I was traipsing around in open-toed shoes again yesterday. Open toed shoes and a light cotton jacket.
However, I was freezing when I woke up this morning because, unlike back in BC, indoors are rarely heated in L.A. So I guess it’s a tradeoff.
I went out last night to L.A.’s Most Alternative Venue, Spaceland, to see The Subways. Who produced a lot of sound for only having three people, two of which were throwing themselves around stage, and all of whom looked well under the Spaceland entry age of 21. I would have liked to see Living Things, but they went on too late – Silverlake parking regulations dictated that I move my car by 11. I liked “Ahead of the Lions” though, so I was sorry I couldn’t stay awake and keep my car in place long enough for that part of the show.
The Subways, for the record, sound familiar because they have an indie radio single out (“Rock’n’Roll Queen”) as well as a track on “Music From The O.C. Mix 5”. And everyone in the club recognized the latter track, although I’d bet that every single one would deny that’s where they heard it. But the songs are catchy and actually quite good, so I’d recommend pricking one’s ears up when they come on the radio. Even my music snob friend agreed they didn’t suck.
Opening act was Group Sounds, who weren’t bad, but I’m just not a fan of the “post punk” vocal style. It’s the half yelling, half singing method. I will likely never get into that. I did, however, manage to carry on a discussion over it about the meaning of “indie” as a genre term with my friend:
ME: “Remember when ‘indie’ described a label’s status, not the music genre? Back then, you had to describe bands using a mishmash of genres and other bands. Like saying they were kind of rock’n’roll with Fugazi-influenced vocals, or that they were a cross between the Sex Pistols and Franz Ferdinand. Now, you can just say a band is indie and everyone will know what they sound like!”
FRIEND: “You mean that they suck?”
ME: “Probably.”
The band wasn’t anything extraordinary, and they got less extraordinary when I realized that the keyboard player, who had been stripping down over the course of the show, was actually naked. I did not need to see “Sexy Joe”‘s junk, thank you very much.
My boss just walked in so I do have to work. Pity. This is just winter in Los Angeles: time to swap the beach for some more pretentious indie music.
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