Receive Weekly Email and Text Message Updates:
Sign up for latest info on concerts, dining, promotions and more!
Go!
Become a Fan of The Village Voice on Facebook
169 Bar Nyc
• website • view ad
92nd St.y   Tribeca
• website
Al B Entertainment
• website
Bb Kings
• website • view ad
• buy tickets
The Bitter End
• website • view ad
Blender
• website • view ad
Blue Note
• website • view ad
Bowery Ballroom
• website • view ad
Fat Cat/smalls
• website • view ad
Hammerstein Ballroom
• website • view ad
Highline Ballroom
• website • view ad
• buy tickets
Iridium Jazz Club
• website • view ad
• buy tickets
Irving Plaza
• website • view ad
• buy tickets
Knitting Factory
• website • view ad
Le Poison Rouge
• website
Nokia Theatre
• website • view ad
• buy tickets
Pianos
• website • view ad
• buy tickets
Radegast Hall & Biergarten
• website • view ad
Red Lion
• website • view ad
Roseland
• website • view ad
Sounds Of Brazil
• website • view ad
• buy tickets
Southpaw
• website • view ad
• buy tickets
Spike Hill
• website • view ad
Sullivan Hall
• website • view ad
The Bell House
• website
The Studio @ Webster Hall
• website • view ad
Music

Share

  • rss
Music

Full-Time Omaha Young People and Their Tap Dancer Get Sex Wild

Douglas Wolk

Tuesday, July 13th 2004

Tilly and the Wall are full-time, professional young people. They're Dawson's Creek as a band: Omaha pals of the Bright Eyes crew, armed to the teeth with the kind of youth it takes to sing pretty songs about "singing pretty songs about love." (They've also got a tap dancer instead of a drummer, which is a better idea than you'd think.) Most of their songs are concerned with how intensely they feel everything—first-person-plural manifestos about love and action and stuff. "Let's get wild, wild, wild," they whoop. "Let's rejoice. I wanna hear that fucking noise."

What youth youth youth and wild wild wild mostly translate to here is sex sex sex and its attendant confusion. The voices of one boy and two girls grope nervously at each other, either in unison or on totally different pages at least as often as they're actually in harmony. They chop at their instruments and stomp on the floor, custom-trimming Shania melodies and Madonna lyrics they've heard on the radio into homemade hymns to universal making out. And the speaking-for-the-fake-ID-generation act is a lot less grating than it might be, mostly because they sound like they actually are high on hormones.

Recent Articles

More by Douglas Wolk

Most Popular