Carter and I went to see Belle & Sebastian a couple of weeks ago. We've gone together to see this band so many times now that I've lost count. The best part of that is that B&S keep getting better and better in their performing skills. This show was at the Nokia Theater--a ridiculously logo-drenched venue in Times Square. It used to be the Astor movie theater--which had the biggest screen in New York. We'll it's rebirth as a music venue is wonderful, despite the ever-present logos and corporate-obsessed decor. The shape of the theater is nice--wide and not too deep, with seats at the back over-looking the standees; and the standees themselves are divided into an upper and lower space; and the stage at the front is raised quite high, allowing for good sightlines for everyone. And the sound system is terrific.

B&S took the stage with just the core members of the band--though there are 7 or 8 or them actually--which I found a bit disappointing after the last concerts we saw where they had what seemed like entire string orchestras up there with them. But not to worry, they still sounded full and fair and fine. Anyway, they opened with Stars of Track and Field. Stuart's voice is getting bigger--more open and more at home in his own songs, and he sounded wonderful, not strained at all and not shy. When I first saw them eons ago at the Supper Club they were such difficult customers, playing up their sexy shyness with rolling eyes, false blushing, and the discarding of any encores. But now it was all openness, generosity, overt flirtatiousness, and plain ol' good times. Stuart seems happy and accepting of his role of ringleader, whereas before he seemed reluctantly in front. But really, it's all about Stevie and his suits and ties and sweet sweet songs like Jonathan David and To Be Myself Completely. They played so much old stuff and so much new stuff, but not so much of the middle stuff, which is too bad--hey, guys, next time I want to hear Women's Realm, Waiting for the Moon to Rise, and There's Too Much Love.

Jenny Lewis, you already know, is enough to make me straight. Gorgeous, a littly bit sad, and decked out in superstar sunglasses as she walks up the East Vilalge avenues. But she has a nasty habit of playing in New York every time I leave the city--I missed the last three or four shows! But this time I got lucky. Christopher got tickets for us and Paula and Laura, and Rebecca and Matt were there too. Jenny was wonderful. And as at home in her country-folk self as she is when playing her rock-n-roll self with Rilo Kiley. She had a swingin' backing band and played almost everything from her solo CD. She played some new songs too, including one about "Jack killing Mom" which was a southern soul rockabilly gospel rollicker that brought down the house. Plus a few covers such as Laura Nyro & LaBelle's version of I Met Him on a Sunday. Sigh, so dreamy. I had hoped she'd play a couple of RK numbers--reset to country rhythms natch--but she left them in LA I guess. She looked fabulous in a long black dress, and she had the tallest and weirdest and twinniest back-up singers this side of The Twilight Zone. Jenny Lewis and the Watson Twins. Just great.

Jenny's solo CD, by the way, is wonderful. She was inspired by the aforementioned Nyro/LaBelle CD, and she proves herself worthy of the soul by naming her album after a slow acoustic waltz that you won't be able to get out of your head no matter how hard you try. So don't try, just buy it.

Tonight I just got back from hearing my friend Alex's band play at Arlene Grocery. They had a month-long residency there, but tonight was the first night I could make it. Ladies and gentlemen, I don't really know what to say about Alexcaliber, except to point out that Alex is indeed one of the zaniest and most energetic dancers in the history of post-punk. Yes, David Byrne, that means he's gunning for you. I usually hate when people try to describe new music as "a cross between" two bands--you know how people go on, "oh they're like a cross between the Stones and Devo!" or "you know, like the evil love-child of Stevie Wonder and Joan Jett!" Well, I'm gonna break my own rule and just say it: Alexcaliber = Talking Heads + the Ramones + Mandy Patinkin + Blondie + Andrew WK + Cheap Trick + Scott Walker + Iggy Pop + Yoko Ono + Jimmy Scott + Judas Priest + Diamanda Galas + The Magnetic Fields + Bernstein, with dashes of Prince and um, the Elephant Man thrown in for good measure.

Some lyrics that struck a nerve: "Ex ex ex, spurt, spurt." And "He rubbed my pussy through my jeans / As we babysat a future porno queen." On another note, Alex's body rocks the Lower East Side all the way back home. Son, you are built! I'm sorry I missed the shows leading up to this, and I'm sorry I didn't drag all my friends to see this one. It was out there, beyond words, beyond rock really, all the way out to the place of the sublime. Like high art, low humor, and cheap beer: you just can't ever get enough. (Okay, skip the beer).