I arrived halfway through the opening band’s set and I have one valuable piece of advise for them: CHANGE YOUR NAME. They are a fun young band with amusing songs and a pleasing attitude; they sound a bit like the B-52’s and they sure should have a career but I, for one, had no interest in a band named Natalie Portman’s Shaved Head.
Lily stands center stage chain smoking cigarettes and giggling before telling us she wrote the next song for her mother though everyone thinks its for a guy thereby single handledly saving it from the lyrical banality I heard on “It’s Not Me, It’s You” . The song is “Chinese” and it’s a stellar version of a suddenly much sweeter song.
Actually, every song is an improvement, best of all Lily dancing furiously to a roaring “Back to The Start” and the band jamming hard. Even the acoustic portion was pretty good with “He Wasn’t there” a particular pleasure.
Lily is a very good live performer -she reminds me of Courtney Love in that they both give the appearance of intimacy where no intimacy exists. She takes off her hoodie and later a blouse leaving only a wife beater. “Can you see my nipples?” Lily ask (to quote Obama: yes we can), later still she flashes the audience. It’s cheeky not nasty, the set is all in white and Lily is so, ahem, innocent, she deserves the purity. Innocence is not synonymous with good: innocence means not knowing… there is something oblivious to Allen’s effects even as she manipulates them.
She encores with “Smile,” “The Fear” and “Womanizer” and it’s a knock out conclusion.
In the end Lily Allen doesn’t have potential, she has surpassed any question of potential. Who knows what tomorrow brings? Drugs are a tricky business as is celebrityhood, “It’s Not Me, It’s You” did not light up the charts (she should pull off another single -not “F– You”, a crap song and a lousy idea for an EP) and she should start the process of becoming a Long Term Artist. Having said all that, Lily Allen proved it all last night.
Next up? The Dead at MSG on Saturday. I am no Deadhead but I worship their two country-rock albums “American Beauty” and “Workingman’s Dead”. Having said that, I am too much a child of punk to give in entirely to jam bands; it feels self-indulgent to me even now. Still, Louis Armstrong taught me how to listen to Miles Davis and Miles Davis (on stuff like “Bitches Brew,” “Big Fun” and the awesome jazz-rock fusion “Black Magus”) taught me to listen to jam bands like Phish, the Allman Brothers and the Grateful Dead.
This will be my first Dead (Grateful or otherwise) concert and I haven’t dropped acid since I worked at “East Village Eye” in the early ’80s so here’s hoping for a flashback.
return to the top of country
Creem – America’s Only Rock ‘n’ Roll Magazine, Reviewed Issue By Issue – January 1983 (Volume 14, Number 8)
a cow with eighteen udders
“a journey through his life, passions, influences, and enduring legacy”
the true Godfather Giannini Russo
Has Brit rock ever been worse?
essence de 2023
A very percussive song
the mixes his producer Daniel Lanois didn’t like
her best since “Milionària”
dip yourself deep in sonic hellaciousness and disquiet