Patrick Wolf at the London Palladium!

I. London
I've never done anything like this before. I've always wanted to, but, I never had the money to do it. I STILL don't have the money, but.. I felt this sense of urgency. I wanted to have this experience. I wanted the chance to show my support. After some financial planning and discussion I booked two tickets to London. I scored two 11th row center stall seats for Patrick Wolf at the London Palladium! I'm going to England!

The trip over was easy and exciting. I'd never been to England- and Dave, my love of SEVEN YEARS has never been outside the US- hell- he's never been on a plane! This trip was about new beginnings and celebrations. That's the terms Dave and I agreed upon. This trip was a gift to each other celebrating our births, our 7 year anniversary, and our holidays. We would give each other what we wanted...

We went for a stroll in the infamous English rain. We ate copious amounts of delicious pub food. We saw Westminster Abbey, the House of Parliament, Big Ben, The London Eye, Buckingham Palace, and Tower Bridge. We went to record shops where I bought some rare nine inch nails vinyls. We saw the Rosetta Stone, and the fine art of Michelangelo, DaVinci, Klimt, Titian, and Reubans... we even discovered a new artist- Jose Guadalupe Posada. I shared a new experience in a new land with the love of my life and it only got better from there.

After a day of seeing Tower Bridge and exploring the impressively creative Spitafields in the East End (Brooklyn EAT YOUR HEART OUT) we hopped on the Tube and headed to the Palladium Theatre just outside Oxford Circus. We were weary from a long fun-filled day... but I couldn't help but be excited!!

We stepped inside the building and I was immediately entranced by its regal beauty. It was as if I was transported back in time to a nobler era where more interesting and well dressed people roamed! The swells of avant garde androgynist people commingled with extravagant feathered dames were all about me, drinking cocktails and jabbering away excitedly. The anticipation was palpable. We finally made our way to our seats and I had a moment of sheer euphoria when I realized how close we were.

"I hope he sees me" is all I kept thinking to myself as the lights went down and the sound of Patrick Wolf's music began.

II. Patrick Wolf at the London Palladium


The sound of "Divine Intervention" and Patrick's haunting voice filled the Palladium. The curtains drawn and I take a breath- I hadn't realized I'd been holding it! There are countless musicians surrounding the Gypsy Boy who is beautifully adorned in all his couture finery this evening. There are two cellists, four violinists, 3 choir girls, a sound tech, drummer, bassist, guitarists, and also some VERY special guests this evening. As they all took position and began to play- tears immediately sprung in tiny diamond shaped drops upon my eyes... "Overture" one of the greatest opening songs of my lifetime is what he chose to open with! With the tears welling up, my lips silently mouthing out the words, a hand upon my heart, and by body moving towards the edge of my seat I absorbed every note like a flower to sunlight. Simply put, this song in this gilded antique theatre with my lover at my side in this ancient yet progressively modern city was the best opening song of my life!

Then, like the ocean, the second wave of song came. "Wolfsong". I have a strange bond with this particular tune. For its love and worship of Artemis and her Luna-tics is something I identify with greatly. The tears continued to flow and my hand stayed firmly upon my heart and neck. I wept that much harder as "and don't be afraid of the dark because the darkness is simply a womb for the lonely" was bellowed out. The mark of a great songwriter, for me, is when their words are the very thing I've been trying to say all these years and their music is the complexity of my emotions that can never be put into prose. Patrick Wolf is the voice in my head and the feelings within me fully formed and articulated into a beautiful young man and spirit. He is also my teacher and colleague.

I say all this, because "Wind in the Wires" was the first song of Patrick's that both broke and mended my heart simultaneously... and it came on immediately following "Wolfsong". Clearly, he was trying to make me ruin my makeup! The tears just keep flowing out of me, my emotions too great for my body to bear. I've never been so wistful in all of my life at a concert! Now, I've been an hysterical WRECK and I pull that off with panache- but WISTFUL? It's not usually my style, it's not even something that even looks appropriate with my overbearing personality... or so I thought. Thank you, Patrick, for teaching me that I can be wistfully romantic and not feel like a fool.

After that triad of emotional songs, my heart was on the mend as Patrick picked up the tempo with one of my favorite tracks from his album The Bachelor, "Oblivion". With this set list, I displayed classic signs of schizophrenia- merely one song ago I was wistful and nostalgic- now I find myself pounding away at my chest and attempting desperately NOT to growl or shout! This song has too much energy and fury to contain... it felt so odd to sit and thrash about but I felt strange enough being a New Yorker in London without adding the awkward obviousness of my physical energy plus- if I stood and danced I would've spoiled the view of the person behind me and concert etiquette overrules any rash impulse I might have been feeling.

Luckily, we didn't stay seated for the entire show. The familiar electronic drones of "Hard Times" commenced a little past the halfway mark of the set and I knew then and there that this was the opportunity to stand and give back some of the energy Patrick bequeathed upon me! The crowd responded milliseconds after a few girls and I stood and with that ovation- the tempo of the show IMMEDIATELY transformed. It was as if the show finally disrobed itself of it's stuffy waspy upbringing and it quickly became a true rock concert.

The show played songs that are quintessential to Patrick's short though prolific career. All tracks were glorious whether morose, active, romantic, or playful. The special appearances only further contributed to the charm of the performance. The title track of his most recent album "The Bachelor" is perhaps one of the most powerful ballads of the record and was meant to be a duet. I am glad to say that it was performed as it was intended when the enigmatic Florence Welch of Florence + The Machine took the stage and belted out the lines of "The Spinster" with gusto. It was undoubtedly one of the greatest performances of the evening. Not to be ignored is the enchantingly beautiful "Voice of Hope" as performed by the leggy beauty Gwendoline Christie, her rich and throaty voice was the live superior version Tilda Swinton's vocal performances in such tracks as "Oblivion" and "Theseus", and her silent breathtaking performance with Patrick during "Damaris" had the longing tears coming back again to my weary eyes. The addition of the incredibly handsome Alec Empire made this one of the most diverse and eccentric shows of my concert going life. With every rash throng of electro-clash competing against the harmony of the string section I felt like I was first witnessing a war of sound, then immediately transported into a rowdy peace rally!

Like a shot of adrenalin to my already overactive heart, Patrick's costume changes were the VERY touch of the dramatic that I needed! There was an adorable yet dark & foreboding leather wolf hood, the playful glittery black cloak- which later revealed a porcupine spiked top, then on to a brilliant white pair of spats with a matching Manray-esque cello piece (I think...?) ALL covered in glitter, and my personal favorite- a reflective mirrored top hat with a side of ULTRA reflective fringe~! The show was feel good and feel melancholic, and very much the very nature of love for me. It ended with the "Magic Position" and Patrick at the grand piano, recalling that, 10 years ago, he was outside the London Palladium hysterically crying because he couldn't get in to see Bjork. Now, Patrick is the one on stage at the famous London institution with his family in the boxes (he even pointed and they waved) and his dear friends and fans in the stalls and rafters. He got choked up and said something like "I'm going to cry!!" which made ME feel better about being so weepy. The sentiment was well appreciated, especially by my love and aspiring musician, Dave, who leaned over and whispered into my ear "Wow, that gives me hope..." Hope was the word etched into my heart that night. I am happy to tell you it's still there.


III. Waiting

The glorious show finally ended. We waited for the crowds to dissipate before we began to make our trek back to the hotel. We stood outside, talking about the show and what we thought. We started to walk towards the Tube... when I slowed in my tracks and asked Dave for a favor. "Do you mind if we go towards the back stage entrance and check things out? I know Patrick comes out and greets the fans that wait out there..." This is how I know I picked the right guy- jet-lagged beyond BELIEF and ACHING for bed, he sighed once, and said something like, "OK, it's your vacation too- if that's what you want to do..." So, we walked over to the side entrance where there were about 75 people in various "wolf-ian" fashion waiting excitedly. I always wanted to wait after a show to try to catch a glimpse of a musician, maybe get an autograph- but I never had the chance- there was always work or school or some absurd responsibility holding me back from doing it. I was on VACATION I had no where to I had to go the next day- this was my only chance to do something like this! So... we waited.

and waited.

It got colder. The crowd dissipated. Dave found a folding chair, bundled up, and attempted to sleep. I left him be, moving anxiously from foot to foot. We saw a lot of activity, the stage hands breaking the set down, the musicians slowly filtering out and heading home... Victoria Sutherland, Patrick's right hand lady and violinist popping in and out of the door for a smoke and a chat... but no Mr. Wolf. About an hour in I began to get gnawed away by guilt. "This is SO selfish of me. Look at Dave- he's freezing and exhausted and I am making him SIT HERE just so I can catch a glimpse of one of my favorite musicians! We should just go..." but my interior monologue couldn't budge me from that stairwell. My mind was losing hope, but my body was resolute. My guilt clashed wildly with my interest. "It's already been an hour and fifteen minutes... what's fifteen more, really?"

Then, as I was about to abandon hope, the door opened, and a tall lean man with a mop of platinum blonde hair, wearing a black leather wolf hood emerged with a sharpie in one hand and a glass of white wine in the other, smiling brightly and saying "Hello!". I was SO glad I waited.

As he came closer, he looked each person in the eye... and when his eyes met mine, I was pleasantly surprised to see recognition in his stare- he smiled sheepishly and said, "Hi!". I won't lie to you, it made me feel warm and fuzzy. Everyone cued up and an impromptu meet and greet began. A hearty handshake, and a beaming smile was given to every fan Patrick came in contact with- his graciousness tangible. That's the thing about Patrick Wolf that will undoubtedly carry him directly into the arms of superstardom- anyone who comes into direct contact with him automatically feels like the most special person on Earth, when he looks at you and smiles and asks how you are and where you're from- it makes you feel that you mean something to him and that he cares about you and is interested in what you have to say, all of it genuine, all of it so incredibly pleasing.

I stood off to the side, waiting patiently for my opportunity to say hello and take a picture. I heard a little chat about how he FINALLY found a well made ukulele, and surprisingly, there was a lot of people from Belgium! A very nice young man next to me, said, "After you" and I moved in towards Patrick. The recognition from the music video, the concerts, and twitter all accumulated into this one moment... for as I approached I was met with his big beaming smile.

Without any hesitation Patrick swooped in- wrapped his arms around me and in an exasperatied whisper said "KRISSY!!!". I didn't know what sheer GLEE felt like until that very moment. I'm blushing even now from the kindness of his hug! He managed to make ME feel like the rock star- something that I got to say, felt pretty damn good. From there we launched straight away into a nice little chat. The formalities of "How are you?" turned quickly into a brief review about mine and Dave's first trip to London. We also talked about the show- and how much I loved it, incidentally I asked if it got recorded- and YAY it did, here's hoping it gets released! Patrick recommended we go to the London Dungeon apparently one of his favorite tourist traps in the city... there's more but I kind of went deaf and had "Dream Weaver" playing in my head while he spoke. The night ended with photographic evidence of the encounter and one more electro-charged Patrick Wolf hug before Dave and I hailed a cab and made our journey home to Kensington.

Euphoria from this memorable night, and this incredible trip is still humming through my whole nervous system. This entire year was no doubt the Year of Madame K, and as Patrick Wolf said as we departed, "Happy Christmas, and see you in 2010!".

IV. The Setlist

Divine Intervention
Overture
Wolf Song
Wind In The Wires
Oblivion
Paris
Theseus
Who Will?
The Shadowsea
Bluebells
Pigeon Song
Thickets
The Bachelor
Epilogue
Noise Interlude
Count Of Casualty
Battle
Hard Times
Damaris
The Libertine
Tristan
Eulogy
The Magic Position
The Sun Is Often Out
Vulture

A Crime Against My Car and the Radio

It was late Monday night when the train I was on pulled into my train station in Long Island. My bags were heavy, and I was weary from a long day at work, and even more weary from a long weekend guest starring as "booth babe" at the Comic Convention in support of My Dear Man, Dave Fox.

My car, a 99 Red Volkwagon I've lovingly nicknamed Lucy, was sitting in the lot over the long weekend, just waiting for her owner to take her home. I was wary of leaving her there all weekend, but I chalked it up to paranoia. As I descended the staircase and began my brief journey to the car, I slowly began to feel a strange overturning in my stomach. I began to shake a little, and again, chalked it up to paranoia. I kept my keys out, the point sticking out between my balled up fingers like a little switch blade (a technique my also-paranoid mother taught me) and began to approach my lonely
little wagon. The closer I got, the more apparent it became...

Fragments of broken glass was scattered all around the passenger side of the car, a damp and dirty towel had been stuck into the door, there was a gaping hole where my passenger side window should've been. As I slowly began to piece together what had happened, I realized, my Sirius XM Radio had been stolen. My car was violated and I had been robbed!

I began tearing up on the spot, and repeated "Oh MAN" (and several various profanities) several THOUSAND times as I attempted to let the reality of the occurrence sink in. As I walked over to the driver's side, I saw a note by a police officer had been written to me, saying that they had taken a report. It gave me a little comfort. I opened the door first checking for broken
shards of glass and collapsed in a miserable heap inside my car. (I know this is dramatic, but, I'd never had anything this shitty happen to me before!)

It was then that I noticed all the broken bits of glass commingled with the emptied contents of my glove compartment, all my silly little chachkies strewn about, my dashboard Ganesha ripped off it's shrine and discarded, and all the wires attached to my Sirius Radio ripped and sticking out at odd angles throughout my car. The bastards.

There is literally only ONE thing of any remote value in my pathetic ride, and that was my radio. I received it as a VERY considerate gift less than a year ago for my birthday AND Christmas. I am in my car everyday for short spurts, but whenever I am, I'm sure to have my Sirius on and blasting, noting any new awesome tunes on the XMU indie channel, getting nostalgic on
the all 90's station Lithium, or rocking out to the 80's new wave station First Wave. What those sons of bitches have stolen from me, is the one little luxury I could actually afford (after, of course receiving the initial unit it as a gift).

I felt violated, betrayed, and let down. My own little home town has idiotic criminals running about! On top of everything else, my poor car Lucy has been put through A LOT this year- with over 125,000 miles on her, she's been falling apart both cosmetically AND internally. SHE didn't deserve this! WE DIDN'T deserve this!! And, honestly, what did this idiots think they'd FIND in a busted up 99 Volks? I want to know! She's got TWO missing hubcaps, a huge scratch up the drivers side door, missing cup holders, and TOYS inside!

You know what you WON'T find in there? ANYTHING OF ANY REAL VALUE! Even the Sirius radio- or at least the parts they took- won't function properly because they didn't take the whole thing! MORONS!

There is a happy ending for my little red lady bug and your humble narrator, however. I called Sirius to cancel my subscription, since, obviously I couldn't listen anymore. When they got around to asking me WHY I was canceling the service, I told them, "well my car got broken into and it was stolen". The customer service rep gasped and apologized for my misfortune, then offered me a brand new unit plus installation and 2 months free service if I would keep my subscription. Uhhh... YES PLEASE. The new unit came within 2 days! It's not as fancy as my original unit, but, I appreciate it none the less (and this one is BLACK!). Even better, it turns out my insurance has full glass coverage. Thank you Geico.

So, in the very end, this cost me nothing but momentary heartache, and a little bit of inconvenience... But it brought up an interesting point for me. I never realized how much I really care about the ambient noise playing on in the background of my car, or how much I really DO love Car Kareoke! Or how I revel at the thrill and rush of excitement when one of my favorite songs, whether new or old comes on the radio. My car is a quintessential part of my music experience, and to have it taken away from me, albeit momentary, made me realize the true value of it.

So, dear friends, show some love and care for your car. Always remember that your car, no matter how low-end or first class it is- that it brings you to new exciting places, takes you home, it makes important runs to the 7-11 all while keeping you thoroughly entertained with the gift of music. Your car is an extension of your home, of your own personality, not just simply a giant radio on wheels (as I had previously treated it).

Fever Ray at Webster Hall

With all the players of the group masked, enrobed in black cloaks, shrouded in darkness with pulsating antique lamps reflecting the rhythm of the music, Fever Ray is somber, other worldly, and pleasantly strange. Sporadic laser beams gave off an eerie green light that cut through the blackness, which only created more of a strange dark chaos rather than providing light. The sound made your sternum shake, your eyes water, and your breath slow down into a thick molasses. I noticed that most of the crowd fell into sort of a hypnotic trance. Normally I wouldn't condone such "zombified" behavior but, it seemed far too fitting to the environment of the show to argue it. This music's maker and her sound will leave your breath taken, and your soul haunted.

Performance Art and Concerts are becoming more cohesive. The craft of Performance Art has been interlocked with Music for years and years now... but it usually seems haphazardly slapped together or too gimmicky, PLUS it costs you too much money. What Fever Ray did to its audience was cryptic, futuristic, intriguing, and affordable. Karin Dreijer Andersson and her songs are a modern mystery of the music industry, an enigma that transcends gender, perhaps even humanity.

My camera does LITTLE justice to what I witnessed and what I witnessed does the show even LESS justice then what people up front must have seen. However, what I missed in vision, I made up for in experience. Having climbed 10 Feet onto the massive speakers to the left of the stage in Webster Hall, we had a strange elevated and unmolested view of the theater and its inhabitants. I felt as if we were stowaways to some high holy Nordic ceremony, where we could be potentially skinned alive and served as a sacrifice to the Gods if we were caught watching. Luckily, we were never discovered, and we were fortunate enough to have heard and witnessed the rants of the high priestess and her minions- shrunken heads, dervishes, laser beams, devil sticks, and all.

As mysteriously as Fever Ray has appeared, they shall cease to exist after this tour. All I can say to this is I am glad I went. If they cease to create music we will be robbed of something truly interesting. On the upside- maybe the Knife or something just as equally progressive from Karin will emerge and tour soon.

The Set List:
If I Had a Heart
Triangle Walks
Concrete Walls
Seven
I'm Not Done
Now's the Only Time I Know
Keep The Streets Empty
Dry and Dusty
Stranger Than Kindness (Nick Cave Cover)
When I Grow Up
Here Before (Vashti Bunyan Cover)
Coconut

A Rant.

For me, pre-game adventures are an intrinsic part of the concert going experience. I don't mention them much, but I feel inclined to briefly discuss the events preceding the Fever Ray concert I attended this past Tuesday night. To start, I walked from my office in the Flatiron District, all the way down the brink of the Lower East side to justify the food and drink I was about to consume. I arrived at my destination, Prune, to meet my two concert cohorts and a friend for the evening. Prune has been recently made famous by toting the honor of "The Best Bloody Mary in all of NYC". I dually noted that there was a burger and Bloody Mary special for the "affordable" price of $15. So, I ordered it, and... YEAH it was a joke. Go there to drink a Bloody Mary and go somewhere else to eat! The "Burger" was a SLIDER, one singular slider, with a small serving of McDonald-esque fries! Although it was a tasty little ping-pong sized ball of meat- I couldn't BELIEVE I spent more than a few bucks on it! I mean, HONESTLY Prune, do you think you will stay in business with absurdly pretentious food, mediocre drinks, and a LOUSY wait staff?! Eh, you probably will. NYC is dumb that way...

OK. Rant over. Now, onward to discuss the evening spent in the serpentine labyrinth that is Webster Hall.

Fever Ray...

The most mysterious band I've ever seen..

On m'way in!

Nine Inch Nails "Wave Goodbye"

There were many emotions that I went through during the course of this whole "wave goodbye" tour.

1. Denial and Isolation: When Trent Reznor announced that this was to be his last tour, I simply couldn't accept what I was hearing. I spoke to no one about the inevitable "end". My interior monologue with Trent Reznor went something along the lines of "OK OK, but you'll still make music, right? I mean, eventually you're going to get the itch, and you'll HAVE to tour, right? You have to. You'll be back, go ahead, get married, prosper, have babies, then go on tour with your wife and kids! It'll be great- just like you never left. There's no way that August 26th 2009 at Terminal 5 is Nine Inch Nails last show in NYC...ever.

2. Anger: This LITERALLY happened to me as the the final show at Terminal 5 came to a close. "What the FUCK? Why the fuck did I wait in line for 6 hours? What a shitty way to end touring in NYC- with a COVER?! YOU DON'T FUCKING END the LAST NIN show in NYC with a fucking COVER and a PRACTICALLY IDENTICAL fucking set list! FUCK YOU, TRENT! I am SO disappointed! I'm so fucking over it. I can't believe I fucking wasted 16 years of my life loving you. GRAHH!"

3. Bargaining: "If ONLY I had gone to more shows! THEN he wouldn't leave b/c he'd see how much more financial gain there is to touring! Why didn't I tour Europe with them when I had the chance to? I deeply regret not seeing the Peaches/Bauhaus/Nine Inch Nails shows more than once. WHY GOD WHY DIDN'T I TRY HARDER TO GET IN TO THE BOWERY and WEBSTER SHOWS!! Maybe, if I fly to California, I can make it to a few last minute shows, that way I can drag it out more, it doesn't have to be over, not yet!" No, No, No. NO! Maybe if I re-buy all the albums, a few more shirts, start an on-line petition...

4. Depression: I awoke the morning after the final Terminal 5 show. I was sore, exhausted, and numb. There was a distinct ringing in my ears, and a swelling in my throat. The swelling rapidly transformed itself into a lump, the lump into an infection. I had somehow contracted an infection as a result of the nine inch nails shows. The epidemic swept across the entire audience who had attended both NYC shows. They call it the "NINFLUENZA". Very funny, until it gives you "parotitus" or a salivary gland infection. The doctor asked if I had been recently dehydrated for an extended amount of time. "Why, yes, as a matter of fact, I was living in a SWEAT LODGE also known as a nin concert for two days, would that do it?" Yes. Yes it would. I'm hurt, frankly. Injured literally and figuratively. I am so depressed that Trent has left me, and worse, he has left me while I am sick with disease. I have been laying around with a case of the Mondays every day of the week.

5. Acceptance: I know that I have finally reached this final and oh-so important stage. How do I know this? Well, I FINALLY posted this blog. I had most of this draft written the day after the show... but I just COULD NOT face it. Every time I would sign on and attempt to write the rest of it, I would go through stages 1-4 all over again. It pained me to look at it and see the phrase "Wave Goodbye". I couldn't even go on to nin.com and look at its content, frozen in time since September 4th. Now, it's like the world has rebooted. I am listening to "other" music again, even have gotten excited about other artists. I will always hold nine inch nails near and dear to my heart, they will most likely stay my favorite band of all time, but I accept that this is my cue to move on- find other amazing live shows.

So, for all my web savvy gurus I leave you with this nugget:
There's only so many times a person can refresh a page before they have to close it... or at least open a new window.

Goodbye Nine Inch Nails... thanks for all the laughter, tears, and raucous head banging. I will miss it.