Ka-ching

Paid over $100 for three tickets to the Seattle Beck show on Friday night, and I feel like an idiot. This review is too nice–not only was the show kind of hokey, but it was only an hour and fifteen minutes long. The reviewer doesn’t even mention that about half the songs were incomplete–it was like he started playing, got through the first chorus, didn’t like the audience response, and switched to a new song. Medleys are a cheap way of pleasing lazy reviewers and casual fans, but for those of us who counted ourselves among his real fans and have actually paid good money for all seven of his records….so over.

Le Tigre opened. Their act consists of screaming the kind of lyrics a first year women’s studies major might dream up over heavily sampled beats and rudimentary guitar and bass. I can’t tell if they’re serious or a performance art project, but it was about as much fun as a government rally in a communist dictatorship.

Contrast this with a band I saw in a 50-seat club on Wednesday, Sugar Skulls, consisting of three women (violin, bass, and keyboards) and a male drummer. Absolutely were some of the best musicians I’ve ever seen anywhere–sort of like Mahavishnu meets Knitting Factory jazz–fast and precise, but also organic and beautiful. By shredding the hell out of any guy who took the stage that night, these womyn did more for feminism in 50 minutes than Le Tigre could hope to do in a lifetime of “girls don’t have to try” political rallying.

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