Sleigh Bells Is The Product Of My Mother's Dreams.

While reading through the February issue of Nylon on a train ride to the middle of nowhere for a Superbowl Party (7 layer dip can motivate me to do just about anything),  I read a story about Sleigh Bells with this fine tidbit:

"In July 2008, [Alexis Krauss] was dining with her mother...at a Williamsburg restaurant, when their waiter, [Derek] Miller, mentioned he was looking for a female singer. Mom played indie-rock yenta, and soon the pair was talking shop."

Wha...? As a jewish twenty-something with a ton of meddling female relatives, this happens at EVERY meal, whether I'm around — "Carlye, isn't that waiter sweet? He likes writing! He works for a school newspaper, you should write together!" — or nowhere to be found — "I met the most adorable boy last night while waiting in line for a movie, you would have loved him. He likes music, and television and, oh! He was just like a young Cary Grant".

Everyone who selects a chosen person for this chosen person does a pretty crapola job, considering baby-faced teenage waiter isn't really my type, and, you know, I live in a yellow couch-holding apartment with that kid Donald.

That being said, it is incomprehensible that not only did a mother's mealtime meddling work, but caused deserved popularity and a tour with Yeasayer instead of necessity to ashamedly apologize and leave a 25% tip. Maybe the next time Grandma Leila thinks I should spend some time with the guy swirling my frozen yogurt, I'll heed her advice.

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oh, thanks:
photo from the clink