In the modern era, if Cream was the first super group, Traveling Wilburys at least the best staffed and Damn Yankees and/or the cunts on MTVâ€™s Mission: Man Band tied for the absolute worstest sounding rubbish since the dawn of recorded time (spoiler alert: John B. from Color Me Badd has gained more weight than Matthew Sweet – and big surprise – become an alcoholic in the process) then the most promising since The Good, The Bad and The Queen has to be the all-indie, all-the-time ensemble that backed up erstwhile Peaches and Gonzales hype grrl Leslie Feist last night on Letterman. And even though she doesnâ€™t care too much for that newfangled Internets thang, Mme. Feistâ€™s cup still oozeth over with 31+ flavors of hipster cred after this performance:
Letâ€™s face it. You could never bring Jennifer Herrema, M.I.A. or even Lily Allen to a Labor Day picnic with the folks. Jenny would end up mainlining the potato salad with your kid sister, and M.I.A. would talk about both politics and religion. And now that her visaâ€™s about as good as your ticket to see The Cure next month, pudgy little Lily wouldnâ€™t even make it pass Customs. But rustic sex pot Les is the kind of broad you could bring home to mom. And when she asks you if youâ€™ve seen that new Volkswagen commercial with the Wilco tune in it, you can smile politely and say â€œYes mother I have, but you might like this new song by my friend here called â€˜1234â€™ even better.â€ Since mommy dearest hasnâ€™t seen you since you last came home for that Morrissey concert, sheâ€™d gladly entertain your suggestion only to tell you that itâ€™s cribbed a riff from the theme to â€œNew York, New York.â€
And since sheâ€™s got to be at Talbotâ€™s tomorrow morning by 7:30AM to help unload a new shipment of cardigans or some shit like that, your poor mother probably fell asleep during Daveâ€™s monologue last night. Too bad. Feist was joined by a heavenly host of Arts cherubim and Crafts seraphim that included (big breath): boyfriend Kevin Drew and his partner from Broken Social Scene Brendan Canning, both Devendorf brothers and the bassist from the National, best Mates of State Kori Gardner and Jason Hammel, The New Pornosâ€™ â€œHotâ€ Carl Newman, Neptune Cityâ€™s own Nicole Atkins, four Grizzly Bears from Brooklynâ€¦and a partridge in a pear tree. As you can see, it was quite possibly the largest gathering of awkwardly clapping white folks since Fleetwood Mac played the Clinton inauguration. Towards the end there, even Paul Shafferâ€™s lackeys got in on the fray.
Need further proof that even the most jaded scenester has basic cable? Okkervil River is playing on Conan Oâ€™Brien tonight.