Whoa, Doggie!

The name of this Movable Type Weblog is cribbed from a thrift store in Berlin, also called “Cowboyz ‘n’ Poodles,” where I did not shop but marveled at the possibility. Last night, however, at the fantastical Thomas Fehlmann performance, “Cowboyz ‘n’ Poodles” became a new dance.
Okay: stand taut, body facing forward, shoulders turned left at a 45 degree angle. With your left hand, pretend that you are lassoing; watch your lasso out of your eyes’ periphery, head cocked slightly for balance. Meanwhile, extend your right hand forward and shuffle, as if you are being pulled along on a leash (by your poodle). As usual, get real pelvic, s’il vous plait.
It clicked during Fehlmann’s sweet shuffle, an ingenious little loper with a country/western rhythm. MIDI jacks on the range! And for a brief heavenly moment, the room breathed with the energy of a Madonna video, with Fehlmann himself savvily working the audience, bopping around behind the laptop, making eye contact and grinning just before hitting a new bassline, seesawing funky melodies and crinkling rhythms like paper. We loved him; he was cool with that.
Scott, the Holocene booker, was lovely and giggling from his single Scorched Earth (151, kahlua, espresso–ay, chihuahua!). After the show, he introduced me to Monsieur Fehlmann. Our meeting was brief; I felt a vaguely embarrassing sense of giddiness, which hasn’t happened since charming Jay-Z told us he wouldn’t shake our hands to save time. I offered the inane compliment, “Wow, that was great,” while feeling self-conscious at the sweat collecting underneath my fuzzy hat, wondering if I was stanky from two hours of busting the Cowboyz’n’Poodles. Thomas Fehlmann beamed, bigger than Madonna and sweeter too, and said he loved it here and was coming back. Daniel Meteo played reggae 45s into the night.