What do you call a birthday party for no one in particular? Donuts! Chew on that long enough and the sugar seeps swiftly from blood to brain, getting you bouncing giant balloons of your heads with strangers, twirling around doing ye old soccer moves, a quick side-step and whack, your forehead smashes against the mirror-tiled pillar in the middle of La Cita. Why is there a pillar there?! I guess there’s just something about We Are the World that gets a person all hippety hoppety. Even without Sir Heffington’s dance troupe, WATW’s core members busted a trapezoid up in this piece tonight. Hecuba followed, stationing themselves on the tiny rose-tinted stage–marionettes, they’re so elbows, it’s practically delicate. Soft, contoured, the way glaze melts into fibrous tissue…oops, slipping into donut talk again. Indian Jewelry dropped a Texas-size weirdness on us. The other two bands sort of thrive on acidic minimalism, percussive dialectic that sits on the tip of your nose and taps. Indian Jewelry is super noisy, with a capital ”N” for holy molecularoni. Strobed and stretched, big drums crawling right into your eyeballs and swimming to the back, where they dig a hole and bury themselves in the sand.

– Daiana Feuer