Robyn's show held with tradition on this tour, and wowed all in attendence. If the audience's fervor did not, as Eddie prognosticated, reach Beatlemania-esque heights, our own
appreciation was every bit as heartfelt.

But I have put the hoist in front of my petard, so to speak. The Departure Lounge were excellent, excellent to the extent that I bought two copies of their album, to make sure that no one who would otherwise suffer for want of one could, uh, get their hot little mits on a copy. Tim mentioned the last time he and Robyn played in Portland, two years earlier, and how someone had sent him a tape of his performance at that show. He said that the applause for that show had been louder than he had, and that listening to that tape always made him feel good.

Then Robyn came on, and did Mexican God, a diptych from Queen Elvis, and Insect Mother. He seemed happy, and at ease, and he took the opportunity of having the stage to himself to digress gloriously. He talked about how Pope Pious VI had ordered Las Vegas built by religious gangsters in 1147 (due to an (repeatedly mispronounced) enormous budgetry surplus), and how nuns and monks would have fun Fridays where they'd let a few monks into the convent and they'd all boogie. He carried on a conversation with an imaginary assistant director who'd interject periodically to correct his monologues. It was fun, and I laughed loud and long. But there was a point to it, too. There were 3 digital video cameras set up at various locations in the venue for the purpose of filming some kind of concert video, as Eddie reports.

Then the band started to trickle in. Tim and Robyn riffed on chips and Shirley Bassey. The bassist, Jake, came in for I Saw Nick Drake. As their numbers swelled, Robyn's loquacity dimished -- it seems a lesson well learned from his Egyptians days, when Morris and Andy never knew when to be ready for the next song.

Shortly, Kimberley and Lindsey came on. I really like Lindsey's drum kit -- it's small-ish, but it's got lots of different pads and very little redundancy. Sometimes you see these kits that have a wall of snares, but don't do anything for you in terms of variety. He sometimes seemed to be playing 3 instruments at once, both from the sounds he was making, and just from looking at him.

Anyway, there were Kimberley and Lindsey (neither one a woman, interestingly) taking the stage, and the mob of them proceeded to spin the Cheese Alarm to end all Cheese Alarms. Robyn's had something of a stock intro to this song, Eddie tells me, a tale of a mano-e-mano dairy dispute, a duel to the death over a pile of curd. Last night, Robyn put this ever intensifying tale over the instrumental intro to Cheese Alarm, and the effect was electrifying. Kim's guitar flourishes punctuated the escalating conflict perfectly, and both reached a crescendo at the same time. In one song, it turned my idea of Robyn -- formulated largely over 7 years of solo acoustic shows -- on its head, but in a good way.

At this point, a couple of nice hippies (I talked to them after the show) were dancing on the side aisle, but that was about it. The Aladdin isn't a very dance friendly venue. There's his huge moat between the audience and the stage, and if you want to dance, you're as much on display as the performers, which can make one rather self conscious. Viv and Jeme were making motions of wanting to get up and move, but couldn't quite seem to overcome their inertia. Finally, in the middle of Sinister But Happy (for which, I might add, Kimberly's guitar filled in admirably for Deni's violin), I couldn't hold it in any longer, and I got up and started dancing. Robyn commented that we could feel free to vibrate internally or lurch on the outside. That opened the floodgates. Four or so more people came down, and two songs later Viv and Jeme exploded out of their seats to the opening notes of Queen of Eyes. There where a dozen and a half people up front by the end of it, which is pretty impressive for his following. Everyone seemed like a pretty good dancer, too. Viv even did her cute little Viva Sea-Tac dance, but her heart didn't seem to be in it.

The rest of the concert maintained an impressive energy the rest of the way out, even in You & Oblivion where it manifested itself as concentrated intensity. In the first encore, Eddie requested Philosopher's Stone, which they obliged. That's a really good song, but they put way too much delay on the vox. Still, I think Star for Bram is going to be quite an album.

But until then, I've got the soundboard recording I made of the show. It turned out fairly well, though the beginning of Devil Mask is cut off because I got a feed from the output of the recorder that they were using for the show, and the signal cuts off when they switch tapes. The vox are also mixed awfully high, too, but it's still pretty listenable. I'm most thankful to have gotten the feed because it freed me to devote my whole attention to the show, and to dance.

After the show ended, I zipped out of there with all possible speed. My recorder was on a clear aisle that was a shortcut out, so I scooped that up and found the merchandise table. I got two departure lounge cds (ah! full circle!), and, what's this? Cones! Two noble cones, standing stately amid a sea of merchandise. I nabbed one. And Rare Jewels! The four song ep that includes Nick Drake and Jesus & Me. It even had a copy of the tour schedule pasted on the back. It was only 5 bucks, too! I asked for a handful of the stuff, without even thinking whether I had the finances to support my excess. 50 dollars. I had 2 twenties and 2 fives in my wallet. Hot damn! I noticed Tim standing nearby and got him to sign one of my Departure Lounge cds (his John Hancock looks like a spirograph drawing). Then Eddie and I drove Carole to the bus station so that she could make the trek to the Great American Music Hall, and Eddie crashed at my place. I was proud to be a host for the noble pilgrim.
--Michael W