The next sounds out of the harmonica were rhythmic, like a jazz singer building intensity. The song was called "Dark Eyes," a Gypsy standard found on just about every Holiday in Spain thrift-store record ever made. Diguidio alternately strummed with force and grace. The audience began to clap along. The camera cut to a side view of Felten. His body moved like an S; his head, his shoulders, shoring up the top of the letter. The camera cut back into a head shot of Felten. He trailed off with a long, high blow, and then a shorter, more melancholy finish. His right hand went up; his wrist, fingers splayed, collapsed. Silence. He turned away from the audience, grabbed his bowler once again, and his feet began to patter. He ran in place, not flailing, but with grace. With the rhythm of his shoes, he turned face forward to the camera. His legs bowed. Right, left. Noodle legs. His head hunched, one arm out in front. Click, click. Strum. Ca-click, ca-click. Strum. Ca-click, ca-click. Strum. Stomp. Hat back on. A pivot, then a short bow to the audience. Cheers.
The brunette jumped back onstage. Something in Spanish. Then, "Thank you for having been in Barcelona." Blue Canary disappeared behind the curtain.
They were a hit. Now off the streets, they found club gigs all over the city. The honeymoon lasted for two weeks. But the constant performances beat them. The crappy amp they used for the guitar and the harmonica shorted out at the worst times. Finally, after three months of Europe, they wanted to go home. High on Spanish success, they returned to San Francisco. They tried to shop a video and press kit to a few clubs, but they didn't find much interest. Club bookers are accustomed to bands who describe themselves as "sorta Superchunk with a little more crunch" or "We're really influenced by Pavement." How do you explain a tap-dancing, harmonica-blowing, Gypsy-guitar-playing duo?
Eventually, Blue Canary -- who had briefly changed their name to the Harmonarachis -- found the appreciative art crowd. They played Cell and the Jewelry Store. They picked up a gig at the Bottom of the Hill. Pilaf's, an upscale cabaret, gave them a couple of shows. Meanwhile, they built Junko's. And they practiced -- a lot. "We're planning for a storm," Felten says.
They've also begun working on a record of originals: contemporary lyrics, classic sounds. And they want to go back to Europe, soon. Felten would like to join a vaudeville circuit and learn from a master. He knows it won't happen, but he's obsessed with cabaret. "I've already spent eight years of my life doing it," he says. "There's always a carrot at the end of the line. I want to give that performance that I've seen, that movement. That music or vocal. To me, it's very alive."
Blue Canary plays on Monday, June 8, at Bruno's.
