Clumsy art-lover seeks robust artworks

So it's not just me then.

I went to see the Anish Kapoor exhibition at the beginning of Winter, and I was so entranced by his glorious "Yellow"...


...that as I leaned in to better appreciate the impact of the colour on that immense scale, I got dizzy and tripped, stumbling onto the artwork. I immediately jumped back as a wizened security lady hissed at me, her face contorted with outrage.

Disregarding my natural clumsiness, I am one of those terrible people who often cannot resist touching sculptures. It's just that they are so damn inviting sometimes, and I must admit that the air of stuffiness in many galleries brings out my inner rebel. I was dying to squoosh my hands into the red wax of Svayambh at the same show. Kapoor is partly to blame for creating such beautiful, awe-inspiring yet invitingly visceral works.

Luckily for cat-bum-faced security vigilantes everywhere, I managed to restrain myself for the rest of the show. But the lure of touching the apparently weightless tumble of mirrored bubbles in the courtyard proved too much. Artists - if your sculpture is outdoors, exposed to the elements, then all bets are off.

Fink broods; Liz Phair talks dirty

First up: Fink. I saw the man play at the supremely wonderful Joe's Pub recently. It was good to break out of my usual female singer/songwriter rut, and I must say, sitting only a few feet away from him as I was, I was a little taken with his unapologetically masculine presence on the stage. He struck me as a staunchly old-school bloke - the anti-metrosexual if you like - with his shorn head, wiry form, beer-swilling, anti-fashion uniform of grey sweat top and dirty grey jeans and occassional self-conscious "nice one". His lyrics are (in keeping with his sartorial style) simple and direct, tending towards the everyday - being late for work, buying maple syrup from Asda (or not), perving at girls (in the sexy sexy Pretty Little Thing) - but his voice and guitar playing elevate the songs to another level altogether. Deep, bruising and hypnotic. Shudder. Catch him live if you can; some of his magic is lost in the recording process.

Then there is Ms Liz Phair: a pint-sized dynamo striding the stage at the Hiro Ballroom in leather vest, hotpants and cork wedges. How rock and roll is that?!

I love Liz for the honesty in her music and voice, her brazen sexuality and the f*ck-you attitude that has gotten her into trouble on more than one occassion. This gig was a celebration of the re-release of Exile in Guyville, with Liz and her all-male back up rocking through every song on the album - from 6ft 1in to Strange Loop. I have to confess, despite the fact that Supernova was one song guaranteed to get me on the dance floor in the 90's (the others were Sabotage and Connection), the first album I bought of hers was the comparitively mild-mannered Somebody's Miracle, and that was only a few years ago. However, it was interesting enough that I have been catching up on her past releases ever since.

This gig was my first introduction to Exile, so unlike many devout fans in the crowd, I couldn't sing along rapturously. However, as an Exile-virgin, the stand-out songs for me were (typically) the slower, sadder ones: Glory, Dance of the Seven Veils, Canary, Girls! Girls! Girls!, and Gunshy; and then there was the dirty shock of Flower (whoa momma!) and of course the infamous Fuck and Run.

Lord, why did no one introduce me to this - the ultimate collection of pissed off break-up songs - when I was 23 and torn up with misdirected anger and confusion?

Both Liz and Fink mentioned how great it was to be in New York, and how much they loved the New York crowds; and both mentioned previous lacklustre gigs in Chicago (Liz) and Pittsburgh (Fink). Sadly, my time in New York will shortly be at an end.

Damn, I'm going to miss this town.

Geek rock: Laura Veirs at the Bowery Ballroom

I just can't seem to escape the geek connection lately. Ever since I started wearing glasses, my world view seems to have shifted somewhat (and not just because distant buildings/trees/signs are uncomfortably sharp now).



I think I admire Laura all the more for her ever-present specs. In fact, it was a picture of her in said specs on the cover of Year of Meteors which first attracted my attention at the Highgate library. Unlike 95% of young female artist cover shots, it was not sexy, not overly styled, and she was not smiling, just gazing straight out, a strange combination of reserved and defiant - serious but with a trace of a mocking smile. I took it home and what sealed the deal for me was 1. the sound, original, pure, captivating and slightly melancholy (if I had to categorise it, I would say indie folk) and 2. the lyrical themes of night skies, literature, swimming, mermen, caves and mountains.

Alone on stage at the lovely Bowery Ballroom, just one girl with her guitar and reverb pedal, Ms. Veirs did not disappoint. The most surprising thing was her strong and sure presence on the stage. She did say towards the end of the night that she was feeling especially relaxed and happy; like she was doing a lap of luck-xury, which she went on to explain was what she and her tour-mate did every time they got a hotel with a pool, to bring luck for the evening's performance.

She played a good selection of recent and older songs (I only know the stuff from her last two albums), as well as a couple of covers and an ode to Obama that sounded so heavenly, she almost changed my mind.

Oh-bah-mah-a-ah, Oh-bah-mah-a-ah, isn't he handsome? Isn't he smart?

A few people in the crowd felt compelled to call out Hilary's name afterwards. There is such a blatant popularity contest going on over here, but Obama seems to be winning in the public profile category.

For the encore, Laura came out with her support act in tow, Liam Finn (who was a tad disappointing with his self-indulgent racket-making), and they joined forces for a rousing version of Galaxies. With Liam restrained from his earlier freak-out and restricted to back up vocals and drums, it was a heavenly way to end a night which made me feel smug to have discovered such a cool artist whose sensibilities are so in tune with my own.