The show was already in progress when I arrived, a local band called the True Jacqueline playing crunchy guitar riffs and singing tight girl/boy harmonies, a la Apples in Stereo. The bass player, whose name is Callie W. [sic], looked like the coolest camp counselor ever, in a mini-skirt and bright blue sneakers. She traded lots of “whoas” and “oohs” with the keyboard player on bouncy pop tunes. The guitarist sat on a folding chair—very casual about the whole thing, I thought, until I saw him hobbling off stage on crutches later—but the drummer stood, whacking an abbreviated set of snare, tom, and cymbal without the benefit of a chair. At the break, I bought a seven-song homemade CD for $1, and it turned out to be lo-fi and loosely constructed but really kind of fun, especially “The Wizard” and “Instead”.

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