Milkboy makes marvelous music

By Liz Wagner
Collegian Editor
February 13, 2008

The Milkboy Café rests on a quaint stretch of road off East Lancaster Ave. in Ardmore, Pa. During the day, this coffee shop is full of the quiet hum of heavily caffeinated teenagers and adults alike. Christmas ornaments hang from the ceiling in a quiet, never-ending holiday. The Milkboy retains this atmosphere during the evening as well, but Feb. 8 it held one key difference: 50-some buzzing listeners sat in couches and chairs aligning a modest stage, sipping cappuccinos, waiting for the evening to begin.

We entered the coffee shop to the bluesy croon of acoustic New York City starlet Rebecca Hart. She smiled, making eye contact with everyone in the room as she bantered in between numbers.

“I used to live in Los Angeles,” she said. “And though I didn’t write this in the car fleeing the state…I might as well have.”

Her deep croon held hints of a southern twang as she sang about “riding around with her rag top down,” and lovers that made her hate where she’s at. Lines like “This is the worst day on this black earth to be alive,” were sobering and a little melodramatic, but it wasn’t what she was singing that was so striking; it was how she sang it. Her low folksy-blues voice resonated throughout the shop.

But the girl that held the bar in sway for the next 30 minutes did so with the practiced hand of an adorable folk singer. Because that’s what Frances Ansleis of Hop Along, Queen Ansleis is: adorable. Going by the stage name of Frances, she stepped up to the mic, zither in hand, her striped sweater and long skirt making her stature appear even smaller, and began to sing.

Let’s pause for a moment to discuss the manner in which Frances sings. Not only is she constantly smiling bashfully at the crowd, but the sound that comes out of this tiny singer is tremendous. Her voice grows from a wavery whisper to a belting shout and back down in a matter of seconds.

Hop began by belting out a song about a family sitting around eating breakfast. She whistled, strummed her zither and stomped out a rhythm for herself, smiling sheepishly when she hit a wrong note.

She then jumped to an acoustic guitar and sang a song about what she thinks California would be like if she ever went there. For a little folk singer out of Maryland, she had a lot of supporters cheering for her that night. Her mother and brother were prominent fans.

The next few songs involved Frances on guitar, accompanied by Tommy Siegel of Jukebox the Ghost on banjo.

“Tommy and I wrote this song. It’s about being alone,” said Ansleis before their second number together. The two broke into “Dancing With Myself.”

Siegel left the stage and Frances picked up with “The Goose and the Wren” off her album Freshman Year. I have never seen a room virtually struck dumb before. As she sang out, “The farmer stands and says ‘What happened to the land? It used to be fertile, it used to be good, when I was a lad,’” all eyes were on her.

She finished off her set with a song about Junkyard James during which Jesse Kristin from Jukebox the Ghost accompanied her on the drums while her brother tapped out a beat on a maraca in the crowd.

The next act was Tim Williams from New York. Joined by Misty Boyce on the keyboard, xylophone and melodica, Williams plowed through his indie set with gusto on Hop’s borrowed guitar.

“The plane ride from L.A. to New York smashed mine,” sighed Williams, scratching his beard. “Don’t fly United.”

“Tape Your Head” and “Out There” proved strong acoustic numbers for the duo. Boyce’s soprano blended nicely with Tim Williams’ brawny tenor. The crowd approved.

The night ended with keyboard driven trio Jukebox the Ghost. This band pepped it up from the previous three bands by a good seven notches.

“We’re used to playing in dark rooms with lots of drinking people,” apologized keyboardist Ben Thornewill as the band broke into a song that included both ridiculously intense keyboard and high “oohing.”

Jukebox originated in Washington, D.C., but has recently made the move to Philadelphia. But this didn’t stop D.C.-ers from making the trip over to Ardmore to see them. With a carefree demeanor and an ocean of talent and fun, the guys plowed through tunes like “Fire in the Sky,” a song about the end of the world; “Hold It In,” a song about a crush; and “Lighting Myself on Fire,” a song about love, and then about lighting yourself on fire. Jukebox the Ghost carried all the spunk necessary to end a totally enjoyable, but mellow show.

Kids leaving the Milkboy jittered their way out into the February night, full of caffeine, keyboards and acoustics.

wagnerej1@lasalle.edu