Wielding her guitar like a carving knife and using her voice as the most potent of spices, she sprinkles her music liberally with powerful rhythms and textures, garnishing it with sugary melodies and acerbic lyrics.
Huh? I like to think I wield the carving knife like a guitar, but that's another story. The show is part of a Friday night concert series that is full of over-the-top, carving knife descriptions of relatively obscure rock bands - another part of the Yankees new style of embracing nothingness on the way to winning nothing.
Don't get me wrong: I have a soft spot for rock bands - my two sons are in one - and if the Yankees want to juice a crowd with a hard-driving show, I say, Rock on, Garth! It's just weird to read the "face-melting" text for these bands, especially when placed beside the obscene enthusiasm voiced by the yes-men (and women) of YES. Who writes this stuff, Paul O'Neill?
Soraia's ferociously energetic, intoxicating live shows are their trademark calling card, showcasing a will to defy and survive.
"A will to defy and survive?" Good grief. Here's the write-up on Wyldlife, which played last weekend.
70's-stylized punk with fast rhymes and sweet melodies. Like a leather boot filled with Hawaiian Punch.
A leather boot filled with Hawaiian punch. That's Carlos Beltran, dammit.
Listen: I don't want to be a Goose Gossage - that is, a fuddy-duddy who hates anything remotely associated with youth. I hate bat flips, unless they're done by Yankees. (Then I like them.) But I do hate hearing about rebellious, hell-raising, outcast, face-melting rock bands who are playing at a fucking Yankee game.
I mean - come on - how rebellious can they be, playing to a Yankee family crowd? Do you think they'll yell "Dammit?" Do you think they'll smash guitars, rip the place down? When the lady wields her guitar like a carving knife, think anybody will get cut? Come on...