Busy week.

Back­stage at Clap Your Hands Say Yeah last Tuesday.

I think the most sur­pris­ing thing about CYH­SY’s suc­cess, apart from how unlike­ly it seems that a soft-spo­ken guy I met at a Need New Body in-store might be on Let­ter­man in less than a year, is the con­tent of the back­lash against his band. It’s not a back­lash against the band, or front­man Alec Ounsworth, or even indie rock per se, but a crit­ic’s lament against Pitch­fork Medi­a’s cura­to­r­i­al capabilities.

It’s a shame too, and this is the con­flict of inter­est part I guess, because it seems pret­ty amaz­ing that in an epoch of cor­po­rate greed, Alec was able to piece togeth­er a fun­gi­ble sce­nario that allowed him to main­tain cre­ative and finan­cial con­trol, nego­ti­ate on his own terms and achieve a degree of inde­pen­dence that few artists enjoy. Talk­ing to him you’d nev­er believe that this guy wrote his own tick­et, start­ing out at L’E­tage’s ram­shackle cabaret, singing for­lorn tunes for an indif­fer­ent audi­ence. And with a solo record near­ly com­plet­ed, this might just be his cre­ative chrysalis.