David Gray: Making it acceptable for PDA whenever his music is played

The Wang Theatre in Boston is an impressive place, with its vast lobby and impossibly high orchestra sections (there are three people). It has staged plays, musicals, opera singers and probably a few world-famous drunken rock stars.

All of this makes the appearance of Lisa Hannigan all the more magical. We wrote about her this past February on the strength of her song “Lillie” and the accompanying video that came with it. For a while, her track live on my iPod as the random track on my Nite playlist and the one my friends would inevitably ask “Hey, who is this?”

To see her play live in such a massive venue and opening for David Gray brought with it a strange sense of satisfaction and pride, as if anyone who had heard of her prior to this moment was with her on stage, singing to a massive audience who were all thinking the same thing: “Hey, who is this?”

It was a nice precursor to David Gray, the Englishman who launched a thousand relationships with his songs of love, friendship and snow falling…slowly.

Almost immediately into his set, you could see the couples in the audience convene and embrace. I suspect most of them, like myself, have a personal memory attached to one of his songs.

Despite his punkish roots, Gray has emerged as the go-to guy whenever couples need something to wake up or fall asleep to together in bed on a rainy Sunday afternoon. These are songs that are simple and have a way of being realistic cinematic, in the sense that hearing them in a certain place and time can create a musical postcard people hold onto forever.

And though you may not understand how the two ugly people in front of you are caressing each other in public, you can appreciate it because, in this place and time, it truly is a beautiful thing to see love in its rarest and unbridled form.

For me, Gray will always remind me of the night my future wife and I connected, not as former lovers-turned friends-back to lovers again. This was two incredibly horny people who took out their frustrations on each other on a rainy Friday night with Gray playing in the background.

Though it was still cool for a Boston summer evening, the sun had managed to poke through around midday, creating a positive atmosphere with smiles and flip-fopped feet lining the street. In many ways, it was the perfect prelude to a Matisyahu concert, the Hasidic Jew with a penchant for reggae beats and hopeful lyrics.

As I changed out of workday clothes into concert gear in my girl’s car, the faint sound of a “Ohhhhh” floated through the air, telling us the punctual Bank of America Pavilion had suddenly come to life.

“Do you think my car will be towed? It’s ok in that spot, right?” she asked as we walked, the sound getting louder.
“Yea, I’m sure it’s fine.”

Truthfully, I wasn’t that sure, but at that point it was too late. Like the sun poking through rainclouds at noon, there’s a strange sense of contentment and happiness that hits you during a Matisyahu concert. Maybe it’s the ambiguous religiosity of the shows. Or maybe it’s the strong scent of weed in the air.

We walked in as he was performing “Jerusalem” and as I paid my $10 beer (at least it was Samuel Adams) and headed to my seat, I began to look around at the crowd.

There was a mix, from some loners to my left to the bald-headed dad in front of me who looked like he was there with his entire family.  There was also a girl further down my row with her arms crossed, possibly wondering why she picked the hippie over the jock as her boyfriend at that party that one time.

Pretty soon, the music started to pick up causing everyone to do the same kind of dance, a sort of backward march thing, but in place (It’s the kind of natural movement that immediate comes when hearing reggae. Put some on now and see).

And then the DMB jam session began.

It’s a term my better half and I made up and it refers to an extended section of a song where everything slows down and suddenly it turns into a different song that is slow and sounds nothing like the initial song you were listening to.

This happened. A lot. At one point it was just Matisyahu singing “waaaahhhhhhoooooooooohhhhhh” into the mic for what seemed like 10 minutes.

It’s not that it was bad. Quite the opposite. But it was relaxing and as the shoulders began to slump downward, some in the crowd began to look tired (bald dad sat down and crossed his legs, the ultimate sign of “I need rest now”).

It got to the point when I started to ask why other songs weren’t being played like “Youth” or “Indestructible.” Inevitably “King Without a Crown” was played and I feared it was the end of the set. Thankfully, it wasn’t.

The show ended with his new single “One Day,” a Top 40-radio ready song that will be in numerous Summer 09 iPod playlists once it gets more airplay.

At this moment, life crept back into the crowd. The loners started to smile at strangers. Bald dad uncrossed his legs and held his wife. Even angry girlfriend started to sway and nod her head.

Granted, it’s an undeniably catchy song, but as we left with the chorus still ringing in my ears, I realized the basic message of staying positive for a better tomorrow is probably what gets people. And in the end, that’s the essence of religion and music. One guy just decided to take the best of both and grow a beard.

[Below is a video of some pictures with "One Day" playing. It's admittedly horrible. But I like to think it will mark a new project for 52shows, the video/pic documentation of a show. Just need to sneak in a better camera.]

[vimeo 5518046]

*Not from last night’s show

Last night I met up with an old friend at a random show I knew nothing about.

“These guys are like old-school (Red Hot Chili) Peppers…They got this funky vibe thing going on…actually, it’s a little crazy how much they rip them off.”

That was my intro to the band The Force, who blends the Star Wars geekiness and sexuality of its name perfectly.

The first thing you notice before their live show is Lord Scyentifik’s hair. He’s a white guy with a massive afro, the kind of guy you see on the subway/bus/park bench and whispher “What an asshole” to yourself. This all fades the second you see him perform on stage.

Familiar sounds of funk rock immediately fill the air as Lord jumps up and down on stage while women in the front start dancing, thankful they picked tonight to wear the push-up bra. It’s not so much that they want to dance as it is they have to. Once the funk gets in you, there is no control. Even my buddy pulled out some Michael Jacks-now moves while carrying on a conversation about his fight to rid the world of being dependent on oil.

I know. Hard to explain. Here’s a video of the band from a year ago for a taste.

See? The hair is everywhere.

And I’m not gonna lie. I wasn’t expecting much and really only ran out on a Friday night to get hammered. But the Force, like its name suggests, makes you listen to them and, in some cases, inspires your body to move in unnatural, should-only-be-done-at-home, ways.

This isn’t the dark side. It’s the sexy rock side and exists in a galaxy far, far away.

“Love is Complicated,” TV on the Radio band member Kyp Malone told a sold-out crowd at the Wilbur Tuesday night.

Malone was talking about how outside of their concerts, Bostonians are assholes – but the band loves us anyway. Speaking as, I guess, one of the assholes, I should say our love is mutual, Kyp.

Honestly. With “Dear Science,” TVotR’s third sternum-thumping soul-shredding powerhouse album, still ringing in my ears, the Monday night concert felt less like a concert and more like a proposal.

I went into the concert eager for some kind, any kind, of release. I started listening to “Dear Science” Monday this week, and it very nearly brought me to tears. It’s that powerful. Seeing it live was even stronger.

Seeing most of the new album done live, with Malone and frontman Tunde Adebimpe pouring their everything into the tracks, with equal attention and life put into unstoppable barnburning favorites like “Wolf Like Me” and “Staring at the Sun,” brought you down – or up – to the band’s level.

The show was a communal effort, and wouldn’t have had nearly the mind-clearing power it had over me if the audience didn’t allow themselves to be taken away. There was the necessary hipster headbobbing, of course, off to the right of the balcony, but down on the ground, the throng snaked, thumped, pulsed like organs, muscles, blood.

It’s the band’s earnestness that does it. Only a few times did the band pause to address the audience, and each time, as with Malone’s frank admission that Bostonians are jerks but he loves us anyhow, the band was so frank, so direct. You take that next to the poetry — both aural and lyrical — coming out of the musicians, and the show became one big clearing of the air.

By the end of the show, we were all like Winston Smith. Whatever we had put up had been broken down, and the audience and the band moved as one. The show’s hypnosis peaked with “Wolf like Me,” when the band showed us what the howling was for.

Everybody was singing, jumping, shouting along, howling forever.

After battling the strange area in Boston near the Harbor/Dock Area (I always get lost there and I inevitablly think of that Emilio Estevez movie “Judgment Night” where the dudes take a wrong turn and end up wrestling with the mob or something), I literally ran into the Bank of America Pavilion to catch what was left of the Sigur Rós show. Thankfully, I was only about ten minutes late and only briefly cursed Google Maps before handing over $9 for a Bud Lite in a plastic cup (ugh).

It’s difficult to describe a Sigur Rós concert without comparing it to a movie soundtrack or talking about various epiphanies one may have during a song. Mine revolved around the idea that the hoodie sweatshirt will never go out of style. At any give point in the future, it will either be embraced by the “cool kids” or the vagrants, and therefore, forever cool. The same thinking applies for smoking and girls who wear high-heeled boots.

Which led me to think of porn…but I digress.

There’s also something special when a band sings the majority of its songs in another language (Icelandic), and yet can still command a crowd emotionally. For some, Sigur Rós may just be background music, something to put on while they do work or walk around an outdoor concert venue, taking whiffs of weed and watching the Red Sox game on the televisions set up in the back (who comes to a concert and then watches the entire game on a small 13-inch screen with no sound?).

But there’s more to this music than that. There’s something inate and natural, that every time they strike a chord on stage, it strikes a human chord inside of us and helps us remember the tiny nuances in our life: the job you hate to love, the girl you’re gonna marry someday, the frozen pizza waiting for you in fridge. These are all littly Sigur Rós songs waiting to happen and when you hear them live, you experience these moments almost every minute.

All around the venue, which is open air with seats in the main area, people swayed and danced to the music. Most, I suspect, were unaware of the English translation of the songs (the band is still promising to put them up on their site). But it didn’t matter.

Through their music alone, one becomes philosophical and introspective. The picture in the middle of the post was from the end of the show, where confetti was blasted out, allowing it to gently fall on the crowd.

Sure, it’s just bits of colorful paper being thrown into the air, but that combined with the soft tunes of Sigur Rós can make a person feel invigorated and even hopeful. You forget about getting lost and about your diarrhea-prone dog at home.

Instead, you look up at the stars, breath deep and sip your beer and not worry about how overpriced it is.

If life is a movie, then the music of Sigur Rós is for those epic moments when the entire world feels like it’s folding into you.

Sigur Rós – Hoppipolla (live from the Bank of America Pav)
[audio:http://www.52shows.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/09/sigur-ros-hoppipolla.mp3]

An old friend turned me on to local Boston singer-songwriter Vanessa Kafka a couple of months ago and I was immediately drawn in by the the whole pop-sounding, girl with a guitar thing that she has going on. Tonight (I’m just as shocked as you are that I’m being prompt with the write-up), was her first since she dropped her newest release “Into Place,” which you can see above.

The timing of everything seemed right. The weather in Boston is starting to cool (got to wear a jacket tonight with a hoodie), which makes discovering a new acoustic-guitar based band all the more fitting.

I got there just in time and immediately ordered a Miller High Life (it seems to be my beer of choice when I’m discovering new things like bands, food and hidden talents).

This was Kafka’s first show since her album was released on Sept. 16 and it gave the show a certain electric feel. It’s always special to be there for the birth of an artist and to see how she handles this new-found position on stage.

With equal parts giddy (“I have merch! How cool is that?”) and vulnerability in her voice, it was easy to tell that this moment, standing on stage and looking out to a crowd of friends, was special for her.

But something else shined through. Towards the end of her short set, she played a song called “Tell Me So,” a song that has Kafka picking at the guitar while she sings about love. At the show, it was one of the only times where Kafka seemed to be someone else on stage, when the artist inside was coming out and she was doing more than simply playing music.

Vanessa Kafka – Tell Me So
[audio:http://www.52shows.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/09/11-tell-me-so.mp3]

From there, she launched into her fan-favorite/indie hit “Silhouette,” an insanely catchy tune made that would be at home on a soundtrack to a movie about a roadtrip out West (or even during a “special” moment on Grey’s Anatomy…I don’t watch the show I swear).

Vanessa Kafka – Silhouette
[audio:http://www.52shows.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/09/03-silhouette.mp3]

The melody stayed rattling around in my head as I drove with the windows down, taking in the autumn air, wondering what other musical finds would come my way this season…and how many new artists will have their big moment at TTs.

I’ll be honest. After working damn near 12 hours, I was barely in the mood to go out. But the lure of the night was too much for me, as was the prospect of entering a club with the distinct smell of beer and puke.

I had heard of the Duke Spirit, which is to say I read about them somewhere and knew that people were talking about them. What I didn’t realize was that the band was fronted by the Liela Moss, the energetic blond with a penchant for reaching to the sky and picking up mic stands.

There she is during one of her epic rock poses that sent her hair flying. At first i thought she was trying to hard, attempting to emulate rock stars of the past.

Then she started to act like she was seducing the mic and then starting slamming her tambourine in her hand. Before long, I found myself completely into the music, mesmerized by this blond singer with an English accent telling me a story about some accident the band had in the past. I didn’t care. I wanted another song so that the beat could be stuck in my head.

I wish I could tell you all the songs they placed. I can’t. I can tell you they played the song featured on this post, which is off their album “Neptune.” It’s been a while since I’ve seen a woman command a stage this well and with this much playful ferocity.

Random observation: the drummer is the guy with the fro in the picture who looks like Bob Dylan. He always wears vests and I wondered halfway through if he really liked vests or if he felt that every indie band should have “that” guy.

And with Moss’ stage presence, it’s always great to see a performer being as epic as possible, even if the club she’s in is a small one with ratty old pool tables in the back.

But what grabbed me from this show was how well it just took over my mind. Before long, I didn’t realize how much i was enjoying the songs and found myself completely lost in a wonderful aural sea of awesomeness.

Or maybe it’s because I gravitate towards any woman who flings her blond hair around that much.

Either way, like a teenager leaving a Mexican stripclub, I felt surprised and completely fulfilled after the show and wondered how many other good shows I’ve missed because I was “too tired” or “too drunk” to get there (ok, maybe the latter is a valid excuse).

Next time I say that to myself, I’ll think back to those mental pictures I now have of Liela Moss embedded in my brain.

The Duke Spirit – “The Step and the Walk”
[audio:http://www.52shows.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/08/03-the-step-and-the-walk.mp3]

Aug 8 2008 8:00P     All Points West Festival New York / New Jersey, New York
Aug 9 2008 8:00P     New American Music Union Festival Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Aug 10 2008 8:00P   3rd and Lindsley Nashville, Tennessee
Aug 12 2008 8:00P   The Basement Columbus, Ohio
Aug 13 2008 8:00P   Magic Stick Detroit, Michigan
Aug 14 2008 8:00P   Empty Bottle Chicago, Illinois
Aug 17 2008 8:00P   Slavia Stadium – Supporting REM -(Multifunctional Centre Eden) Prague
Aug 22 2008 8:00P   Reading Festival Reading
Aug 23 2008 8:00P   Leeds Festival Leeds
Aug 24 2008 8:00P   Solfest – Main Stage Tarns, Silloth, Northwest
Sep 6 2008 4:30P     ‘Bestival’ – BBC Tent Isle of Wight, South
Sep 26 2008 8:00P   Oran Mor Glasgow
Sep 28 2008 8:00P   The Cockpit Leeds, Northeast
Sep 29 2008 8:00P   Club Academy Manchester, Northwest
Sep 30 2008 8:00P   Astoria London, London and South East
Oct 1 2008 8:00P    Komedia Brighton, London and South East

Last night (I know, it’s rare that I write about a show this quickly), I checked out Wakey! Wakey!, a band we were touting last week thanks to their free album download “Wakey! Wakey! Live at the Bowery Ballroom.”

Armed with a sensitive beard and a keyboard, Wakey! Wakey! took the minimal stage at the Asian-themed restaurant/bar/music venue, All Asia, as the opening act for the CNC marathon (not the music factory, though they are kind of like a music factory).

I know, the name is offputting and now you don’t even want to press play to hear his music. You should. He’s like Ben Folds.

“But I’m better looking than Ben Folds,” said Mike Grubs during the show. “You can tell Ben Folds that…now he’s going to kick my ass.”

The comparison is warranted. When a young, hipster white guy sits down at a piano and starts to sing, the first thought in everyone’s mind is “Ben Folds” followed very quickly by “Hey, I want to hear ‘Brick‘ again.”

In fact, after Grubs sang a cover of Cyndi Lauper’s “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” (it’s not weird when you sing it with the passion of a white pianist with a beard), some dude yelled out “Ben Folds!”

(Right the music. I’m losing track here. I have “Brick” playing in the background and am thinking about abortion.)

Wakey! Wakey! – “LGA”
[audio:http://www.52shows.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/07/03-lga.mp3]

See? Once you get past the name, it’s engaging, sensitive music.

He’s got a couple of albums out, mostly of live material (he calls it the Bootleg Series and as far as I know, there are three volumes. The second one is called “Silent as a Movie”).

The show was intimate. It was 8:30pm on a Friday night, so the crowd was somewhat thin. But Wakey! didn’t care. He treated us like we were an army of music fans, talking about drinking his first Sam Adams Light (“It’s great. And it’s light so I’m going to drink four of these and sing at the bar later”) and how awkward it is to sing “War Sweater” in front of his sister (who may or may not have been hit on by an older guy at the bar).

But something else happened during the show, and I’m not sure if it’s because there’s been a lack of it in the world or it I just haven’t been paying attention: I’m ready for sensitive piano rock once more.

It was refreshing to hear a song with the lyric “I bet you can’t guess what I would to kiss you in the middle of the room” and fully enjoy it. Maybe it was his easy-going style or the fact that I needed a calm moment from enduring another horrible week at the office (why did I think Journalism was a good career again?).

In many ways, the name of the band is appropriate. Not only does it foreshadow the idea that it’s something you won’t expect, but Grubs music helps you wake up from the familiar sound of the guitar/bass combo. Tis time for the piano.

Before he went on, Grubs mentioned that he’ll be doing something with the violinist from The Arcade Fire. I don’t care what it is because whatever this guy releases, I’m ready to hear it.

Aug. 26 TT the Bear’s, Cambridge
Aug. 28 Rockwood Music Hall w/ Pearl and the Beard, New York City, 9 p.m.
Aug. 28 Public Assembly 0 Warhouse Songs Vol. 2 CD Release Party, Brooklyn, 11:30 p.m. (yes, 2 shows in one night)
Aug. 30 The Red & Black Washington DC
Sept. 24 The Black Cat Washington DC

Last week was hell for me. And when I say hell, I mean that it was a getting-kicked-in-the-crotch horrible with a side of smelly shit. Yea, real bad.

(As for why, let’s just say the debilitating state of the newspaper industry hit home, turning me from a vibrant and happy arts reporter to a full-of-piss-and-vinegar-rage cops reporter).

But I pushed on and, in the end, found that the right mixture of ice cream, Chinese food and indie rock is the right recipe to turn a shitty, soul-sucking, debilitating week completely around.

Step one: eat an obscene amount of ice cream at the Jimmy Fund Scooper Bowl, an event that combines the unbridled joy of a buffet with the creamy taste of dairy. For $8, we went nuts, trying flavors like “Cheesecake Brownie,” “Birthday Cake,” “Imagined Whirl Peace” and “Mint Chocolate.”

From there, we headed to Chinatown and, after gorging on fried calamari and fried rice (yea, i beat the shit out of my stomach), it was time for the ladyfriend to return to the apartment, leaving me and the sis to venture out to the show.

(BTW: The most disturbing part of eating in Chinatown? Waiting for the men’s bathroom and seeing an elderly woman emerge from it. Worse than that? She didn’t flush).

Local band You Can Be a Wesley was performing when we got to Great Scott in Allston, inspiring us to head straight to the bar. The band was decent, though at times I felt their lyrics were completely comprised of sounds like “waaaaahhhhhhhhaaaww” and “aaaaaahhhhhhhhrrrrraaa.” It was endearing at first. Then annoying.

After Wesley was done, they said Grand Archives would be up next, which surprised me since I was expecting to see Sera Cahoone, who is on Subpop (like GA) to hit the stage next. We found out later she was sick and couldn’t perform that night.

Instead, we got the impossibly thin Mat Brooke (seriously, his legs look like ski poles) and company taking the stage and launching right into the music that, for the past year or so, have sent music bloggers into hyperventilating hysterics (I’m one of them).

Brooke looked possessed when he sang and tilted his head back during the high notes, which made his eyes look even wider. At times, he looked like a mix of Cat Stevens, Torgo from “Manos: Hands of Fate” and my old college roommate when he was drunk and stuck in the bathtub.

When he sang, his entire body stayed relatively still while his left leg vigorously kept the beat, so much so that it seemed to have a life of its own.

As the music played, every bad and negative thought in my mind melted away and I was left with an overall feeling of carefree wonder, as if the Grand Archives somehow mystically made me feel better about the stupid industry I chose for a profession (yay journalism).

In short, the Grand Archives saved my life that night.

But the best part was sharing that feeling with the band. GA was genuinely surprised at the response they got in Boston, with Brooke saying “This is, by far, the biggest crowd we’ve ever had. Thanks so much. Really.”

And then when the shouts and screams got louder, a small smile crept up on his bearded face, causing him to look up and reveal (for a brief moment) a glimpse of joy in his eyes.

The show was amazing. If you know their music, you know there’s hardly a bad song in their catalog (despite only having an EP and one album). One highlight was “The Crime Window,” a natural sing-a-long song that had the crowd stomping their feet and screaming.

But the big surprise was hearing “Torn Blue Foam Couch.” I never realized how much this song rocked. The quiet opening gave way to Brooke and company pounding on their respective instruments as the crowd howled in excitement.

Grand Archives – Torn Blue Foam Couch
[audio:http://www.52shows.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/06/cimg4453.jpg]

Brooke then announced the band would play a “cheesy cover song” and proceeded to do “Another Saturday Night.”

SIS: “Hey! I know this song!” (she’s notorious for knowing songs and messing up lyrics)
ME: “Me too! I love this song! But wait…it’s not cheesy…is it?”

Grand Archives – Another Saturday Night
[audio:http://www.52shows.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/06/ws310166.mp3]

At that point I didn’t care anymore. The entire room was singing along and it felt that the good indie-rock feeling everyone created had a chance to make it to the streets.

*I did not take this picture…and I love her rabbit too.

Aside from her creepy video about clown love, (it’s probably the only song you know from her. It’s “The Way I Am”) I didn’t know much about Ingrid Michaelson and, to be honest, the girlfriend and I were going to see Ari Hest (NYC singer/songwriter who’s in the middle of a project called “52″ where he writes one song a week for a year).

So I was ill-equipped with information and assumed I was going to see a piano-driven show filled with songs about love. Like every experience I have in my life, I found I was totally wrong.

From the onset, Michaelson approached the mic on stage as her own personal therapist, talking about past relationships, her problems with drooling on planes and even testing out the various sounds on her keyboard that turned into an impromptu sing-a-long of Richard Marx’s “Right Here Waiting” (it’s true…you totally had to be there…oh wait, now you can).

[audio:http://www.52shows.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/05/ws310142.mp3]

When she wasn’t crooning along on stage, she was entertaining the audience with her personality and talking about her secret hobby of searching Youtube for fan videos of her songs.

So not only is the “Grid” a pretty girl with glasses, but she’s hilarious…making her my new music crush (for those who are keeping up, my previous one was with the girl in the Office…the band not the show).

This is the third time I’ve been surprised at a musician’s stage presence, straddling that line between singer and stand-up comedian. In Ingrid’s case (or her hip-hop name which she revealed was “Grid”) this worked in her favor.

Piano-driven songs are nice, but I can’t listen to it for an entire evening without wanting to nap. In Grid’s case, it was great to have these songs coupled with hilarious stories about her life, like this one about the time she fell asleep on a plane.

Drooling Story
[audio:http://www.52shows.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/05/ws310146.mp3]

I know. It’s hilarious and I want to give her a hug. The last time I experienced what Grid called “frivolous frivolity” at a concert was at Tegan & Sara, who have elevated the act of bantering with the audience to an art form.

Ingrid admitted that it was a strange night for her and that she was talking about things she normally doesn’t (like her ex-boyfriend). It’ s funny what a little comedy and audience interaction can do for a singer. And in Grid’s case, makes her stick out in a world that seems to be constantly churning out female singer-songwriters who write emotional ballads for Grey’s Anatomy.

Before, she was just another female singer/songwriter that seemed to be jumping on the I-wear-glasses bandwagon, but now whenever I hear her songs, all I remember is the comedy and laughing about her silliness. Maybe the future of albums should be adding little personality bits from the artist. Kind of like the skits on hip-hop albums, only funnier. Eh maybe not.

The girlfriend enjoyed her, even though it was past her bedtime (she’s a teacher) and, like me, only knew one song. Now we listen to album all the time and wonder if she’s still drooling on herself on airplanes (seriously, listen to that track. It’s a hilarious).

For now, I’ll leave you with the funniest moment of the night. It happened right after she sang “The Chain,” a song only available on her Myspace page.

(and hey, someone took video of it. I was told to put my camera away, mostly because the ushers at Berklee let people in the front section do whatever they want).

There’s a lyric in there that has her go “Glide away on soapy heels” and apparently people on Youtube have been covering it, but saying “Glide away and so be healed” (I think this is the video she was talking about).

Ingrid thought it was hilarious and, with one of her band members, did a song with the new lyrics in an epic, religious sort of way. After that, she went into a remix version of her hit “The Way I Am.” Again, both worth your time.

“The Chain” discussion and intro to “The Way I Am”
[audio:http://www.52shows.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/05/ws310154.mp3]

The Live Remix of “The Way I Am”
[audio:http://www.52shows.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/05/ws310155.mp3]

Ingrid Michaelson, I don’t care that you had creepy clowns in your video…I think I love you.