There’s absolutely no excuse for what I did…
There I was, working in a gloomy thursday in Tijuana when an unknown feeling crept along my body. At first I thought it was breakfast, but no, it was the usual Daily Grind doing it’s bad mojo on me. What to do? So young, so old, no direction in life, no definite set of beliefs, not enough similes to express my feelings.
So I called a few friends, deciding on a whim that I wanted, nay, needed to go to LA, road trip-style. I finished my work on Friday, dropped a work colleague (and fellow devourer of great music) at the airport and started to drive, near midnight, towards Los Angeles.
The pounding samples of David Bowie’s I’m deranged blasted through my iPod (the car had no stereo). I decided to leave one earbud out and the other in and then rolled down the window. The noise of the wind mixed with the music and I couldn’t be happier or more alive.
I decided to call it a day (I’ve been working 16 hour shifts all week long) near 1 am, so I checked in a little motel on the freeway. Next morning, the sun shine like any other day, the air was a little hot and the coffee was quite good. Jumped into the car, hit it the iPod and back on the road, listening to a nice mixture of Grant Lee (Buffalo and Phillips), Mark Kozelek (his solo work, Red House Painters and Sun Kil Moon) and Tom Petty’s second best album, Full Moon Fever.
The scenery was gorgeous, with little mauve and white flowers in the middle of the highway, a few nice oceanside stops to watch Our Great God, The Sea and the ever drumming noise in my head saying: “What in the name of all that’s is sane are you doing?”
Was I having regrets? Of course I was. I’ve never drove in the US before, the air conditioning didn’t really work and there was no flippin’ radio! But still…it was Los Angeles. I haven’t been there since 1996.
I met a very good friend of my cousin at Amoeba Music (quite simply, the best record store I ever put my stupid feet in), which kind of reminded me of Tower Records in the 90’s, when my cd collection was just a small box in my room.
This nice girl and her friend both gave me a quick tour around, took me to guitar center to get my stinky little paws on a microKorg keyboard (it’s a flippin’ beast o’ noise! BBC Radiophonic Workshop, we salute you!) and even had a great burger at In ‘n’ Out.
“Any plans for later?” was the question both made and I really had no idea.
“To be honest, I don’t even know why I’m having for dinner” I answered, in a playful silly tone.
So they took me to a oversee The Gray Monster (as the Chili Peppers describe LA in Deep Kick) from two viewing spots, one very near the Hollywood sign.
“Come to a gig, you’ll like the place”.
“Anyone I know?”
“Probably not!”.
My kind of gig.
So, after a few quick errands and a Tamarind slurpee (actually more like crushed ice with a bunch of tamarind pulp mixed in), we got to this place called The Knitting Factory, which I gotta admit didn’t look too nice, but inside, well, remember how I said I felt Amoeba Records was like Tower Records in the 90’s? Well, The Knitting Factory was just what I imagined a proper rock club would be like in the 90’s.
Hey, any place where there’s a big Ramones badge gets the big up from me.
With backstage passes (courtesy of Anisha, the friendly rock promoter), I took a quick gander at the shady and ominous underworld of rock. To be honest, it’s not too different as the one in Mexico, although I gotta say that it “feels” like rock gets a little more love in the US than in Mexico. It’s a hunch, really, no evidence and I might be wrong.
So, backstage, musicians and roadies (actually, no roadies, just hanger ons like me) prepping up, when I overhear this conversation between two dudes about Dr. Who. I decided to join in and one of them (his name was Salvatore) kinda suggested that I check out the set of the band he was playing with, Io Echo. I suggested him to check a few series (Spaced, Black Books, IT Crowd, Life on Mars) and shook hands.
I told Linda (the friendly girl that so graciously gave me a tour of LA) that I just love that “sense of dread” (or energy or whatever) you get before a gig. You can just feel it in the air, supercharging the attitudes and feelings of the musicians, growing so much until it explodes on stage. Let me tell you this, it showed, with flying colours. Let’s see a quick round up of the guilty parties involved:
Dead Sara: They opened the gig and the sheer energy Emily Armstrong (singer) has really dissipated that energy and “sense of dread”. They sound like a weird mix between Veruca Salt, with a dash of Hole and some rightful screaming near the caliber of Pet. The guitar player, Siouxsie Medley (what a great name!), really did a few cool riffs here and there, enough to warrant a few “classic rock moments”, like, I dunno, standing on top of an amplifier and taking all the music in. Fun times. The stand out track? Mother Teresa. Check them out right here.
Endless Hallway: I kind of missed some bits from their set, but what I heard was quite good. A little electronic jiggery pokery over moments of good ol’ fashioned rock peppered the set. I would definitely will listen to them a little more. I think the track I remember the most is Toppled Dynamo. They still haven’t a record out, but there’s a few nice tunes in this trusty little site.
Io Echo: Even if I don’t give the impression, I am a man of my word. I arrived just in time just to see the beginning of the set. I remember that I asked Salvatore what genre were they (I do have a problem saying the word genre…not because I hate the term, I just can’t pronounce the damn word!). His answer? Rock. With a little dark girl thing. It sounds a little iffy, but it’s the best way to describe their music. It’s rock, it’s creepy and it’s right there, with atmospheric keyboards, guitar feedback (love ‘em!) and a fantastic lead singer that made me, a Beatles hater, actually like a song by the Fab Four. I bought a cd from them at the end of the show and talked with them for a while. More on that later, in the meantime, why don’t you pay them a visit at their myspace?
Sonny: One word: INTENSE. Another band with a mixture of electronica and rock, with an excessively charismatic frontman (who is Sonny) and a band armed to the teeth with crazy loops, ebow abuse and enough energy to make San Andrews Fault think twice about messing with this fine city. I didn’t get the name of the songs (I was flippin’ tired) but I’m pretty sure they played Moss. The voice of Sonny reminds me a bit of Claudio Sanchez from Coheed and Cambria, just a little more soothing. Check their sonic waves of madness right here.
So, after the show ended, I decided to go and have a quick chat with the nice fellas from Io Echo. Classy and wonderful people, all of them. I asked Io (the lovely singer) what were the influences and The Smiths got checked. She also told me about Cursive and Radiohead (Kid A and Amnesiac). It was quite nice to find there’s someone else who really enjoys amnesiac (I tried to remember the name of Packt like sardines in a crushed tin can, but failed to pronounce it properly, instead went for the magic of I might be wrong.). We talked a bit more about music (She likes Ida and Godspeed! You black Emperor!, so she’s well educated!), took a few pics and then parted on our merry ways. On the way out I slapped my head, since I remembered that the influence I felt a lot on the song I’m on fire was Stabbing Westward’s Crushing Me (my fave song from their second cd).
I spoke to Linda and Anisha a bit more and then searched for a hotel. I settled for a Avant-Garde (in the Bukowski way) hotel in La Brea, went for a nice salad at Ihop and lost a few hours on an Internet Cafe. I lost all sleep near 6 am and decided to go to a coin op washing place, where I didn’t met a shopgirl that looked like Claire Danes, but I hummed Lilly and Parrots while I did my washing. I played some Ms. Pacman (I made a record, yay me!) and then went for breakfast with Linda and her mom at Ihop.
I really had to leave for Tijuana to catch my plane back to Mexico, so I said my goodbyes in a nail saloon and hightailed back to Mexico, with a few stops for gas and a nice long look at the sea. Tom Petty kept me company, while I tried (and failed) to sing Runnin’ down a dream.
Got to Tijuana, hopped on the plane, arrived at Toluca, went home and slept like a little baby. It was a great road trip. No, I didn’t have a “coming of age” moment, I’m not a better man and I’ll probably be cranky the rest of the week (and at the end of the month, when the bill comes and I see that maybe I bought ten cds too many at Amoeba). On the bright side, I did things I always wanted to do: a gig in LA, using coin op washing machines, using a self service pump and not failing, getting into cool conversations with unknown people. Little things that probably are meaningless, but I just wanted to do. I didn’t get to see Los Angeles as Bukowski described them ( I was at the wrong side ) and I probably could’ve spend less money, but it was damn worth it.
Oh, and I got to hear Mistress (by Red House Painters) and Runnin’ down a dream (by Tom Petty) while doing a 100 mile per. I got to say “A Repo Man’s life is always intense” to a group of random strangers (poor graduates!). And I have something new to talk and rant about.
I love life.
Tags: Dead Sara, Io Echo, Knitting club, Sonny
