Saltbreaker

Haahaahahaaha, screw you 100 Club, not only did I take a picture of the band, I also took a picture of your stupid sign, hahahaahahaa, I am anarchy incarnate!

Anyhoo, Laura Veirs eh? First of all this is not my musical genre of choice, not even sure what to call it, Indie chick folk rock perhaps. The crowd at the 100 Club look like a panel from Ghost World come to life, lots of earnest bespectacled boys clutching journals and er, strong women, bristling with equality. Laura herself has the old Speccy Seattle Kook Thing(TM) going for her and she wears it well. Her atonal angst-lite voice washes over us like the waves she constantly references in her songs and apart from the odd idiot demanding 'the single', her acolytes are generally a passive lot. The occasional 'whoo' cuts out from the front row as Loz strums an old favourite, and I am shushed by my companion She-Jay, for mock whooing in response. She-Jay speaks fluent Indie and eats kookflakes for breakfast, so is able to guide me through the intricacies of each plaintive cry. The Saltbreakers themselves are sporting curiously embroidered jackets and effectively re-produce the unobtrusive noise that floats behind Loz on the new album. Sometimes though, as I jerked back into reality from one of a number of micro sleeps, I wished they would let loose a bit more. Bless though, this was their first gig of the tour and I'm sure they'll be burning their geetars and playing piano with their feet by the end.

Note to Stephen Merchant (who is no doubt reading this blog and taking notes) your quest for a she-jay for your podcast has ended. As you can vaguely discern from the pointillist picture above, my She-Jay has all the rock chick attitood and Indie nous you could possibly want, and she's tall, call me now Stephen, call me!

B