The evening with Yo La Tengo was pretty sweet. Ira Kaplan danced with his guitar like a car dealership inflatable man caught in a windstorm, unpredictable and alluring. a stage presence somewhat reminiscent Michael Barnes from the great Fleetwood MacDonalds.

Peace, calm, serenity. The violin floated over the guitar like a lullaby for people who own too many plants. Three songs in, my body simply gave up. Gregory Alan Isakov whispered one note too gently, and I slipped into the cleanest, deepest nap of my adult life. I woke up to polite applause and zero…