The line at the door of the Firebird snaked through the parking lot. This was the first sign. Then -- the smiles, the excitement, no one worrying about not getting in -- a sense of fate in the air.
A healthy heap of rock was doled out Sunday night at the Firebird.
If the Raveonettes were an insect, they would be a spindly black widow spider in a cloudy forest.
The Firebird hosted two excellent bands from across the pond on Friday night.