The truth comes out!

So, I saw Rufus Wainwright and Ben Folds at Wolf Trap last night. Also Guster, but they weren't that good.

Rufus is adorable-- like if Danny Strong were gay, Canadian and a singer. So, not very much like Danny Strong at all, then, but still very cute in that way that makes you want to put him in your pocket and take him home with you. He did a lovely cover of "Hallelujah," and a bunch of his own stuff, which I'm not too familiar with. And then he brought his mom out to play the piano, while he sang "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" and I died of cute.

Guster was, as I said, meh. It was fun to watch the crowd for all six of the really big Guster fans, though-- there were two girls a few rows ahead of us who'd made matching, glitter-painted Guster T-shirts. And they only sang along with their two most popular songs.

Ben Folds was amazing, as usual, though it was a shorter set than we'd expected. He didn't play "Best Imitation of Myself," or even "Brick" or "Rockin' the Suburbs," and he didn't really tell stories in between songs, but *damn* can he play. He did a bunch of new material, plus "Army," "Evaporated" (which I love) and a few of others. Then he brought Rufus out for a duet, and I died, yet again, of cute. He closed with "Not the Same," which I also love, though not as much as "Still Fighting It," dammit.

In conclusion: soulful boys with pianos: hot. Vaguely fratty guys with emo hair? Not so much. Shut up, Guster, and let Ben have the longer set.

He did a lovely cover of "Hallelujah,"

I am quite nearly writhing in jealousy here.

I am quite nearly writhing in jealousy here.

Yeah, you should be. He also wore cowboy boots in honor of Wolf Trap's proximity to Washington, and a little scarf tied around his neck. He's appallingly cute.

When I saw him in Boston, he played early on a Sunday night at a club that has a gay night on Sundays. So the staff (who were standing right behind me) were just beside themselves: "Look at how queer he is!" "I hope he stays tonight for the dancing. I want to dance with him." "He's so cute!". Thankfully they were polite enough to keep their effusiveness contained to the space between songs.

In my case, I would be writhing with jealousy if Rufus Wainwright's mother had performed more. I love the McGarrigles.

I was so disappointed that they didn't sing with Nick Cave on his most recent tour. Two albums ago they were basically part of the Bad Seeds and their vocals really added something spectacular to the album.

I'm going to be the new keyboardist/noise guy/all-around johnny-on-the-spot for The Soft Set, Austin's own Belle & Sebastian-like twee-poppers. I'm sort of like Brian Eno but with fewer feather boas.

Sounds like ity was a great show, Holli. We almost went, but I work late on Tuesdays and didn't want to ask for more time off.

Must see Rufus someday.

I think I'm the CD swap bottleneck. I received a package from erinaceous and was in the process of making a copy for msbelle when the door burst open and two jackbooted thugs--one male, one female--knocked me over and ripped the CD out of my computer. She tasered me while he graffitied my walls: "Dean Olsher sucks" and "The Next Big Thing is for subliterate morons" and "John Wayne's a fag" (the last eliciting a nasal "He is not!" from her, to which he responded, also nasally, "He is too, you boys! I went to Brentwood to install two-way mirrors and he came to the door in a dress." She roared with laughter, tasered me again and they did various scenes from Repo Man for the next fifteen minutes. They especially enjoyed the "What about our relationship?" scene, tasering me whether or not I gave the proper response, namely "Fuck that!"). They were disguised, but there was no mistaking the voices: I had just had my ass kicked by Ira Glass and Sarah Vowell. Who would want to admit to that? And I would have kept it quiet, but since I lost the CD along with my dignity and thereby screwed up the sacred Buffistamix flow I have decided to own up to my shame. Why should I be ashamed of getting caught in the crossfire of internecine PRI squabbling? I shouldn't... but getting one's assed kicked by Sarah Vowell is one thing, getting it kicked by Ira Glass is a whole 'nother level of embarassment.