Delivering American University's news and views since 1925 | Tuesday, September 26, 2023
Alex Kapranos spread his legs apart during the punches of the "Walk Away" chorus, pounding his pelvis to the beat set forth by drummer Paul Thomson. His pants gave new meaning to the term "tightie whities," as his constrained bottom struggled against the stiff fabric.
Hard-Fi hail from Staines, England, which they try to pass off as West London (Americans won't know the difference!). Tom Smith's Editors call Birmingham, a former northern factory town, their home, and make no mention of their English citizenship in their songs.
Stuart Murdoch dances like he's recently come off a stint of watching hours of "The Breakfast Club" on loop. He twirls and kicks as if the ghosts of Molly Ringwald's past characters have him possessed. The presuppositions about Belle and Sebastian's set possibilities abounded with thoughts of peaceful yawning and wishing for a seat, but two nights of the band's fast-paced new sound at the 9:30 club debunked these theories.
Before the days of "Transatlanticism," the heart-baring boys of Death Cab for Cutie managed their own affairs. Now that things have expanded - the band is off Barsuk, the indie label and dirt that anchored their roots, and on Atlantic, a major label that helps them tour extensively - they need some help.
The church of Rufus Wainwright is a smoky club in northwest D.C. He rests helpless and made-up on a white crucifix, his hands tied, his chest heaving under an electric blue tunic. "Gay Messiah," a swirling, wispy acoustic song about the coming of a homosexual savior (who will, in fact, be wearing tube socks) plays behind him, and the words resonate from his tilted throat, a call to his followers.
Rob Goodspeed knows what's going on. And why shouldn't he? He's got a whole network of specialized editors to tell him every day. As editor of DCist, a fast-growing weblog documenting the District's events, Goodspeed has to be on the alert for what's happening so faithful readers can plan their social lives.
The Bravery has been toting its only record on tour for about a year now, and it's starting to show. Gone are the days of blue eyeliner and ceiling-high hairdos, and here are the days of under-eye circles and looser pants. Maybe their penile circulation has begun to suffer, or maybe they've been on the road for more days than there are New Order fans.
Brendan Benson is no newbie when it comes to playing live music. In fact, these days he's kind of lost his sparkle. His emaciated bottom swam under his belt-sucked waist, and his mussed hair and stubbly face hid under the rim of a cap. His scraggly ways didn't affect his performance, however, which was full of heart and perfectly hit high notes.
Those in the market for shirts that proclaim self-breast love, well-stitched voodoo dolls or vintage-looking one-of-a-kind skirts were in luck at Saturday's Crafty Bastards arts and crafts fair, sponsored by the Washington City Paper. Over 70 vendors set up shop near the Marie Reed Learning Center on the main strip of Adams Morgan for a day of food, music and general money spending.
Cincinnati's the Greenhornes have quite the impressive resume for not having released an album since 2002. With their fingers firmly holding onto Jack White's belt loops, they're along for the ride of their previously unexposed lives. Patrick Keeler, drummer for the band, said he likes playing both the large venues that come with opening for the White Stripes and the small clubs, like the Black Cat, that preceding a Brendan Benson set brings.
