When Magnetic Fields took the stage, their energy was lagging. Claudia Gonson fought to keep up her usual banter, but it was obvious Merritt was recovering from a cold. His voice, which normally knocks around your body with its depth and force, sounded muted, as if he was singing into the wrong end of a megaphone. Regardless, they kept the attention of a full house for two hours, and Merritt even seemed to find his surly spark after the brief intermission.
Matthew Cooke went to Tinariwen:
Their audience, enraptured the entire show, understood. There was a respectability about this crowd (the contrast with the Spits mob the previous night couldn’t be more stark), an NPR-tinged ease with internationalism. Some would call them “tragically Caucasian,” but they knew their Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan from their Ali Farka Touré. Even still, every time Tinariwen’s lead vocalist asked “ça va?” they mindlessly screamed back “ÇA VA!” and not “bien” (can you tell I took French?).
And I went to Four Tet:
I hate the idea that "Seattle crowds don't dance"—that we're uptight, that we're too white, that we're no fun, that we're just too much of a "rock" town—because I've seen Seattle crowds tear a dance floor the fuck up time and time again, for disco, for techno, for house, for dance-punk. But if you wanted anecdotal evidence for the old stiff, standing still Seattlite stereotype, you couldn't have done better than last night's sold-out Four Tet show at Chop Suey.