“You’re like a litter of kittens!”

Yesterday was an exercise in excess. We slept in until 11 and had a breakfast of from-scratch buttermilk pancakes. I laid about reading for most of the afternoon, then we had some grilled cheese sandwiches and headed over to D & T’s for a housewarming shindig. I made lovely drinks with orange bitters and played with babies. The rooms were hot, filled with people and laughing, and I felt like I was sitting in the belly of some wiggly party snake. I was preoccupied with watching other people and enjoying the snippets of conversation that floated over others’ heads. I probably wasn’t much of a conversationalist, but that’s okay.

After the party we went to the Moore to see Antony and the Johnsons. I was looking forward to the show because Antony’s got the loveliest voice, but I wasn’t prepared for the night (in a good way). We took our seats about halfway into the first song: it was one I didn’t know, but as I looked down to the stage as I sat, I almost missed the seat with my butt I was so focused on that person at the piano. I’m going to say “person” and “Antony” a lot because the most amazing thing about this artist is his between-ness: he’s not a man or a woman, and if you close your eyes and listen to the voice you can easily imagine it coming out of all sorts of bodies. I see men, I see women, I see young, I see old. The voice, if I had to pin it down and make comparisons, is kind of like if Edith Piaf, Nina Simone and Alison Moyet had a three-way that resulted in a magical baby and then Janis Joplin possessed that baby. But not even that – none of that is fair because Antony’s completely something else. I recommend you go find an Antony and the Johnsons track and play it while you read the rest of this post, if you can.



I really love singers/musical performers who look and act as if they are in the middle of some sort of exorcism. They move and they sway and then open their mouths to let the sound out because if they don’t it’s going to eat them alive. Not just Antony, but the rest of his bad (cello, violins, guitar, sax, drums, clarinet) were so under the force of the music that they never stopped moving or playing, even when they sat still.

Antony’s singing pulls this emotion out of my belly – I felt, for most of the show, like I needed to cry or gasp or start/stop breathing. What’s funny is I can’t even say “Gosh, I really like the style of this music” because you can’t really like or not like it. The point is you’re enraptured by Antony and his stage presence and his storytelling and his voice and the music swells and slows like something as solid as the seat you’re in: it’s just there and it’s all encompassing.

The audience was an odd assortment of people, which I liked. What I didn’t like was the dudes (I think it was all dudes) who shouted between songs. Antony did this great cover of Beyonce’s “Crazy in Love” and at the end some dude yelled out “Fuck Beyonce!” — dude, why? Why dude? Antony stopped and asked the same, “How can you say that?” and then he tinkled the keys a bit and said “I think Beyonce is sacred.” At one point when everyone was just clapping and being spazzy and so goddamn happy to be in there (I don’t think they’ve been to Seattle before, and this tour included just 5 US cities), Antony laughed and said, “You’re like a litter of kittens! You’re just new, happy baby kittens! Usually I’m playing for a room full of chickens or some other birds.”

At the end of the show both of us had cried out eyes and felt all used up, but in a really beautiful way. We made our way down to the Market and had some pastis and talked about the next few years. We’re always planning. On the scooter ride home, Sky shouted “I want macaroni and cheese!!!!” so we made some when we got home: Gourmet’s mac and cheese (we substituted buttermilk and it was extra tart and tasty). We settled into bed around 1am full of music and booze and cheese. A good day.