MARY LOU LORD

9:30 Club, Washington, D.C., February 21, 1998

Her days playing for loose change in Boston subway stations are (hopefully) behind her, yet Mary Lou Lord continues to sing to crowds as if they're all hapless commuters desperately in need of a lift. During her two-hour show in the nation's capital Saturday night, Lord giggled, chatted, smoked up a storm, and paced herself with a confident casualness obviously learned while performing in the most bustling (and stinky) of venues. You didn't want to clap for Lord this evening; you wanted to throw quarters.

"Keep the lights just like that," Lord laughed as she sauntered onto the darkened stage, ember-ended cigarette in hand. "I haven't gotten used to the spot yet." But when the soft orange lighting was soon ignited and the street-smart blonde strummed into show opener "Supergun" -- a not-so-subtle mid-tempo innuendo ("I close my eyes/But your supergun won't shoot") off her major-label debut Got No Shadow -- a phobia of center stage was never a problem.

In between Elvis impressions, anecdotes from her wander years, and a proper salute to Mary Kay pushers, Lord, backed by a capable five-piece band, dropped 16 songs into the night, most of which can be found on the new album. "His Lamest Flame," "She Had You," and "Two Boats," all about the evil that boys in love do, properly displayed the sweet pop hooks that have rescued the 32-year-old singer/songwriter from her days as a waifish indie outsider dreaming of just one shot.

"Down Along the Lea," about the other major river in London ("where all the riffraff and bad-asses hang out," Lord said) and "Western Union Desperate" were offered up as stripped-down homages to her folk-singer heroes, while "Some Jingle Jangle Morning" and "Lights Are Changing" proved that she can rock just as well as she can unveil a sad story.

If the laid-back evening had a downside, it was that fact that it was too laid-back. Because Lord runs such a loose, easy-goin' show, several huddles in the audience found it necessary to gab away before, during, and after songs. But Lord never got too pissed off. "Come on, guys, keep quiet," she said when the chitchat surpassed the volume of her guitar, but the admonition came off more like a dead-on impression of the annoying girl at work telling boring tales from her weekend.

"Shut up! I can do whatever I want!" Lord said upon returning -- alone -- after a short break. "This is my encore!" Fans shouted out requests from Got No Shadow," but the lady would have none of it. With breathless clarity and as much heart and compassion as she pumped into her own material, Lord covered Shawn Colvin's "Polaroids" and Richard Thompson's "1952 Vincent Black Lightning." Upon finishing the latter (and the show), Lord grinned, closed her eyes, and sighed: "Now that's a song."

SEAN DALY