Shannon Wright took the stage without a word,
accompanied by a drummer. She played a dissonant
guitar for half the set, while she did a spastic
dance. Her performance was angst-ridden, her
face scrunched up and intense, her hair flying
over her face. Occassionaly she did the Mick
Jagger head bob thing, and sometimes strutted on
the stage in rockergrrrl style. But her stage
histronics were insular, rather than showman
like. For about the other half of the show, she
accompanied herself on the Wurtlizer, playing
ominous Chopin-like dirges and carnival ditties,
while she screamed, whispered and yelled her
lyrics with her eyes closed. Wright was almost
upstaged by her drummer, who was melodramatic in
every since of the word. Lots of flourishes and
windmilling hand motions. When he wasn't
playing, his head was bowed down, in a deliberate
pose that practically screamed "Look at me! I'm
being reverent!" He was cute, though, so I'll
forgive him his overkill. During the set, a
slide projector flashed images of old road signs
and fade family photographs over the performers.
It was a rather intense show.

--Craig

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"Tired moons ask higher tides."--Zelda Fitzgerald

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