"This is why we walk around the city," I reminded myself after circling the block three times today, looking for free parking. I finally gave in and coughed up all I had -- two bucks in spare change -- to park in the East End garage.

Juliet Lloyd was already playing by the time I got to High Fidelity. The room was packed with fans, Club Passes slung around most of their necks, glasses of wine in hand. It was only 7 p.m. or so, but the night was already well under way as Lloyd's honey-smooth vocals spilled out and over the audience. I ordered a water and settled into the low-key set. Lloyd's songs were all very heartfelt and sincere, and on "Lonely Streets" it was easy to picture her wandering around in the rain, lamenting the loss of a loved one.

When she wasn't singing or playing, Lloyd turned and paid attention to her band members, especially during guitar and bass solos. There seemed to be a genuine camaraderie among the bunch, though I did spot the drummer yawn a few times. But maybe I'm just projecting there.