It might not say much about Blair (the Brooklyn, by way of Silver Lake/Echo Park, by way of the Deep Sound songwriter seems to prefer just one name), but it says something about her, we think, so here it goes anyway. It was the first day of taping at Big Orange studio in Austin this past March and the South By Southwest Festival hadn't really gotten itself started yet. There were plenty of things that still needed to be hammered into place and there were any number of countless, interchangeable corporate banners and drapings that still needed to be hung with care. Blair and her band had been in town for a few days already, making some of the rounds and, as the Daytrotter beer supply was delivered on this afternoon, we shared with them and invited them to sit and rest on our freshly made, hay bale couches that had yet to acquire their rounded down edges. Phosphorescent was in the studio at the time that they arrived and as the sweet, cracking notes of those blissful country songs were being emitted from the other side of the walls, Saturday Night Live's Will Forte (MacGruber, the Closet Organizer and the fella they always call on to play a greasy, pedophile-type in a skit) and Jorma Taccone of Hot Rod and the Lonely Island/Digital Short posse stop by for a quick hang and hello. Blair had no idea, even when it was explained, who the two men were. She didn't bat an eye. Now, had those momentary visitors been Roger McGuinn, Neil Young or Donovan, you'd better bet your ass that she would have recognized them and been a little more agape, a little more staggered. She would have reacted with a stutter, or, actually, she may just have kept it bottled up inside, choosing instead to play it as cool as she seems to always play it. Blair has a lazy way about her. The way she talks seems to still employ a natural accent that she may have developed as a child - an accent that has yet to shake free from her words. The way she talks has just the slightest hint of a lisp and it's that slight hint that makes a conversation with her feel sorta innocent. It's this quality that we tend to hear in her lyrics as well, this untroubled, unworried piece of youth that gets bolted to the hulls of her songs about misconception and tender hearts. There's a lot that the young lady's still trying to figure out and that's what she's writing about. On "Hello Halo," a song that's been making plenty of rounds in the blogger/indie radio world, she sings, "Don't know what I'm sayin'" over and over again and she could go on with the thought and admit to even more insecurities and skepticism. It's the anchor to her lyrics - these characters who are unsure of the future and she tells their tales with an easiness that make her songs feel like loose feathers and the coats of kittens. We cuddle to them and they seem to cuddle right back into us, like real obedient insecurities should.