Bright Eyes, CocoRosie, Tilly and the Wall / Academy of Music, Philadelphia, PA / Jan. 28, 2005
Tilly and the Wall—in case you don’t know—are five wholesome, adorable Omaha kids who play sunny indie pop, and their gimmick is that all the percussion is a girl tap dancing. I like it, but I’m a sucker. They were much tighter than when I saw them at the Mercury Lounge last summer, and, of course, the sound was much better. So the complete lack of low end wasn’t so apparent.
When I saw CocoRosie at South By Southwest last year, it was two white girls and a bunch of crazy instruments seemingly found in somebody’s attic. David Sitek from TV on the Radio beatboxed on one song. This time, CocoRosie was two white girls, a bunch of crazy instruments seemingly found in somebody’s attic and a large black man wearing a Native American headdress. He beatboxed on every song except the last one, during which he rapped in French and tap danced (accompanied by the Tilly tap dancer). I am not making this up.
How could Bright Eyes top that? They couldn’t. Or maybe I’m just jaded because this was my seventh time seeing Bright Eyes. (Is that weird?) Conor and his six-piece band played mostly stuff from I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning, along with “Bowl of Oranges,” “Method Acting” and holyfuckingshit “A Scale, A Mirror and Those Indifferent Clocks” (yes, I’m a Fevers and Mirrors freak). He did “Lua” and “When the President Talks to God” solo-acoustic stylee and got all “rowdy” on the show-closing “Road to Joy”. They played for about an hour, and I think they wanted to play more, but some beefy guy came on stage right at and whispered in Conor’s ear, after which Conor said “Due to reasons beyond our control, this is our last song. They have to set up for The Nutcracker.” The funny part is that the last time I set foot in the
Personally, I’m happy that Conor is getting all this attention. He deserves it. I hope he sells millions of records and never leaves Saddle Creek, sells millions of concert tickets and never plays a Clear Channel venue.
After the concert, Daphne and I headed over to Transit for the rock and roll dance party Making Time. Death From Above 1979 were supposed to play but had to cancel due to illness or something (coincidentally, they were also supposed to play with Man Man in NYC on Thursday!) But it didn’t matter. Who needs a Canadian noise-metal band when you’ve got drunk Nick Sylvester waving devil horn hand signs above his head, jumping up and down yelling “WHOOOOO!!!” like he’s at an AC/DC concert every time the DJ spins a song he likes?