Syd Straw’s Heartwreck Show
Mercury Lounge, New York, February 14, 2003
I didn’t know Syd Straw’s work or much about her when I went to see her Valentine’s Day Heartwreck show. All I knew was that she had a cool name, and has been around a while, and there’s some kind of credibility and hipness about her aura – you know how you pick all this up from the zeitgeist. But I was totally unilluminated about the actual talent and brilliance of Ms. Straw. Prepare to fall on your knees, as I did! (Figuratively. Actually I stood, painfully, for 4 1/2 hours.)
Syd walked onstage looking disguised, in a shapeless coat, brimmed hat and heavy glasses. She had a frail, scattered demeanor, like Elaine May’s in A New Leaf. I love Elaine May, but Syd Straw’s look was the kind of get-up that signals its wearer is a ‘character’ and ‘kooky,’ and it can be very tiring to watch someone be zany all night, as I recently found at a show by Tulip Sweet. Ms. Straw hoisted a drink and peered at the audience. “It’s Valentine’s, let’s all get really tipsy,” she suggested. “Syd, you’re such a freak,” a fan behind me kept saying in a proprietary voice, not filling me with confidence. But then Syd launched into a song. Her voice is dusky and strong and can go from a tender croon to a yearning wail in a heartbeat. She dropped all joking when she sang, committing herself body and soul to the music. And the song was great. Impressed and encouraged, I turned to my friend and nodded hopefully.