A Letter to the Fiery Furnaces

Dear Fiery Furnaces,
How are you? You guys rocked last night. I appreciate the artistry and showmanship of playing your old stuff totally different. Eleanor seems to have lost some weight and now resembles a young Patti Smith with a cuter face. Love the haircut. Did you notice the dude in front? He looked like he learned to dance by playing DDR. Way to live up to white stereotypes, Acid Trip! And then that Ally McBeal girl who was doing the generic 80s thrash-the-shoulders-shake-the-head-back-and-forth dance threw a flower onstage, clearly wishing for validation from Eleanor. But Eleanor was enamored of Go-Go Boots, the hopeless fangirl who impressed the band with her knowledge of every song lyric (as evidenced by her singing along to every tune). She was to you what Houx is to Metric. Lucky girl got the playlist and props from Eleanor, but if Houx had been there, an onstage hug would surely have ensued.

Oh, hey, do you know who else was at your show last night? The fucking SHINS! That's who! Scott and I bumped into them outside, casually talking amongst themselves. Actually, Scott recognized them and I sauntered up and asked them if I could please have my picture taken with them. They said yes and I, embarassed that I had interrupted and possibly outed them, said thanks and strolled away quickly. Unfortunately, every time I try to post that picture I get an error message from blogger. Oh wells. I'll try again later.

So, in addition to seeing a stellar show in a venue small enough to accomodate my need to be 5 feet from the stage, I got to say "sup" to my favorite band. Yay.

Your friend,
Heather