Kimya Dawson
I remember the first time I saw Kimya, she was wearing a big bunny suit at the 9:30 club as her band The Moldy Peaches opened up for The Strokes. I stood there for about 10 minutes with my jaw on the ground. I had never heard nor ever seen them before. I was expecting anything other than what I got. What I received out of her performance was
strange special.
She might have been that hurt girl in highschool who was kind, yet angry, but not cool, she was the one that wrote shitty poetry on the back of her binder with a picture of a knife in the middle of the stanzas. Then again knowing, that I know a lot of people who fit that description and that none of them ever did anything as cool as Kimya does, I probably will nix that thought. She was probably really fucking smart and saw it was all bullshit and decided to live a life of awesomeness doing what she likes.
She was this person singing in front of me. It was unbelievably pure. It was the most innocent sound I heard in a long time. It was the right combination of nervous, humerous, and artistic. It was as if someone was telling a knock knock joke while twiddling their thumbs and awkwardly swaying back and forth. But the joke is so good that you almost want to buy the teller a beer. And the joke teller knows it's that good because they look up with a tilted head and one viewable eye with a smirk.
She has a couple of
mp3's here that I seriously recommend checking out. And if you want you should check out the Moldy Peaches, if for nothing more than a crooked smile and occasional shock, although they offer more than that.
I hate to do this but, her old counterpart Adam Green, is pretty brutal. I think he's playing state fairs out of spite to his own craft. His tunes, although different, are pretty fucking boring.
