I can only liken my experience at Tuesday night's Moxy Fruvous show as something akin to alien abduction. At the urging of a pal, I went to see local openers Laughingstock, an arrestingly good trio with a Hammond B3, trap kit and a moody, Chapman stick-playing lead singer. A little bit of Morphine went a long way. (Personal to Dad: "Morphine" is the name of a band.) Having had five hours of sleep the night before, a 10 hour workday and a couple beers, I was ready to do the horizontal mambo in my PJs with the down comforter, pronto. "I'll give this Lox and Fruvious thingie one song," I told my friend. Who would have known I'd be climbing my apartment stairs at 3 am after having cocktails with the band at the Red Room and seeing one of the best live shows in recent memory.
Lord knows it's a tired device, but if the Beach Boys and The Beatles were on an episode of Kids In The Hall and happened to do a skit about Soul Coughing being a barbershop quartet who were cutting the hair of The Pogues, that might be a good start. The bizarre thing is that Slim's was packed with people I'd never seen before wearing the band's T-shirts, singing along to all the songs and it was their FIRST SHOW in SF. The Fruvous website certainly reveals a lot. I am in love with a band that has a cult following as rabid as Phish. I am having a teensy identity crisis.
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