I paid NZ$54 to see Lambchop play the other night. Lambchop, the darlings of alt.country - almost up there in darling-ness with darling Ryan Adams (ugh) and darling Jesse Malin and The goddamn darling Handsome Family. It was fine, I guess, but I'm never going again. Actually, if you want the truth, it was boring. And nice.
The cost of the experience is especially galling when you consider I had a ticket to give away on my radio show the Monday previous. I should never have given that ticket away, I should have kept the bastard for myself. Then I could have gotten really drunk and had a really enjoyable time, instead of just getting a little drunk and still being cogent enough to not enjoy the band.
Anyway, after all's said and done, I can't rid myself of this unpleasant nagging feeling that Lambchop is somehow the Jose Feliciano or the Gordon Lightfoot of this generation. And that's not a nice nagging feeling. It's the feeling of being duped... by niceness. Nothing against those fellows, but it's all just a little too... nice.
And should I trust my instinct when people I don't like who play in bands I don't like rave to me about how great Lambchop are?
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