Strange
Day

My bar scars have mostly worn off. I picked them up on Monday night at the Black Cat, for a show by Juliette and the Licks. A good rock show by any definition. But some of the stuff going on around the show kind of stuck out. The Juliette headlineing this band is Juliette Lewis, of many, many seriously fucked up movies. I first heard her sing on the Strange Days soundtrack. And she’s pretty good. But they aren’t exactly on TRL yet.
So when they tell me at the door that I can’t use my camera, (I know!) I thought it was awfully conceited. The “no still photo” thing at concerts is pretty stupid to begin with, since it doesn’t actually affect the performers bottom line in any way. And for the most part, it can only build grass roots support. And I’ve never met a band yet that tries to sell their own concert photography. So… you know… whatthefuck? Especially from a third string band on their first US tour playing a second string club on a Monday night.
When the Licks finally come on stage around 10, the entire band came out and took their place except Lewis. She followed in an incredibly forced entrance after the band started playing. Her “show lines” came out like lead weights between songs. Only when she seemed to forget her lines, or stop caring about them, did she seem at all interesting or real.
The show only truly excelled when she shut the fuck up and started singing. Angry, skinny, little woman songs about being … well… and and horny. Good shit, that is. Thankfully that’s all that’s on the CD I picked up afterwards.
But you always pay for it the next morning. There really should be some service that comes around after club nights and picks up your laundry for you. That mixture of cheap cigarettes and expensive beer is nowhere near as charming the next day.