This isn’t a gig, it’s a communion.
Amanda Fucking Palmer. This isn’t a gig, it’s a communion.
Something to do with believing in the power of music.
Amanda Palmer’s reading of ‘Polly’ is quietened, a spooked horror show, a creepy music box after-the-event version
Once there was no “three songs, no flash” rule, now it’s industry standard in all but the small, local shows. Once there were no releases. Once there were no copyright-grabbing contracts.
She’s got something. Not sure what. Earnestness. Arrogance. Innocence. A capacity for self-promotion. An unblinking gaze. The video signifies, “A retelling of the Apollo-Daphne-Cupid story with a home made tree and paper hearts”. In case you wondered. (I wonder if she likes Bat For Lashes as well as Amanda Palmer? Hardly matters. She’s way more […]
Animal Collective played Brisbane recently. I’d already spilled a mug of beer of my Pet Sounds CD, so I didn’t feel the need to duplicate the effect twice. I skipped across the Valley to where Patrick Wolf was putting on a stadium rock show – three costume changes! – in front of 100 people. He […]