Yes! YES!

A few weeks ago, I ordered tickets to a Regina Spektor concert. I didn't have any friends in England just yet, so I only ordered one. I admit I considered selling the ticket for a little while. I foresaw myself sitting alone in a big auditorium, with my eyes to the floor, listening to a softly played rendition of "Samson" as all the fancy Oxford couples, slim of pant leg and long of hair, made out furiously to the left and right of me. Well, all that happened, but my eyes certainly weren't on the ground. They were watching her, in all her crooning, semitic glory. I will now describe the concert in extreme detail, not really for any of you, but because I forgot my camera and I want some record of this while my memory's still fresh.

The venue itself was gorgeous, in traditional Oxford style. A large pipe organ at the front (unused unfortunately), Grecian-style statuary carved into the walls and balcony, coats-of-arms engraved and painted against the balcony, and a big ol' rotunda above the stage with its own patterns and little stained windows (not stained glass, really, but still intricately designed) behind it. The last time I'd been to a real concert, not just a rock show in a tiny club but an honest-to-goodness rock concert, was about five years ago. Because of this I forgot about the terrible burden of the virtually-unknown opening act. This guy I had never heard of, and probably never will. Though it was just him up there, the boy decided to give himself a band name: Only Son. I guess this is a trend right now, solo artists giving themselves band names, kind of like Bright Eyes or...I dunno, someone else probably did that too but I can't think of anyone right now. He sported a big red afro, wore a brown v-neck sweater about two sizes two big, and had the posture of an osteoporotic turtle. His songs might as well have been him screaming "INDIE!!!" into the microphone for two minutes at a time. It was just him up there, like I said, performing with an acoustic guitar. But about three songs into his set this guy (who said virtually nothing, by the way, just introduced himself and would give a clipped little "thanks" every time the audience applauded) had the audacity, the sheer cojones, to whip out his iPod, stick it into the stereo system, and use that as his accompaniment. Excuse me, sir, you may not realize this, but this is a LIVE SHOW. If you wanted to play us the EP you recorded in your closet, perhaps you could have just given the guy at the sound board your CD and he would play them over the speakers for you. I know it's hard for you to make friends, but a back-up band really is crucial in these kinds of situations, I'm sorry. It's not all that hard to get a few musicians together when you're playing for a relatively established artist. Just put up some fliers at a few coffee-shops in Williamsburg saying "Drummer, bassist and Guitarist needed to open for Regina Spektor tour. Inquire at ImaBohemianGottaLoveMe@aol.com" Your phone would be ringing off the hook, I assure you.

Anyway, after that, Regina came on. She started with this song, I'd never heard it before, but it was kind of blues-y and was just her singing while she gently tapped the microphone for percussion. Then she went to the piano. One of the coolest things I've ever seen at a concert: a pianist playing the drums to her own song. I think the name of the song is Ode to Divorce: she had two drum sticks and she smacked them into a wooden chair as she played piano with her other hand. And it was pretty good. She's not Def Leppard in terms of her one-handed drumming abilities, but I'll be dammed if it wasn't cool to watch. Then she brought out her guitar, which I didn't know she played herself, and played this one song that I'd never heard before called "bobbing for apples." Best lyric of 2007 award: "The light fixtures are shaking/and someone's fucking to one of my songs." Okay, maybe not the best lyric, but certainly most-ironically-delivered-and-funny-while-also-being-very-sweet-and-endearing lyric award. A little more cumbersome title, but a more accurate one, I suppose.

She is the most adorable performer. When a PA came up to her and whispered something she said "Sorry, it's a secret." She tried a British accent and then said "Sorry, I always sound like Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins." She's just adorable. It's not even a sexual attraction. She's just someone I'd like to be good friends with, maybe hear her play a few songs or something.

Anyway, I have to write about Joyce now. Yes. Him.