Caveat

Hmph. It is the decided opinion of both Pretty Lady and her scruffy friend Danonymous that one should avoid Joe's Pub in Manhattan, unless one is the sort of dull yuppie type with 1) more money than time to burn and 2) no sense of personal discrimination or taste. Which does not describe either one of us.

In fact, the Pundit would probably chime in on this one, too, as Pretty Lady recalls that the last time she was at Joe's was when she and the Pundit, following a Village Voice starred review, made a special trip to hear a band called 'Chocolate Genius.' Fifteen dollar cover, friends, and a two-drink minimum; a draft beer (not even a pint) is seven dollars a pop. Absurd.

'Chocolate Genius' was not. Pretty Lady and the Pundit were veritably disgusted. In between underwhelming sets, 'Chocolate Genius' had the temerity and unwisdom to whine about a negative review that they had recently received in Time Out NY. The Pundit later declared, "Time Out is providing a Public Service. I shall subscribe immediately."

In fact, it was at Pretty Lady's suggestion that not only did we walk out, we walked out the Long Way Around, proudly and flamboyantly, accidentally bumping into as many bland yuppies as possible on the way.

So, Pretty Lady and Danonymous are sorry to report that Nomi was at her best, possibly her lifetime best, on that July evening with the sun streaming through the south windows, when Pretty Lady caught her serendipitously on Spinning on Air. It was one of those Moments which will never be repeated.

The dear girl has some talent, of course--she has quite a nice note, which she hammers assiduously. Her fashion sense is something utterly foreign to Pretty Lady's experience. It might be termed 'ghetto gypsy.' The bandanna round her ankle, like a tourniquet over a spike heel, baffled the both of us. Rising above the bandanna were a pair of black polyester semi-toreador pants, a flamboyant metallic belt, a polyester vest over visible bra, many ghetto-jewelry chains, and an embroidered shrug. Odd. Distinctly.

Also distinctly odd was her manner of performing while crouching. She did not entirely sit, she did not entirely stand; she hunkered over in a sort of W, threw back her head, peered through her bangs, and waved her hands around.

We were given free CDs, at least. Dano donated his to the care package for Pretty Lady's sister. After listening to hers, Pretty Lady suspects that they're giving them away because they can't sell them.

Danonymous had this to say, wisely, in the Starbucks where we were driven at the end of the forty-five-minute set, due to the fact that if we had wanted to stay at Joe's any longer, we would have had to pay another cover charge and buy two more drinks: "Do not lower your standards."

This could be seen as blanket advice for any situation. Friends, do not lower your standards.