The Mezzanine Owls w/ LoveLikeFire, The Henry Clay People, and Eli "Paperboy" Reed @ Spaceland 05-19-08

Boy, last night was one of those perfect nights at Spaceland that reminds you why you live in LA. Was it written in the stars, for all oracles to see, that Spaceland was the place to be? It may have been as Access Silverlake (zomg!!!!!11!1one!!1one1!) saw an enormous turnout of local scenesters. Members of The Happy Hollows, EXITMUSIC, The Entrance Band, The Transmissions, The Monolators, The Natural Disasters, Radars to the Sky, and The Voyeurs were all seen in attendance. Local scene media gurus at the show included photogs Simon Cardoza and Benjamin Hoste; Buzzbands, Rock Insider, and Web In Front represented the Blogforce; not to mention Thrillhouse Productions and Kat Corbett of KROQ fame.


Eli "Paperboy" Reed and The True Loves were the improbable openers on tour from Boston. (Fuck Boston, by the way.) Whiteboy's got some pipes! The soul singer and his backup band were an utter joy, bringing to mind at various times Sam Cooke, Stevie Wonder, and even the Neville Brothers. Real meaty Blues Brothers-type stuff.

It was very obvious that Reed and his band had a faithful following that packed the house early, as the crowd was heavier in the older-folks and pretty-people departments than what might be considered normal on a Monday night. But early-arriving gazers were still in abundance and it was amusing to watch their stone-cold, sad stares over the course of the set convert to shining smiles and squinted eyes as they swayed and bopped to the liquid charisma that Reed bled out of the Spaceland PA. You could almost see the cloud-shaped thought bubbles over their heads, with words, written in italics: "So this is what music must sound like!"

Eli "Paperboy" Reed is a real talent. No question about it.

But is his act the genuine article? It's tough to say. At worst I was reminded of Jack Black's cover of "Let's Get It On" in High Fidelity, and it was hard to ignore a sneaking sense that what I was really looking at was a crooked preacher or snake oil salesman, well-schooled in the art of repackaging easy-to-swallow soul for legions of roof-dwelling hipsters on the east coast. (CDs priced at $15 didn't help dispel the notion. And the fact that band members' nicknames include "Funkatron," "Man Hawk," and "Robocop Scientist" pretty much confirm it.) I think it is up to the individual to decide whether or not that matters though, because kitschy or not, it sounded fucking incredible. Almost the entire main section of the room was dancing. I myself willingly submitted.

San Francisco's LoveLikeFire, a female-fronted dreamy-rock band, came to deliver. There was no messing around. Cascading drums do me right always, but LoveLikeFire also had some drumming that was thundering, driving, and almost tribal. Ann Yu's vocals took the forefront -- more so than what is the norm in the genre -- and I think that is what appealed to me about the band. Usually in your dreampop / shoegaze / psych rock groups there's a dynamic where no particular band member stands-out; everything meshes together into a single wall of sonic wash. But each of the members of LoveLikeFire felt like four very clearly defined pillars of the same shimmery-fog obscured temple. I really dug it. Would see them again.







I said last week that you can start to imagine The Mezzanine Owls playing larger venues and filling more space with their sound. Last night they delivered a flawless set and, for the first time, I saw Jack Burnside as a rock star. He even had glimpses of (*gasp*) swagger. The band looked decidedly confident in their music, as well they should. Five months ago I wrote "I have this feeling that if I keep going to see them, at some show, I'm going to go "Oh, shit. I get it now" and fall in love." Well, the time has come. The time has come to revisit the "Top 5 favorite Los Angeles bands" list and make some... adjustments.

You always read about The Mezzanine Owls' shimmering guitars, droning soundscapes, and distant vocals. You never read about Pauline Mu, the band's drummer. I don't have a music conservatory education on drumming, but has a layman observer, she's fucking terrific. I think Mu deserves substantial credit for the band's live show presence because the work she does absolutely steers the ship. I'm of the opinion that she is invaluable to the band's identity.

I was prepared to call "Ghost Ship" the crown jewel of the evening (it fills-out and pays-off so much better live than on record) until The Mezz Owls closed with an intellect-shattering performance of "Lightbulb," so good that I found myself not studying my shoelaces, but pogoing up and down. Jumping up and down at a Mezzanine Owls show? O rly? Ya rly.









The Henry Clay People (in their core four man formation) closed-out the night to a rather... aherm... "lubricated" crowd of eager loyalists hungry for pretension-free, red blooded rock anthems. It was a splendid display of community fellowship, and The Henry Clay People played the kind of set that makes you feel like you are living in a John Hughes movie.

They opened with three news songs which all sounded pretty solid. The third one (not sure of the name) brought Rick Springfield to mind and it was my favorite. There was no coordinated rock jumping at this show, but there was a crowd-member count-off and His Bloggership was drafted into service. I failed miserably (Who can't count to four?!) and my death was called for from the stage. (Yes, it actually was!) High point of the set? In the crowd, Christian Biel (The Transmissions) jumped on the back of Andy Spitser (Radars to the Sky) and the newly formed two-headed beast accepted Joey Siara's guitar for a spell, playing together. (Or trying to)






Having had a little too much fun, I mistakenly thought I should engage in commerce with the ever-present tamale man who appears like a ghost in the night around 1am nearly every time I go to Spaceland. And now, in the fleshy vessel that is my body, the tamale itself is ever-present. I assure you, like 300 Spartans at Thermopylae, the vigilant culinary delight of Mexican origin is holding the gap. Should I bloat and die, let there be no doubt as to the cause.

Stay tuned for another Classical Geek Theatre Galaga Challenge! update... this one is going to get ugly.