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Friday, December 3, 2004

Humming To Myself
An over-abundance of praise is as deadly as scorn, so we'll refrain from going on at great length about Feist. But really. She is a whole other kind of wonderful. Rarely seen so many people in love.

Not to go all fucking hippie here or anything but a friend of ours - another in too long a line of 20-something friends of ours suffering from some form of disillusionment - is trying really hard to popularize the term, "life breather." Sort of like whatsnername in Mean Girls who wants everyone to say "fetch." Anyway. We like the phrase and the idea behind it: fucking off to just about anywhere other than wherever "here" is to actually, you know, indulge in that which has absolutely nothing to do with paying rent.

We raise this only because we can think of no better hero of this newly-minted movement than Miss Feist. Surely she has to pay rent. But otherwise she seems completely free of expectation. Hers and ours. Completey in control. But entirely free of restriction. Brilliant that.

Anyway. Other, less pretentious, reviews of last night's show from: Chromewaves and Shot. While For The Records went to Keren Ann.

P.S. k-os was there...
P.P.S. So was Emily Haines.
P.P.P.S. And Globe scribe Robert Everett-Green. Taking notes.

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