04/28/2009
Movies: Music: Blogging:: 0 comments: by Lexi Feinberg
Saturday night’s alright for fighting, says Elton John, but not as fun as spending it with talented Scottish imports.
It was a surprisingly warm evening in New York City on Saturday, April 25, and what better way to spend it than at Webster Hall with Travis and the Republic Tigers. Sporting a tank top with a glass of Irish Cream in hand, I soaked in the opening notes of spring after a grueling winter that long overstayed its welcome. Hello again, sunshine.
Perhaps it’s that Travis, one of the U.K.‘s best-kept secrets, brought good luck with it all the way from Glasgow. Opening for the band was the Republic Tigers from Kansas City, composed of Adam McGill and Kenn Jankowski. Arguably best known for their catchy tune “Fight Song,” which wooed the teen masses on “Gossip Girl,” they embraced Shins-like wailing and avoided spastic stage hopping. The biggest crowd pleasers of the set were “Air Guitar” and an alt-rock rendition of Blondie’s “Heart of Glass.” Particularly memorable the band wasn’t, but the tunes didn’t send anyone fleeing the premises holding their ears, so that’s a plus.
Despite not being widely known in the U.S., Britpop masters Travis drew a large crowd at the standing room venue—generally, when I mention the band to anyone, the infuriating response is, “Who? Randy Travis?” The black trilby hat-wearing singer Healy, who looks like someone “American Idol’s” Matt Giraud would try (and fail) to mimic, hopped around with the energy of a caffeinated rabbit. He was joined with equal enthusiasm by bassist Dougie Payne, guitarist Andy Dunlop and drummer Neil Primrose.
The soulful, crooning band, which came of age in the late ‘90s, performed a few songs off its sixth studio album, “Ode To J. Smith,” along with many favorites of the past. The tone of the show shifted effortlessly from scorn (“Selfish”) and sadness (“Falling Down,” which Healy sang while, fittingly, jumping off the stage) to uber-giddiness (“Sing”). To top it off, the crowd bounced around to “Why Does It Always Rain On Me?” and basked in the warm acoustics of “Flowers in The Window.”
When the show ended, the concert-goers walked out with big, stupid grins on their faces, fully aware they just experienced something special. Saturday Night Fever, indeed.
Location: New York
Occupation: Writer/Editor
Bio: Lexi Feinberg has been writing since she was 6 years old. While other kids were outside swinging from jungle gyms and scraping their knees, Lexi could be found in her room writing stories, which she also illustrated (albeit poorly).
She graduated from Adelphi University in 2004 and has found her home in the publishing field ever since, with editorial positions at both TV Guide and Forbes.com.
Lexi is a freelance writer and her work has been featured on Big Picture Big Sound, CinemaBlend, JoBlo, Pop Syndicate and other prominent film review sites. She also contributes movie reviews to Show Business Weekly, a New York City trade paper.
Some might say she is obsessed. She prefers the term "devoted."
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