photos by priscilla de lima-ledesma
words by jacquelyn pyun
Astronautalis—aka Andy Bothwell—starts yelling like a freaking hurricane Thursday night at DC9 when he steps up. Circling the stage and strangling his microphone, Bothwell gets riotous as he speak-chants his intro to the emerging crowd.
Currently set up in Seattle, Washington, Astronautalis hooks me straight away. His raw, throaty, baritone-ed vocals crawl up my spine; and his inventive lyrics knock Prica off her feet. He rocks from heel to tiptoe against his mic stand as he sing-speaks, and the set quickly turns into a give-me-one-more-song-please-I’ll-do-anything protest from the audience. Rap plus indie-rock plus country equals captivating-listening-pleasures.
“I’ll come back one day when I’m famous and buy you all jet skis,” he promises near the end. I wish Astronautalis had played to a bigger crowd Thursday night (and a few less underage-ers); I think D.C. would have fucking loved it. If he comes around again check him out—he’ll be headlining I’m sure. So umm yeah Andy, I will pick out my jet ski now.
The headliner Wax Tailor—aka JC Le Saout—led the night in a more mellow direction. Armed by some complementary friends with exquisite voices, sultry orchestral instruments (electric cello, I swoon for you), and flow-y fabrics, Wax Tailor provided a hypnotic sway-from-side-to-side experience. Pretty serious group of French accents and sexy tonal waterfalls—staccato-ed by MC Mattic’s steady words. I enjoyed the melty voice of Charlotte Savary, and the sensual body movements rippling through the crowd in reaction to the hip hop, jazzy sounds of their set. It is, as Priscilla points out, some good music for having sex. But still, I gotta say, I was a little bored at the end. Could have used a little more stimulation (insert terrible joke here).