She seemed a little bit angry actually.
And bossy. She was definitely bossy. I couldn’t help but wonder if her recent incarceration for tax evasion and her commitment to balancing her books with the state has left her a little grumpy about having to sing for her supper.
Apart from one guy in the front row when she paused to sign his CD just before she left, I didn’t see her make any kind of connection with the hollering fans. And you know that thing they do near the end when they’re all pleased with how the night has gone on and they start thanking the band. No, didn’t do that.
Sang pretty of course. Incredible powerful voice. Has a tongue like a razor, it cut through the stories she had to share. A bloodless battle cry. I loved it.
She was wearing Farrell’s hat. Or a similar one Vivienne Westwood had whipped up on the singer. She had fur shoulders.
And she was beautiful and clever.
And she was under the VIVID canopy of shells called the Opera House. It was projecting joy. She was projecting something else.
And that was the miseducation of Jill for a Wednesday. Thank you and goodnight.