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17
SUNDAY
The last person I introduced to the music of Sloan Wainwright—one of those where-have-you-been-all-my-life? singers—was a college-radio programmer. “Our station’s gonna love her music!” she said. “Especially that song about eating people.” “You Are the Feast,” from the artist’s most recent album, The Song Inside, wraps her sumptuous contralto around the sexiest prandial imagery since Tampopo: “I will set a very fine table. Everyone will come, to fill up, to savor you. You are the feast.” Passionate, sly, maternal, and poignant—often at the same time—Wainwright’s music is kinda like Joni, Odetta, and Yeats nakedly stomping grapes to paint wine-soaked canvases in a SoHo loft—only prettier and more straightforward than that metaphor. Wainwright and band are teaming with local legend Lisa Moscatiello and her band for an evening of natural-woman folky groove. Eat it up at 8:30 p.m. at Iota, 2832 Wilson Blvd., Arlington. $10. (703) 522-8340. (Pamela Murray Winters)