(no subject)
Saw two concerts this past week: Mariza (five stars) and the White Stripes (surprisingly, only three).
The White Stripes' UK tour has been getting good reviews all round, so I was surprised to be very unmoved by them. Live performing really shows up the limitations of a two-piece, and the sound mix was abominable - drums totally out of balance, possibly to compensate for the lack of bass? The tempo of the set lurched about with no pattern I could see. The audience were a bit odd, too: they didn't really come alive until Seven Nation Army, second from the end. I'm used to being showered with beer at concerts, but this concert was the first time I've ever been annoyed by it. By the time a small ugly drunk man accidentally punched me on the arm towards the end, I was ready to kill. What else? Oh, the marshalling was bad to the point of being scary. Urgh. Maybe I just wasn't in the mood.
A front-row, centre seat for Mariza was an amazing experience and it felt like a personal performance. She sings in a way that can rip out your heart, but I didn't realise she was so beautiful, too. (Eye-candy notes: one of her guitarists is also beautiful, in that vaguely Mephistophelean way Iberian men can sometimes be. One of the others, oddly, looked like James Nesbitt.)
The audience had a large proportion of gay men, presumably on the hunt for the next diva to worship. Mariza is certainly dramatastic, but she's no prima donna, happily.
And speaking of gay men, this article by the fab Alex Cox (who is not gay, I think) is a delight.
Ni, I'm missing you, hope you're ok and that you decide to come back soon.
ETA: Minx: email soon. Mea maxima culpa.
The White Stripes' UK tour has been getting good reviews all round, so I was surprised to be very unmoved by them. Live performing really shows up the limitations of a two-piece, and the sound mix was abominable - drums totally out of balance, possibly to compensate for the lack of bass? The tempo of the set lurched about with no pattern I could see. The audience were a bit odd, too: they didn't really come alive until Seven Nation Army, second from the end. I'm used to being showered with beer at concerts, but this concert was the first time I've ever been annoyed by it. By the time a small ugly drunk man accidentally punched me on the arm towards the end, I was ready to kill. What else? Oh, the marshalling was bad to the point of being scary. Urgh. Maybe I just wasn't in the mood.
A front-row, centre seat for Mariza was an amazing experience and it felt like a personal performance. She sings in a way that can rip out your heart, but I didn't realise she was so beautiful, too. (Eye-candy notes: one of her guitarists is also beautiful, in that vaguely Mephistophelean way Iberian men can sometimes be. One of the others, oddly, looked like James Nesbitt.)
The audience had a large proportion of gay men, presumably on the hunt for the next diva to worship. Mariza is certainly dramatastic, but she's no prima donna, happily.
And speaking of gay men, this article by the fab Alex Cox (who is not gay, I think) is a delight.
Ni, I'm missing you, hope you're ok and that you decide to come back soon.
ETA: Minx: email soon. Mea maxima culpa.