Fiona is back. She apparently releases new albums about as often as Cracky gets laid… and the time between releases (pun intended) is growing exponentially longer. Her last one was 2005. She has a new one coming out in June called The Idler Wheel is wiser than the Driver of the Screw, and Whipping Cords will serve you more than Ropes will ever do. However, unlike Cracky, Fiona needs to practice a bit before performing before a large crowd. So she booked a couple nights at intimate Lincoln Hall for about 500 of her closest friends. When tickets went on sale, the server crashed harder than a vision-impaired drunk on a dirt track date. The 20,000 Fiona fans who all felt entitled to a ticket or two acted as if Lincoln Hall had roofied Fiona herself, raped her and posted the video on YouTube just to taunt them while they hosted a cocktail reception for ticket brokers and passed out golden tickets like beer nuts. Chill out, folks. Lincoln Hall is the best damn venue this city has, from booking acts, to taking care of bands, to giving us great sound and a pretty damn nice place to catch a show. Security and bartenders and everyone else associated with the place are first class, and for Fiona fans to act as if they were on a mission to screw every one of them over is more ridiculous than Gallagher as president of these United States. I didn’t get tickets to the show when they first went on sale. But I didn’t threaten to burn the place down. Like a normal human, I said, “Well, that sucks” and then got on with my life and probably watched some porn or went out for nachos.
Remember Buck Dharma from Blue Oyster Cult? Doesn’t matter because he is irrelevant to this post but his name does rhyme with karma, and I’m about to get metaphysical on your ass. You see, I’m pretty much an ass. But when I find myself with extra tickets to a sold-out show, I do my best to find a fan to whom I can sell them at face value. And in turn, the ticket gods take note and make sure I gain entry to a venue when I need to. Take note, Fiona fans. I didn’t tell Lincoln Hall to shove a Blue Moon tap up their ass, and by the time Fiona rolled into town I found myself with a pair of tickets. I almost died before the show due to a severe allergic reaction, but that’s an irrelevant story for another time. I ended up recovering before showtime and here’s my review.
Concert reviews are really stupid. It’s a one-time event. It’s not like somebody is going to read the review like a movie and say, “Hey, that sounds awesome, I think I’ll go see it tomorrow night. Oh, right, it was a concert and I missed it.” I suppose they can be useful to somebody who was at the show and is so motherfucking indecisive that they need to read the reviews before they can decide whether they like it or not. Or got hammered on Kamikazes before the show and doesn’t remember it. Speaking of which, why don’t people drink Kamikazes anymore? They were good enough for Cracky to blackout during a painfully boring James Taylor concert in 1994 and wake up in the backseat of a strange Ford Probe on a street nowhere near his own. But I digress. Which is my point. You don’t want to read a review of a show, right? Perhaps you do. If so, read this one. He pretty much nailed it and it will save me from having to say the same thing. Thanks, Andrew.
http://www.windycityrock.net/2012/03/show-review-fiona-apple-at-lincoln-hall.html
Fiona is the apple in Cracky’s eye. And not the crusty stuff in the corner when he wakes up.
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