Return of the Jayhawks

The Jayhawks took a while to get going last night. Or maybe I did, because it was so weird to be at a show and not drinking.
Is it so wrong that virtually every concert-going experience I've had has been influenced by alcohol? Perhaps, perhaps not, but one thing's for sure: a drink or two does help dull the irritation caused by standing in a packed, hot room, being regularly knocked around by people pushing past you and deciding to stand right in front of you. The band's job is to lift you past that irritation, and eventually they did.
I still think it's all about Gary Louris, he's a better guitar player, and his voice is really the essence of their sound. Plus his songs, of course. The best ones are all his, as I discovered years ago when he did a solo show at the Horseshoe and sang them all. Still, they have some lovely harmonies and I liked the keyboard player. No self-consciousness, no attitude, no turning their backs on the audience or hiding behind their fabulous haircuts—just letting the songs stand on their own. God, I love unfashionable bands!

Blood and Feathers

I guess I can see how some people found Black Swan too over the top... it was outrageous, but I completely and utterly enjoyed the ride. It's kind of like a female version of Fight Club—something that delves into and picks apart (sometimes literally... ouch) our ideas of femininity the way Fight Club poked around in mens' psyches. Ballet is pretty much the perfect vehicle for it, since it's where women have to starve themselves, torture their bodies and never get old in order to succeed. And that's not even counting the nasty and psychotic storylines most classical ballets have.
I loved the way Darren Aronofsky borrowed from Polanski, Cronenberg and Hitchcock, loved all the mirrors and the creepy subway tunnels and the scary bunnies and the way the faces switched back and forth. Awesome, and Natalie Portman deserves the Oscar which she will presumably get.