Sinister: apres le deluge

[carle groome]

greetings from soggy olde new york!
consider this a belle-lettre to all those interested in the magnetic
fields, which i think, from received posts, wouldn't be out of place
here. 
lovely little evening show tonight at the tip of manhattan, castle
clinton (no relation) reminding one of nothing so much as a castillian
fort--about the only venue on this island to architecturally fit the
mood of the gothic archie. and that worthy was in fine voice, it should
be said, exhorting one and all to become like bunnie rabbits under a
moon that needed poetry...
alas, we could not see the moon as the clouds rolled in...
claudia told us all, alluding to the trip across the pond i've seen such
scintillating reviews on,  how the english add adieus with a rising yelp
of BYE!... steven remarked that it was odd how cellos had become so
popular, also as a manner of explaining the whirlybirds making not
infrequent passages over the top of the circular courtyard. (honestly,
such a nice venue for his transported troubador aesthetic. about the
most medieval thing around. with the exception of the present municipal
government administration...)
but i digress.
yes. so steven's remark: "Yeah, cellos have become so popular. That's
why we had to get helicopters. Last year, theremins. This year,
helicopters. Next year...well, nobody will be listening..." and
continued to project his delightfully remorseful baritone vocal, and
even moved it into an extended tenor note that had cheers and applause
one would normally affix to a guitar solo. great acoustics--not only the
space (cf. gushing, ibid) but the instruments. claudia: "you'll note all
the acoustic intsruments we have onstage... just so you can enjoy them
as the rain and humidity detune them..."
yes. the threat from new jersey was not springsteen fans but a darkening
squall line, prompting nervous remarks between songs. impending gloom to
match the 69 love songs of doom?
sorry, but not quite. it was about ten songs into the set when steven
announced, "ok. it looks like this is it, last song..." and peering out
over the audience, "...ah, the umbrellas of london..."
scarpering even at full speed, few escaped the downpour.
so it goes.
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