It happens to tunesters I dig like the Old 97's and to tunesters I disdain like Ben Folds: artists serenaded with their finest choruses by a fan base unknown to the culture at large. So there in the brutal crammed heat of the Knitting Factory August 4 was redheaded love object Jenny Lewis in short black summer dress and distressed maroon leg warmers, and her besotted cult was shouting: "Now some days they last longer than others/But this day by the lake went too fast/And if you want me you better speak up I won't wait/So you... More >>>