or more precisely, Les Concerts a Emporter from La Blogotheque. Yeah, it’s en français mes amis Américains but just put down your fritures de liberté for a couple of nanoseconds and get this: You know you love live music, but you’ve got a trick knee, a bum hip, sciatica, glaucoma, gout–you name it–and not to put too blunt a point on it but you’re tired of the scene and the hipsters and the smell of stale beer and vomit now that smoking is a felony–if this resembles you slightly or not at all then imagine
the national at your dinner table
vampire weekend in an empty courtyard
pattern is movement in a van
well over a hundred song-long performances. And you can brush up on your french.
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