Word: indigos
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...SARAH HARMER, YOU WERE HERE: Harmer, a Canadian singer-songwriter, has a voice with some of the sublime charm of Dido's and writes erudite but colloquial lyrics that evoke the folksy smarts of the Indigo Girls. This is the year's best debut, with honorable mention going to Nelly Furtado's blithe "Whoa, Nelly...
...college, with its T3 connection, bubblegum pop-loving roommates and a newly awakened tendency for procrastination. One of my suitemates and I tried to hold out against the barrage of catchy lyrics and syncopated rhythms that constantly assaulted our ears with long listening sessions of Dave Matthews Band and Indigo Girls. But after catching myself singing along to "Hit Me Baby One More Time," I gave up the fight. I installed Napster and within a week, I had over 100 songs. No, they weren't old Less Than Jake albums--most of my new music collection consisted of sugary...
Most conspicuously located in the exhibit is Claire McConaughy's series of paintings, "Memory Flood." Reminiscent of massive footprints or glimpsed clouds, the deep indigo ink imprinted on stretched paper covers its own wall. It is held together by its own repeating patterns, its kaleidoscopic structure, yet is full of a necessary and freeing space. Across the room, Emily Cheng's oil-on-canvas "Silent Elaborations" overtly draws the eye to its center. It's a two-dimensional theater, drapery framing the precious vision of a highly ornate object, the jeweled product of careful work...
Every song on this Canadian singer-songwriter's exceptional U.S. debut album, at some point, is directed at "you," and as you listen along, every second-person reference hits its mark. Harmer's erudite but colloquial lyrics evoke the folksy smarts of the Indigo Girls; when she turns up the volume, her determinedly individualistic style of rock invites comparisons to Liz Phair. This album is like an encounter with an old college chum on the street, all the half-remembered rhythms of friendship coming back with unexpected ease...
...Sundays during high school, my learning was disrupted by the Fate Girls. Before the conformity of junior high had worn off for the rest of us, these girls were wearing loose-fitting clothing, no makeup and talking about the Indigo Girls (which we all thought was a tag team on G.L.O.W. women's wrestling). They would interrupt the class to say things like, "Well, you know, Fate like controls all of us, it's just like Fate, so believing in this Jesus stuff is like useless. Secure yourselves to heaven, like." I expected a John McLaughlin-type reaction ("Galileo...