By LA Weekly
By Henry Rollins
By Weekly Photographers
By Shea Serrano
By Nate "Igor" Smith
By Dan Weiss
By Erica E. Phillips
By Kai Flanders
BLECTUM FROM BLECHDOM, CAPTAIN AHAB, FOOT VILLAGE AT THE SMELL
Call them an electronic duo if you insist, but Blectum From Blechdom's Kristin Erickson (aka Kevin Blechdom) and Bevin Kelley (as Blevin Blectum) prefer a scabrously chuckly toe-tapper brand of art that just happens to be so, so glitchy and noisy and full of intellectual challenges along the way. Mills College grads they are. They've got their conceptual chops together, and they actually broke up shortly after the release of their awesome, prizewinning first album, The Messy Jesse Fiesta (2001), with both doing solo work under their Blectum and Blechdom stage names. They've performed sporadically since re-forming as a duo in 2007, and this particular show is a rare, precious and beautiful thing. Plus the sincerely epic Captain Ahab on "the end of irony," and an audio colonoscopy from L.A.'s Foot Village. (John Payne)
Also playing Saturday: THE TUBES, SUBURBAN SKIES, FULLY LOADED at Coach House; JIMMY Z, DUBLUVA, JET WEST, JONATHAN BLAKE SALAZAR at Dakota Lounge; DUM DUM GIRLS, CROCODILES at Detroit Bar; HOT BISCUIT at El Cid; THE RISING, HOLLYWOOD U2 at Galaxy Theater; CARTE BLANCHE, DESTRUCTO at Key Club; LOS PINGUOS at Levitt Pavilion Pasadena; TRUC TIEP THU HINH V66 at Long Beach Terrace Theatre; MOTO, MIDNIGHT CREEPS, SPURTS at Redwood Bar & Grill; CAGE at the Roxy; BATHS at the Troubador (see Music feature); LED ZEPAGAIN, ROLLING THE STONES, FAN HALEN, BONFIRE, CUBENSIS at the Waterfront.
9081 Santa Monica Blvd.
West Hollywood, CA 90069
Category: Bars and Clubs
Region: West Hollywood
2200 Beverly Blvd.
Los Angeles, CA 90057
Category: Bars and Clubs
Region: Out of Town
RIOT GRRL CARNIVAL AT THE SMELL
Apart from the patriotic fireworks and feel-good pomp and circumstance of typical Fourth of July concerts, the Smell presents a contrarian riot-grrl celebration to benefit the Downtown Women's Center. Las Sangronas y El Cabrón crank out a crudely effective, caustically feral brand of 1977-style punk, as Susy rants unsentimentally about such grim subjects as "Pipe Dream," "Bitter Youth" and the ominously sludgy "Cold Dead Valley Girl." They're billed with the fierce Georgian tribe Stella Pace, whose "vocal harmonic revolution" and stirring melodies evoke X-Ray Spex. San Gabriel Valley's Sin Remedio create "border-hoppin' hardcore" that contrasts the sonic silliness of "Chipmunk Grind" with melodic experiments like "Aun Despierto" and the trio's namesake song, "Sin Remedio." Desmadre en Krisis hail from "San Joakland," spitting out guttural Spanish-language hardcore, while Sacramento/Chico femmes Social Concern's heavy punk anthems are fueled by Sarah's soulful howling. Locals Angustia are far less interested in hooks, slamming out metallic riffs at hardcore tempos with shredded cookie-monster vocals. Happy birthday, America, but get ready for another revolution. (Falling James)
EAGLE WINGED PALACE AT ECHO COUNTRY OUTPOST
Riding a wave of soaring, soothing harmonies, the alt-folk collective Eagle Winged Palace make their full-length debut with the just-out Where We're Coming From. And where, exactly, are these Angelenos coming from? Leader Cashew (ex-Prix) conjures old-timey reveries that evoke California's vanishing pastoral past, buttressed by an all-femme choir of angelic voices. "Timber" is spiked with gentle acoustic guitars, while Michelle Vidal, Meegan Michel and Cashew's wife, "Uncle" Rhea Harding, blend their vocals like a psychedelicized Fifth Dimension. The hushed harmonies light up "Movin' on to Avalon" with a warm choral glow, while "Skeleton Crew" is a weirdly engrossing sea chantey about a siren beguiling a pirate. "He's sailed too long," the women sing, "He's robbed so much he even stole his own soul." (Falling James)
Also playing Sunday: JULY 4TH FIREWORKS SPECTACULAR: VINCE GILL, LOS ANGELES PHILHARMONIC, JOHN MORRIS RUSSELL, U.S. AIR FORCE BAND OF THE GOLDEN WEST at the Hollywood Bowl; THE SPAZMATICS at Key Club; ATIF ASLAM at Long Beach Terrace Theatre; WHICH ONE'S PINK?, QUEEN NATION, BELLADONNA, DESPERADO, NO DUH, CABO VERDE CRETCHEU at the Waterfront.
THE OUTLINE, SUPERHUMANOIDS AT THE BOOTLEG THEATER
Kicking off a Monday-night residency at the Bootleg is the Outline, an L.A.-born-and-bred band that combines sharp experimentalism, pop sensibility, punk energy and a propensity for the epic into a winning and sorely overlooked mix. The trio's 2009 album, Phantasmagoria, went largely unpromoted, despite the fact that the Outline had an earlier hit on its hands with the soaring rock anthem "Shotgun." But the new Who You LoveEP marks a near rebirth, with lead-off track "Isolene" pitting the mathiness of Dismemberment Plan against glitchy effects and downturned post-punk melodies. Opener Superhumanoids may be one of the most promising unheard talents in the city right now — a sorta twee, sorta angular, sorta ethereal bedroom pop band that has an impeccable ear for the sort o' delicate beauty that weaker acts die trying to achieve. Singers Cameron Parkins and Sarah Chernoff also put in time with garage-punks the Franks, but here they coo comely over soundscapes that wouldn't sound out of place on a Byrne-Eno production. (Chris Martins)
FOL CHEN AT THE ECHO
Highland Park's Fol Chen is a mysterious entity with some very curious ties. For one, the six-piece indie art-pop ensemble shares a couple of members with the darkly experimental Liars. They've also featured bona fide Lakers Girls in a music video, seem to be the last scions of a retired Long Island radio station, and at least one of them is an award-winning film director whose 2001 gay-life opus, Punks, was produced by Babyface. Returning to the middle point however, Fol Chen has fashioned an odd conceptual existence for itself, whereby the band members initially rose up against a faceless, radio-quashing entity named John Shade (see 2009's Part I: John Shade, Your Fortune's Made) only to discover (on the just-released Part II: The New December) that the very code they'd used to defeat the beast has morphed into a virus that garbles text and language willy-nilly. All that means to you is that they'll wear masks when they perform their deliciously cut-up, electro chamber-pop. (Chris Martins)