Arkansas Democrat-Gazette 05/24/06 Kyle Brazzel Watch Me Worry: Sara Thomas and the Unkindest Cut

The prospect of a dozen or so hip, trend-setting twentysomethings gathering to watch a public-television special is something that exists mostly in the wildest dreams of public television executives. But the dream came true on a recent Wednesday at 6:30 in the evening, when Sara Thomas, headliner of The Sara Thomas Band, invited a group of friends over for a watch party celebrating the premiere of a concert she’d performed for broadcast by the Arkansas Educational Television Network. When her guests arrived, Thomas was standing at the stove, preparing cheese dip in a double-boiler. The sun was still shining, and the party was officially scheduled to go only as long as the television special: half an hour. It was almost as improbable as a group of young people getting together to watch Wheel of Fortune. Thomas writes her own songs, plays her own guitar and can sound reflective one moment, saucy the next. She has a look that would be easy to exploit - auburn hair, high cheekbones - but she is not bubble gum. Licorice, maybe - earthy and spicy. When her singing and strumming began to sound from the TV, the food comparison that came most readily to Thomas’ mind, and to Thomas’ mind only, was to a pancake. “Oh, no,” she said. “It’s flat. I knew it would be.” Seated next to Thomas was her boyfriend, T.J. Deeter, who has played in a series of bands himself. Deeter had missed the taping of the special after a tire on his car blew out during the drive from Little Rock to Conway, where AETN is based. Deeter attempted to offer reassurance. “I like the backdrop,” he said, referring to the field of red geometric shapes against which Thomas was positioned. “It’s very American Bandstand.” Chach Bursey, a friend of the couple’s, strayed even further off-topic. He looked back and forth from the flesh-and-blood Sara to the two-dimensional one. Each was dressed in a black tank top and a patterned, fitted skirt. “Hey,” he said. “You’re wearing the same thing.” This only added to Thomas’ anxiety. “I know,” she said, sounding apologetic. “It’s my only outfit.” “I apologized to my hairdresser for how my hair looks,” she added. The on-screen Sara launched into one of her signature songs, called “Watch Me Drink.” Sample lyric: “I want to feel better than I think/watch me drink.” To stave off further mortifications, the on-the-couch Sara launched into a narrative about visiting a public- television studio. “Does anybody remember The Good Times Picture Show?” she asked. “When I got there, I looked for The Good Times Picture Show, but they don’t have it anymore. I mean, remember how the host would talk on the phone to, like, Gregory Peck?” “Ooh!” she blurted. “Maybe I’ll get to go on a telethon!” Deeter reminded his girlfriend that her guests had come to hear her play music on television, not talk for 30 minutes in person. She sat back silently for a few bars. Then another musician in the crowd mentioned he was forming a new band. Asking if he shared her strategy for online self-promotion, Thomas continued her self-effacement. “Are you going to have a page on MySpace? You don’t have to link to mine, but I’ll link to yours.” On television, Thomas was telling a cute story about how the stick-on labels she had applied to copies of her debut CD had caused the stereos of everyone who bought one to malfunction. “Shut up!” she yelled at herself. “Shut up!” A few minutes later, she did, if unintentionally. In the middle of a song, the screen cut to a test pattern and a bit of editing-room jargon flashed on-screen. It said, “Cut 24.” When the film returned to the program, the closing credits were rolling. Thomas interpreted the glitch as validation of her own self-doubt. “They hated me!” she cried. Then she finally saw a bright side. “Maybe ‘Cut 24’ should be the name of my next CD.”