F.T.W.
A topless little guy in face paint and shorts and no shoes waving a homemade flag and howling into a microphone accompanied by only an iPod. A mustachioed recorder player huddled cross-legged on the stage floor behind another colorfully hand-drawn banner while the rest of the band bashed out fuzzily good-natured pop out in front. A dude in a yellow Elvis T-shirt joining in a set of blistering garage rock. Another mustache, this time on a solitary singer-songwriter who mixed self-consciously bombastic post-Jeff Buckley balladry with self-consciously awkward stand-up comedy. A new band from some familiar local faces in their live debut.
That's an incomplete sampling of the live performances I was able to catch Wednesday and Thursday nights last week at Vaudeville Mews:
Posts
