"I'll be fine, just give me time." - Damien Rice, Older Cheats (O)
I'm trying to think of the defining moment of KCRW's Sounds Eclectic Evening Three (now an annual tradition here on the plantation). Was it the beauty and sadness of Damien Rice's melancholy Irish ballads? Was it Beck breaking into Nelly's "Hot in Herre" using only his fender rhodes and two old drum machines and then deftly switching back and forth between that and "Where It's At"? Maybe it was the far too short taste of the UK's Jem whose album has yet to be released anywhere but whose three song set was headnodding Brighton Street goodness. Perhaps it was the one hour party known as a Jurassic Five live show complete with turntablism from Cut Chemist and Numark, breakdancing, and a lively Chali 2na whose deep voice, bright lyrics, and very noticeable head scar are the highlights of the talented LA posse.
It might have even been the after party where Cut Chemist returned for a rare grooves set and then Felix Da Housecat rocked the dance floor with a very eighties-centric party mix. He opened with "Off the Wall" included Prince's "Controversy" and took us on an electroclash journey somewhere in between. The Lovely Miss Anna Baby and I drank free drinks, made nice with strangers (particularly the 2 older couples dancing the night away in the cold outside the tent), outclassed all other dancers, and were told we were just the cutest by two funky chicks.
We are Mr. and Ms. Cute 2003 but, you know, it is nice for others to notice. We're going to try for sexy on the '04 but I digress.
No, the defining moment of this night was The Spree.
The Polyphonic Spree. 24 people took the stage in white robes looking like a high school band on an acid trip. Indeed, that might be exactly what Tim DeLaughter was going for when he started the group. With a running video of filmed images behind them, The Polyphonic Spree don't so much perform as they happen. Like catching the spirit from the choir in a southern baptist church, the Spree's chamber-pop songs about The Sun and Smiling and Being Alive and Never Growing Up explode onto the soul of those willing to let it in. They shake and grin and point and dance and simply encourage joy. The French Horn player rocks with funk and soul. The Tamborine player shakes and dances with reckless abandon. The choir twists in chaotic unison. And Tim DeLaughter precides over it all with a wistful smirk and sporadic arm-waving.
And it fills you up.
And you, too, want to reach for the sun.
Hey it's the Sun
and it makes me shine
all around all around
hey now it's the Sun
and it makes me smile
all around all around!
Damn, I'm in love with a radio station.