Paper bird et al.

Seine Hand, die hinter seinem Rücken flachliegend an der Gürtel gedrückt war, bewegte sich, langsam, etwas zitternd und völlig unbeachtet. Die Finger schlossen sich, ballten sich, um sich wieder aus der Faust zu entspannen. Langsam schritt er voran, die eine Hand selbstbewegend. In der anderen hielt er ein Buch vor sich, den Flur entlang langsam lesend und schreitend, verträumt und vom Buch verfangen.

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It must have been around 11, or close enough that you wouldn't care. The place was pretty packed, surprising perhaps for this time of night. It was Friday, after all, but it was also a restaurant and not just a bar. Happy hour are two of the best words out there, and our happy hour took the form of four expertly prepared and discretely decorated rolls, four divided by eight divided by three. Pickeled gourd, rock shrimp, salmon, avocado, and cucumber, shielded in rice and carefully wrapped in nori, dunked in wasabi soy and separated by slices of pickled ginger. Each one a mouthful, a mix of tastes both strong and subtle, sensations and textures to tease the tongue.

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On my way to breakfast this morning I almost fell down the stairs, and did something to my ankle. It's got two hours to get better before I go for my run :(

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For the measely price of $5, we went to a concert at the University. The first band was already playing as we walked in. They were good, but they were bad. I won't make any claims about my musical knowledge, so forgive my somewhat uncertain definition. The band played something I guess you could call electric blues or light jazz, but to me it sounded like elevator music meets guitar hero. The guitarist and bassist were both excellent musicians, but for one of the few times in my life, their music just left me cold. We were happy when it ended, as it had literally actually almost put us to sleep.

The next band was a quartet called Golden Brown, consisting of a doghouse bass, guitar, cello and lap steel guitar. They sounded a bit like the Be Good Tanyas with new-age influences, had lovely vocals and basically did a beautiful job.

After much staging and rearranging, sound checks and dial-twisting, we were treated to the unique music of Laura Goldhammer (see video below). She's a one-woman show--though this time she played with the bassist and guitarist of the previous band--who makes animations to which she performs live. She reminds me vocally a bit of Joanna Newstrom, but also did a smashing version of Feist's Secret Heart. She switches off between guitar and banjo, with or without her own percussion. It was, simply put, amazing. Watch the videos.







The last band, and the headliners for the evening, was a Denver group called Paper Bird. While you're reading this, go open THIS PAGE in another window and listen to their music. I'm pretty sure I saw these guys playing outside on the lawn one of the days this week; it's not that often you hear absolutely stunning vocals paired with banjo and trombone. They entered with fanfare and proceeded to do an a capella piece. Phenomenal singers, all three. Their music is a mix of a capella, barbershop, swing, and folk. Listening to them just put me in absolute awe of these girls and guys. Their singing and harmonies are impeccable, their style and musicality simply astounding.

As soon as they began to play, someone down the row from me began twitching wildly in his seat, throwing himself backwards and forwards as if traumitized. The band, who is apparently familiar with him, invited him and anyone else who wanted to dance to come up to the front and he leapt from his seat where he proceeded to take the entire right-hand aisle. His arms windmilling, he danced--well, I might add--in apparent total ecstacy, flinging all limbs in all directly, wildly and spinning, caught completely by the music.



Live music, for me, just transports me off to somewhere distant and I kind of drift away on a little mental raft.