Sleater-Kinney, but I’m glad I changed my mind. The group has been great all six or so times I’ve seen them, and last night was no exception. Especially impressive were the songs from “The Woods,” which made up the bulk of the set, as well as the band’s timely reworking of CCR’s “Fortunate Son.” Which, disturbingly, has been timely throughout the whole five or so years they’ve been playing it. Sigh.

The Ponys opened, and I was not terribly impressed. They basically sounded like the Dandy Warhols, only with their ‘90s West Coast heroin chic replaced with a late ‘70s NYC heroin chic. That they missed the opportunity to introduce a Midwest heroin chic will haunt them to the last of their derivative days.

The show cost about $17, which come to think of it was what I paid to see U2 back in 1987. My, how times have changed.

No shows this weekend (thank God), but next week is Daniel Lanois, Dead Can Dance, Bruce Springsteen and Richard Thompson. A good week for music by white people. And in the case of Dead Can Dance, really, really white people.


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