Jolie jolie, jolie jolieeeeee

Had a nice night seeing Jolie Holland play at the Basement last night. Went with a friend of a friend and talked his ear off after a few glasses of red wine. I really should remember that 2 glasses of red wine makes me ridiculously chatty - and not just chatty but frank. And not just frank but detailed. Detailed as in pedantic, and wanting to tell the full picture of every story I feel like telling, detailed. (Nooooo, you never would have guessed that from this blog, right?). Anyway it was fun to see someone play live whose music I hardly know, and to go with someone I hardly know too, all in the spirit of New Year and being more adventurous.

This reviewer sums up the performance really well, and I am too lazy and too badly acquainted with the performer's back catalogue to write anything like that myself, so you can just cheat and go there and pretend I told you about it. I know that is a totally lame 'yeah what he said', but there you go.

And golly it rained last night, like torrential - somehow this made it even better for listening to music somewhere downstairs and cosy. Except for my wet feet (how is it that my cowboy boots leak?) and my friend's wet everything (poor bugger - lucky it was warm inside). As well as her music, I loved her outfit - kind of Little House on the Prairie, good folk, simple living but with attitude. Quaker cool? I also admired her lack of sparkle: she was more of a soft glow, a 'here I am take me or leave me' performer, delivered with that kind of San Fran cool, delicious flat accent and the vague sense that she doesn't really give a shit what you think because she likes what she does anyway. The guitarist was cute (actually, was he the guitarist or bass player? seriously I'm so derr with music I don't even know). He looked a bit like he had the head of a cute curly haired bespectacled 9 year old on the body of Jemaine from FOTC. But not in a creepy way - seriously, you'll just have to trust me on this.

Don't you reckon everyone looks better playing guitar? - I am always reminded of this when I see men on stage elevated from lanky and average looking to focused, driven, mesmerised, cowboy shirt wearing rock gods .. well maybe not rock gods, maybe kind of generic folk pop cuties, but whatever.

That makes two live music gigs so far this year if you count Kristen Hirsch, who did a great spoken word gig for the Sydney Festival, but snuck in some atmospheric scene change music and a few whole songs too. Hoh! And it's not even the end of February!! Just joking - I'm kind of taking the piss, but actually kind of pleased too.

You see, I'm under no grand illusions that this is doing much to completely overthrow my nanna-like social habits, but hey it's a start. I do try to get out and mix it up with the kids you know, it's just that a visit to the crayon (sorry 'oil pastels') section of the art shop, or a solo jeans clad wander down the street to a cafe to huddle round a latte and people watch or stare dreamily out the window is my idea of crazy high paced fun times. Or having dinner with friends or visiting people. Yup, it's official, am basically extreme sport wild socialising diva - of the library, wool shops, op shops, bookshops, loungeroom, and random literary lecture circuit. Oh hang on - exhibition openings, I go to those, and they have people at them.

I think the problem with my social life is that I'm not sure if I have one (a problem that is, I do know I have a social life), but then again I'm not entirely sure I don't (have a problem). I like quiet, daggy, stay at home, DIY pursuits. I like my own company. I like a glass of red and some loungeroom dancing. I like quiet cups and tea and chats with friends. I like that I like this stuff. I'm just also aware that this stuff isn't the stuff that is most likely to propel you out into the world to Meet People (read, people to shag/hook up with/settledown with etc). Anyway, I do like going out as well, I think I'm just a bit lazy usually get my arse into gear to organise stuff. Does anyone actually know of anyone who's hooked up with their dream boat honey bun via bumping into each other hilariously in a bookshop? Or is it really the case that we only ever meet people drunk at parties or bars?

And on that topic, do you think that Jolie Holland ever worries about her social life and wonders if she's a loser because she doesn't go out to see live music? Or that through some perverse twist of fate maybe she secretly pines for respite from the rock and roll lifestyle and wishes she could be wandering up and down library shelves collecting picture books of gardens and books about renaissance buildings or brains or paints, because she doesn't see how being out on stage every night is going to help her meet nice people.

I really can't think why I don't meet flocks of young men as I wander through vintage ladies knitwear at Vinnies. Oh well. I did pick up a lovely sleeveless aqua knit with very cute peep neck and double button arrangement circa 1981 the other day, which totally rocked. Coming soon to an outfit near you.