“Here’s a terrible little tale,” he said before “Jubilee Street,” “as opposed to the last one. And the next one for that matter. But that’s what we do.” ►

What that added up to last night was a wall-to-wall, gasoline-soaked set filled with fat riffs, enough heart-rattling energy to power all of West Hollywood, and a lot of very sweaty dudes. ►

ible for the only cheese-less combination of electro-pop and rock in today’s music—and France’s most famous band. Maybe it’s that effortlessly cool je ne sais quoi thing, or maybe it’s their penchant for beats and melodies so infectious, that even rock purists have to dance it out. ►

Part of his charm lies in his seeming reluctance to adapt to a rockstar image, instead hopping back and forth between guitar and piano as if the Echoplex was his basement jam session. ►

Boogarins don’t sacrifice the stage to their musical adeptness, either. For instance, during a half-minute or so of silence that interrupted an early song in the set, Almeida clicked his teeth into the microphone and spun his eyes around the room, a sly smile creeping across his face. ►

When was the last time you went to a rock show you could even vaguely consider to be romantic? That is some fucking showmanship. ►