The lineup for the evening made for a cool mix of very different styles and emotions. Noveller opened with loud loops of sounds from a bow pulled over guitar strings, twisted knobs and plucking. The noises were intense and lovely, like an iceberg melting. She worked with the delicacy of an embalmer, producing music that could underscore the darkest Six Feet Under episode.

Tune-Yards—everythingist Merrill Garbus and bassist Nate Brenner—approached with the energy of a band right at the start of their tour (L.A. was their second show). I saw Garbus open for Micachu & the Shapes back in July 2009, and it’s obvious how hard she’s been working since then. Songs that took 30 seconds or more to sync up back then she did in less than 10, and she even transitioned between songs a couple times with such fluidity the audience didn’t have a chance to applaud.

Tune-Yards
Even though her performance was much cleaner, she’s still a hands-on, down-in-the-dirt, makeshift musician—call her the MacGyver of indie music—so we didn’t lose any of the raw experience of watching her live. Just as she was about to finish a flawless set that included a stunning rendition of “Powa” and an impressive new tune, Garbus slipped up a couple times with her drumstick (something she blamed on the snot coming out of her nose from a lingering cold), giggled “Gross!” and took us out with a bouncy, fun number that left us as happy as she was to be there.

Then came Xiu Xiu. Now, I’m generally not drawn to people I can’t picture hanging out with a bag of Doritos watching something brainlessly funny on TV, but I was willing to give this Jamie Stewart guy a chance. If you know anything about Stewart, you know he likes being controversial, with a photo of an Asian male prostitute for an album cover and lyrics like “Your father was the first man inside of you.” So when I picture Stewart hanging out, he’s curled up in a fetal position on a bare mattress in the corner naked and sobbing. You know, for catharsis. And that’s what the set felt like: an hour of cathartic release of Stewart’s tragic experiences and fears. Whee!

Now, I know there’s a place for this, and honestly I think the music’s fantastic. It sounds like space traffic and Björk/Homogenic noises, but newer and fresher (bandmate Angela Seo uses a Nintendo DS in a couple songs, after all). But not only does listening to other people cry make me uncomfortable, but Stewart seemed so into his persona that he didn’t acknowledge the audience at all. And the audience was pretty funny, yelling things like “Epic!” and “I enjoy [song suggestion]” followed by “Or just stick to the set list! You’re doing great!” But Xiu Xiu couldn’t crack a smile, or even nod at us—no, that just wouldn’t look tragic enough.

—Amber Hollingsworth

White Denim played for 35 minutes straight with Josh Block (drummer) and James Patrelli (lead singer/guitarist) doing the pee-pee dance and bassist Steve Terebecki looking like a confident chinchilla wrangling a python (he only pretended to drink the iced tea, and actually dumped it out behind him when the others weren’t looking). They ran through several songs from their latest album, Fits, spliced between new and old jams. The band seemed to be having fun making us all wonder, “Is this the show? Are they…? What is going on?!”

In a perfect release of tension, White Denim broke into their first whole, actual song, followed by some surprisingly lovely vocals coming from Patrelli, who removed his glasses and sexy-shrieked like James Brown for us. By the time they got to “I Start To Run,” the crowd was totally onboard. Some had even gone overboard and threw their heads around in uncontrolled spasms.

The band closed out the set and headed backstage—a completely windowed room upstairs where we watched Josh and James take a few puffs on cigarettes and awaited their return. They descended the stairs, poised and refreshed, and performed the mellowed-out “I’d Have It Just The Way We Were” and personal favorite “Don’t Look That Way At It.” Even the mom in the audience standing next to me approved of these ones. Turns out these boys clean up pretty nice, actually.

—Amber Hollingsworth

Download: White Denim “I Start To Run”

(from Fits out now on Full Time Hobby)

White Denim has avoided being labeled for several years now, but after a giant tour and the release of their third album, this Austin trio is rocking a little too hard to be ignored. Bassist Steve Terebecki talks about satanic nightmares and names my sister’s baby. This interview by Amber Hollingsworth.

You wrote ‘Sex Prayer’ on the new album, Fits. What’s a sex prayer?
Steve Terebecki (bass): It actually had another name. For an instrumental track it could be anything, you know. So we all just throw names out for our songs, and James threw out ‘Sex Prayer,’ and I thought it fit it really well. It fit it better than the other title, which was ‘Hell Yeah, Nostradamus.’
You guys named your band that same way, right? You just threw funny names out?
Steve Terebecki: Pretty much. We had a band before called Parque Touch, and when the singer moved we had to change our name. We were sitting down and it was the first day we were talking about having to change our name. We talked about Totally Revolution, and we just said, ‘It’d be good if we just picked a really crappy name.’ White Denim is a crappy name I’d been kicking around for a few years, so I said it and they latched on to it and that’s how it ended up being the name of our band. Of course, we didn’t realize we’d actually be touring and have to answer to it.
You don’t regret it, right?
Steve Terebecki: No, we don’t regret it. I think it’s better than having some super-thought-out philosophical name.
My sister lives in Austin and she’s having a baby this spring. Do you think you could name the baby right now using the same technique?
Steve Terebecki: Aw, man—I had some really good baby names recently …
Do you have any advice for babies being born right now?
Steve Terebecki: Um—don’t listen to your parents?
Perfect. Some of your music videos are pretty goofy—in ‘I Start to Run,’ you run off to find an angel who gives you a gun so you can rescue your bandmates who are being held captive by desert pirates or something. Is music funny to you guys?
Steve Terebecki: We like to have a sense of humor about it. I think a lot of people take it too seriously. I don’t think there are enough musicians that are making really cool music and have a sense of humor about it. It’s sort of paying homage to Captain Beefheart and Frank Zappa a little bit. Because they were amazing songwriters and composers, but they were ridiculous—way goofier than we are. We’re sort of going down that road. But, you know, Nickelback is pretty funny. Have you heard that song ‘Something In Your Mouth’? They have to have a little bit of a sense of humor or they’re just complete idiots. It could be the latter, but I like to give people the benefit of the doubt.
Do you have nightmares?
Steve Terebecki: I used to. I used to have these really creepy nightmares/hallucinations where I’d wake up from the nightmare and I’d imagine that I was seeing things while I was awake. And I’d hear a really small sound, like the A/C running, and I would focus in on it and it would get louder and louder and louder and it would consume me.
What were these nightmares?
Steve Terebecki: I’m trying to remember, because they stopped when I was 11, and I haven’t had many since.
You remember when they stopped?
Steve Terebecki: I do, because it happened constantly from as early as I can remember until I was 11. It was all a really weird atmosphere, I can’t even explain it to you. It was pretty satanic, a lot of blood—blood everywhere. I remember my mom dying a lot. So basically the worst things for a kid to dream!
Well, I’m glad that’s over. Otherwise you might be in some other band now, like Nickelback.
Steve Terebecki: Seriously.
In the ‘Shake Shake Shake’ video, who’s the girl washing the car? She’s a total babe.
Steve Terebecki: I talked to her but I actually don’t know who she is. That was filmed in London, and the director—the same guy who directed the ‘I Start to Run’ video—he found everybody on some extras list. She’s great though.
The video totally has this look that it’s just people you guys know.
Steve Terebecki: That’s one reason we got Tom [Haines] to make another video for us—he did such a good job on ‘Shake Shake Shake’ and we just had a blast making it.
So [vocalist/guitarist] James [Petralli] was almost a major league baseball player?
Steve Terebecki: I guess ‘almost’ as in he was closer than I was! He played baseball in high school, and his dad was a major league baseball player and his brother is. But he didn’t like it as much as music.
What’s your alter-ego career then?
Steve Terebecki: I worked at a museum for four years and I have a degree in sociology. I’d always been into music but I didn’t actually think I’d ever spend a lot of time trying to make a living doing it. So that’s why I got the sociology degree.
Has that come into play in any of your songwriting?
Steve Terebecki: Not in my songwriting—just dorking out with statistics and all that.
What would [drummer] Josh [Block]’s alter-ego career be?
Steve Terebecki: I’d have to say he’s a connoisseur of plants. He used to be in the plant business. He actually got James and I both jobs in the plant business before we started touring. We were all doing that. In the plant business.
Like nurseries?
Steve Terebecki: Yep, nurseries.
You can listen to all of the Let’s Talk About It EP and Exposion album on your website, and when I downloaded Fits off iTunes (for only $7.99!) I got 23 tracks! Why is White Denim so generous?
Steve Terebecki: What happened with Exposion is we released it online only last November with a local Austin company. We were trying to do something different, and it totally backfired. So really as an apology to our fans, we decided to throw in Exposion for free with Fits. There are a lot of people who subscribed to get the vinyl and they never got it, and it was kind of a fiasco and we had to refund their money. Then finally, eleven months later, we got Fits out, so we just gave them and everyone else Exposion for free along with it. As much as we like to be called generous, we were really just trying to redeem ourselves.
Works for the fans! I see the acronym DCWYW appears on all the albums in some form or another—what does that stand for?
Steve Terebecki: ‘Don’t Care What You Want.’ That’s the only lyrics in the song. Back in the day, actually all of our songs were just acronyms like that. There’s one other song that kept the acronym: ‘WDA.’ But other than those two, we gave the rest real titles.
What’s ‘WDA’?
Steve Terebecki: ‘White Denim in A.’ The key of A.
When’s your birthday?
Steve Terebecki: September 27. Libra. It says I’m really fair and balanced, like Fox News. I see both sides of the coin and I’m a good mediator. Since there’s three of us in the band, I do a lot of mediating. It’s good that I’m a Libra, otherwise I don’t know.
There might not be a White Denim!
Steve Terebecki: Exactly.
So name the baby.
Steve Terebecki: The one that popped into my head was Seabass. I really like redneck stuff, and Seabass is just an awesome name.
It’s 2010—do you have any predictions for the future?
Steve Terebecki: 2010 I’m excited about, but I’m really excited about 2012. Well, it’s supposed to be the real Age of Aquarius. All the hippies tried to induce an Age of Aquarius at the end of the ’60s, and obviously you can’t jumpstart an age. It’s ridiculous they tried—I mean it’s cool that they did, but it’s really gonna happen in 2012, you know? And if the world doesn’t end, it’s gonna be a totally awesome, groovy place.

WHITE DENIM WITH BRAZOS ON TUE., JAN. 19, AT THE TROUBADOUR, 9081 SANTA MONICA BLVD., WEST HOLLYWOOD. 8PM / $12-$14 / ALL AGES. TROUBADOUR.COM. WHITE DENIM’S FITS IS OUT NOW ON FULL TIME HOBBY. VISIT WHITE DENIM AT WHITEDENIMMUSIC.COM OR MYSPACE.COM/WHITEDENIMMUSIC.

(from Gorilla Manor out in February on Frenchkiss)

L.A. darlings Local Natives have had a big year—a UK tour, a record deal, and a road trip with Fool’s Gold and Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros. Bassist Andy Hamm stepped outside on a chilly afternoon in Seattle to share with us some of the highlights. This interview by Amber Hollingsworth.

I saw you guys open at the El Rey last month and I thought you just stole the show. I’m so excited to hear you’re touring with Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros—how did that come together?
Andy Hamm: We hung out with a couple of guys from Fool’s Gold, who are also on the tour, and they asked us to jump on. We were like, “God, Fool’s Gold already has anywhere from 7 to 11 members, and Edward Sharpe has anywhere from 12 to 15,” but it’s cool because it’s like an L.A. representation. I think it’s hard to find three bands that get along and all are doing their own thing—nobody’s really stepping on each other’s toes stylewise or musically.
What’s it like hanging out with a huge troupe of hippies? I just imagine so many hugs on this tour.
Andy Hamm: One big happy hippy family? Yeah, everybody’s really cool. There are so many of them, you hang out with a new person every night. And on stage, we play during the Edward Sharpe set, sometimes a bunch of their guys jump up on one of our songs, and same thing for Fool’s Gold. Edward Sharpe lets us use a bunch of their equipment too, and the guys who do sound for our shows actually played in Fool’s Gold. So yeah, the more I think about it, it is this big commune of L.A. people who play music together and share everything, and it works out to everybody’s benefit.
I wanted to congratulate you on getting signed to Frenchkiss Records. How did that happen?
Andy Hamm: Yeah, thanks! It was important for us to find someone who’s on the same page, and we’d been talking to them for awhile. They saw us I think the first time we played in New York 6 to 8 months ago, and we just kept in touch. We met with a few others, but with Frenchkiss, they just thought what we thought. That’s what was most important to us when partnering up with a label—finding people we get along with and who let us do our thing.
Your album is due out in the U.S. in February. There’s been so much buzz about your live performances—what can we expect from the Local Natives studio album?
Andy Hamm: What I love about it is they’re two totally different things: if you listen to the album and like it, then hopefully you’ll love the live show. The feedback that we get is that the live show is more energetic and a bit more in-your-face. The album shows off the separate orchestrated parts, and the melodies come out a lot more. If people see us and expect to hear exactly what the record sounds like—you’re not going to get that, but you’ll definitely get a new experience.
I like the band name Local Natives, it’s subtly funny. Who came up with it?
Andy Hamm: I actually came up with it. We were in the middle of recording the album when we decided we needed a name, and we were going through lists and lists. But I liked Local Natives; it rolls off the tongue and it’s redundant in sort of a quirky way. We thought it was a good representation of us too because, as a group, everybody writes and everybody contributes—it’s very much a family effort within the band.
Is everyone actually from L.A.?
Andy Hamm: I grew up in Golden, Colorado. Ryan, Taylor, and Kelsey all grew up in Orange County, and Matt grew up in Chino Hills.
You guys have been living in a house together in Silverlake. Give me some secrets—who has the most annoying habit?
Andy Hamm: Ugh, there are a lot of annoying habits. Taylor’s probably the worst with the dishes and leaving lights on. Ryan’ll sleep all day long if you let him, so we’ll be in the van ready to go on tour or head to the practice studio and he’s always the last one out. We also own a rat named Burpy Christ that lives upstairs with Matt, I don’t even want to get into that.
Haha fair enough. So quick story: I was walking back from your show and I ran into my friend and I said “Oh man I just saw this band Local Natives, they blew me away!” and he gets this look on his face and says, “Yeah, I know them. My ex-girlfriend broke up with me to go out with one of them.” My question is, have you ever stolen anything from someone?
Andy Hamm: Wow! Well, I used to be quite a Dennis the Menace. I was troublesome but I always got away with it. I knew how to talk to people and be sweet. As far as stealing, I was pretty young, must’ve been 5th grade, but I had a friend who lived across the street from me (he’s one of my best friends to this day), and I remember I was at his house and I was looking for a toy or something in his room, and I saw a $5 bill just chilling there and something just clicked. I grabbed it and put it in my pocket and then I went in to him, and I could feel the guilt weighing in, so I just said “Uhh my mom’s calling me, I gotta go home.” I ran across the street and got home and 5 minutes later the doorbell rings and it’s him. He’s like, “Hey man, there was $5 in my room, did you take it?” And it’s that moment of truth, and the guilt’s weighing on me and I’m like, “Yeah… I got it right here,” and I gave it back. I remember I couldn’t hang out with him for what was probably only a week but what felt like a year.
So your bad behavior was pretty innocent at the heart of it.
Andy Hamm: I probably did a lot of stuff that I shouldn’t have done when I was little, but I was never that kid that would walk into a Radio Shack and grab a CD player. It was more like water guns and snowballs, stuff that a young boy living in Golden, Colorado would do.
I read on your blog about the fan in Vermont who hosted you in her home when you toured through there. Is that a typical Local Natives approach to touring, just get there and hope to find a place to sleep?
Andy Hamm: We do that in almost every town. It works. It’s a combination of us not having a lot of money and you know, our music just seems to attract very good-natured people. So we’ll usually just announce it in the set. We’ll say, “Hey, we have sleeping bags, we don’t smell that bad, so if you have room on your floor…” and I’d say 90% of the time there’s at least one person that says, “I’ve got a tiny one-bedroom but if you don’t mind sleeping on the tile floor in the kitchen, you can do it.” Luckily no one in the band is a prima donna, so it works.
So the other 10% of the time, do you end up sleeping in very sketchy places?
Andy Hamm: I’d be lying if I said it’s always been hunky dory. There was one time, I think it was our first time we had toured outside of the West Coast, and we stayed in Philadelphia. It was approaching last call, around 2:30 a.m., everybody had been drinking, and it was one of those nights where partying came above being responsible and finding a place to crash, so none of us had really met anybody with a place we could crash at, and there wasn’t a hotel in sight. We met this guy who was just sitting by himself at the bar, and he was like, “I loved you guys.” And he was older, like mid-40s I would guess—he just sort of had a weird vibe about him. But it was 3:00 in the morning, the bar was closing, and so we followed the guy to his apartment. Well first he took us to this bar that was still open, and he just sat there and drank I think three PBRs and two shots of whiskey, and we literally just sat there in the bar with him. Then he took us to his apartment, and he put on… this is really weird the more I think about it… he put on a murder mystery on a record player. It was like someone reading a murder mystery, a book on tape, but it was on record. And we all laid down and he just let it play. So the story’s playing while I’m trying to sleep, about this guy who’s murdering women. And then I woke up and the dude was just sitting by himself in the room we crashed in by an open window with a 6-pack of PBR and chain smoking cigarettes. This was at like 5:00 in the morning. So, I didn’t go to sleep past that—I don’t think any of us went to sleep. I remember leaning over and looking at Kelsey and his eye was open, giving me that look like, “Do we run now and save our lives or do we just pretend we’re asleep?”
Did you bail as soon as the sun came up?
Andy Hamm: Yeah I mean everything turned out fine. Who knows, that guy was very nice to us on the surface, maybe he was just a character, I don’t know. Hopefully he doesn’t read this and come seek us out or something…

LOCAL NATIVES WITH VOXHAUL BROADCAST AND CHIEF ON TUE., DEC. 22, AT THE ECHO, 1822 W. SUNSET BLVD, LOS ANGELES. 8:30PM / $5 ADVANCE / $10 AT DOOR / AND A CAN OF FOOD / ALL AGES. ATTHEECHO.COM LOCAL NATIVES’ GORILLA MANOR IS DUE OUT IN THE U.S. ON FRENCHKISS RECORDS FEBRUARY 16, 2010.

photos: danny o’malley

Tuesday night local indie folk guys Hi Ho Silver Oh threw an album release party at El Cid with their friends Shakey Graves and Superhumanoids and just some regular people who aren’t in bands. I was lucky enough to go along as part of that regular people group.

Shakey Graves, contrary to the plural nomenclature, is native-Texan Alejandro Rose-Garcia. He took stage as friends trickled in, but played with the heart of a guy who sold out the venue. After some manual difficulties involving an untunable guitar, Rose-Garcia showed us what he’s made of. This guy is straight from the past, complete with picturesque lyrics, a pure folksy voice dotted with oohs and hums, and some talented banjo picking. He was utterly charming in his quiet nervousness, and had the growing audience listening to every note from beginning to end.

Superhumanoids followed and once they got settled into their instruments on stage, shared their good spirits with us. Frontman Cameron tickled the audience with a few jokes and sang next to the adorable keyboardist/vocalist, Sarah. The moment I thought to myself, “They should give this girl more spotlight,” she took over with two ethereal numbers that—I’m just gonna put this out there—sounded like Bends-era Radiohead, with a female vocalist, played underwater. Yeah.

Then came the party hosts, Hi Ho Silver Oh. Listen, I try not to give much attention to the god-given physical appearance of a band because that’s just not fair to a band whose members, say, have really nice personalities. However, HHSO is one good-looking getup. They looked especially snazzy that night in their slacks and tucked in shirts. You could tell this was a special occasion for them, which, as a person who has worn a dress on her birthday for 28 years now, I can appreciate.

Hi Ho Silver Oh is primarily North Carolinian frontman Casey Trela’s project, but in LA has grown to include a Phil, a Jon, and a Wil. This show, though, was a celebration of all the people who have helped Trela create this album, Put It All In One Place And Burn It. That meant the four gents, plus a backup choir of four ladies, plus a violinist, plus (yay!) adorable Sarah from Superhumanoids on the 2nd drums. Seriously, a party.

“Communion” was easily the catchiest song of the evening (until the end… wait for it). With the added touch of violin played by Daniel Hart (The Physics of Meaning), this one made me draw a little heart next to the song title in my notes.

There were a few songs that started out with just Trela, the other 9 members staring dreamily at points on stage and occasionally mouthing along to a line. But just when you started to wonder “Wait, what are these other guys doing here?” you’d hear a tsk tsk tsk on the cymbal or a delicate whine from the violin, and you knew this was about to turn into something big. Then all the sounds would ball up tighter and tighter until they’d explode into a 10-piece sonic rush that made your hair blow back a little bit from your face.

Now about that end: after dismissing the rest of the band, Trela hopped down to the middle of the room and invited us all to an acoustic sing-along of “Perjury.” I don’t know how many people in the audience knew the song—some, I suppose—but an almost unrealistic number of people sang along. It was strange, and kind of thrilling. I guess we all just wanted to be part of the party.

—Amber Hollingsworth

Like a good lover, Raphael Saadiq understands the importance of anticipation. The first number, Marvin Gaye’s version of “The Star-Spangled Banner,” was played with the curtain still down, lights low. So when Saadiq came out singing “I Love That Girl” (I’m assuming he meant me), he was already pretty much in.

But being the gentleman he is, Saadiq wanted to make sure we were as comfortable as possible by giving us the Lucy Pearl hit, “Dance Tonight.” Within 10 minutes of curtain opening, the fans in the mezzanine had given up their seats to make better use of their booties. In addition to thoroughly tending to our aural senses, Saadiq made good visual use of his set—a sleek 6-piece band and ridiculously good-looking backup singers/dancers. He picked up his guitar for a couple songs, but set it aside to casually remove his jacket and loosen his tie. This man was good.

On the album The Way I See It, the song “Let’s Take a Walk” starts out: “This place is crowded / Don’t know about you / I need some sex / Some sex with you,” but in concert it starts: “This place is crowded…” pause, “This place is crowded…” another pause, “I said this place is crowded…” step off to the side, sly smile to the audience, EXTREME PAUSE [ohmygosh am I going to make it to the chorus??] “Don’t know about you, but IIIIII neeeeeeed soooooome sex!” Whew! Barely.

Aside from being utterly appealing, Saadiq was a very gracious performer. Each member of the band not only got a solo, but a personalized sign carried across the stage by an appreciative Saadiq. He gave the audience a fun mix of Tony! Toni! Toné! and Lucy Pearl hits, as well as old and new solo stuff. He thanked us for welcoming him home from his European tour, and changed into a classic black suit in case the red wasn’t doing it for us (oh Raphael, you’re so silly).

After an absolutely satisfying set, Saadiq left us waiting just long enough to make us start to wonder, then casually strolled back on stage looking smoother than ever in an undershirt and hat. During the third song of what was to be a nearly 30-minute encore, Saadiq mentioned that his idol was in the audience, and hoped he could join him. A minute later, Verdine White (bassist from Earth, Wind & Fire) was on stage dancing next to Saadiq, who was doing his best Verdine White impression. He finally closed out with “The Big Easy,” leaving us beaming, disheveled, and wondering when we could see him again.

—Amber Hollingsworth

White Rabbits need to get a new opening band, because Local Natives just showed them up. More on that later.

White Rabbits love percussion. In fact, if you know any of their songs, you probably know “Percussion Gun.” I won’t say that going to a White Rabbits concert is like getting shot in the face with that gun, but maybe bonked over the head with the handle of it, say.

This works both for and against them. I mean, who doesn’t love a loud, thumping beat that makes your body move in ways your brain couldn’t come up with? However, if your percussionist is more captivating than your lead singer, you may have a problem.

Stephen Patterson sits at his piano for 90% of the show, and while he sweats and strains his neck till veins pop out, there’s only so much energy you can exude while seated. Matthew Clark, on the other hand, jumps around in the back whacking his drums with tambourines and maracas—he’s exciting!

They played a few fun ones, like “Percussion Gun” and “Kid On My Shoulders,” and then a cover of “Instant Karma!” with Spoon’s Britt Daniel at the end, but the real showstopper took place before White Rabbits even took the stage—Local Natives.

Local Natives are a mustachioed crew from Silverlake who made me feel like I’d stumbled onto buried treasure. I guess other people have discovered this treasure too because they played at SXSW this year, so maybe an unburied treasure, but still—what a great surprise. Their stage presence just oozes band, which only enhances their sweet harmonies and tight instrumentals. Best track of the night was “Wide Eyes” from their new album (only available in the UK currently), Gorilla Manor. Be sure to watch these guys, and White Rabbits: be sure to watch your back.

—Amber Hollingsworth

The Hazards of Love is this theatrical narrative album that The Decemberists have been performing beginning to end with guest vocalists Becky Stark (Lavender Diamond) and Shara Worden (My Brightest Diamond). Each time she stepped out from behind her keyboard to sing, Worden seemed to take all the breath out of the room and use it as her own. The audience could not get enough of her.

The visuals were stunning—from exploding fungi to wolf constellations to arms flailing in slo-mo to drowned Greek ruins—there were very few moments where my eyes left the projection screen to notice the live band playing below it. This show was perfectly executed; a thrilling blend of art and sound.

And then Colin Meloy told us to come back after a brief break for some more music. “That’s nice of them,” I thought. “They must be exhausted!”

Nearly an hour later, The Decemberists’ second concert of the night was finally wrapping up. I’ll give them credit—they maintained an energy I wouldn’t think possible after what was essentially a live rock opera. A sweaty Meloy jumped off stage to flirt with his front-row fans and then led us in several extended sing-alongs, organist Jenny Conlee did some swing dancing with a lucky audience member… They rocked out. For the 1/3 of the crowd who were serious Decemberists fans, this must’ve been a dream come true. For the remaining Royce Hall performance junkies and visual arts students in attendance, this was a long, long night. Thankfully, Meloy asked Stark and Worden back out for a jaw-dropping cover of “Crazy On You,” leaving those of us who didn’t know what we were getting into with a nice little parting gift.

—Amber Hollingsworth

Guess what? You know at least 12 Moby songs. You may not think you do—maybe you never owned a Moby CD. But it doesn’t matter; if you’ve had a TV or a radio, or had a friend with a TV or a radio in the last decade, you know at least 12. Guaranteed.

Which is part of the reason why going to a Moby concert is a surprisingly enjoyable experience! I shouldn’t say surprisingly—I like Moby. Moby’s fine. Moby’s cool. But…Moby? Yes! The truth is it should’ve been the Moby & Inyang Bassey concert because good grief did that woman carry the show. A scrawny pale bald white dude only goes so far, but add a voluptuous soulful ole-timey-gospel singer with a voice that could knock down brick walls and you have got yourself a spine-tingling performance. And my spine was simply not expecting to be tingled.

When Bassey sang “Why Does My Heart Feel So Bad?” you just wanted to cry for the woman because you believed she had just suffered the most horrible tragedy in human history. But then she’d follow Moby on “We Are All Made Of Stars” and everything was OK again. And then Moby would turn the venue into a rave house—again, quite unexpected—and before you knew it you were having a blast. At a Moby concert.

Moby was also kind of funny. After asking us if we were having a good time, he explained that he really did want to make sure, since he’s pretty insecure. “When I’m dating someone I’ll often stop in the middle of sex and ask if they’re bored,” he elaborated. He also covered his own songs twice in the show: a slow, drumless version of “Southside” right after performing “Southside,” and a 1971 ballad version of “Natural Blues” following “Natural Blues.” Thankfully each was less than a minute long because that’s about how long that joke is funny.

On the way home from the concert, something unusual happened: I wished it was still the ’90s, where if I just waited long enough, Moby would come into my life in some form or another. This concert will get me through the 2000s, but I might actually need to see another one next decade. Seriously! Moby! Who would’ve thought?

—Amber Hollingsworth (words + photo)

Blitzen Trapper consists of five Oregon lumberjacks playing instruments behind frontman Eric Earley, the love child of Bob Dylan and Maroon 5′s Adam Levine. While not every member sported a beard or flannel shirt, if you average it out, each person had at least one of those things.

It wasn’t just the appearance of this husky crew that made them seem out of place in the chandeliered El Rey—the nature of their music simply belongs in the backwoods of Oregon. The state was mentioned as the inspiration behind several of their songs (“This one’s about a river in Oregon;” “We found this song in an Oregon forest;” “We were thinking about the roller skating rink back home”). They certainly managed to fill the venue with rousing renditions of songs like “Furr” and “Big Black Bird,” but almost every one would’ve sounded better around a campfire, tin cup of whiskey in hand.

I know they are an actual touring band, but it was if they had become Blitzen Trapped In A Cage To Perform For Spectators. They pulled it off, playing to our fancy city theatre spelled with “re” at the end, but you could see that their souls longed for the moonlit stage. At one point Earley exchanged his guitar for a keyboard and half the lumberjacks exited the stage for a couple classy numbers including “Not Your Lover,” and that was the closest the band came to fitting into their surroundings. But, like with animals at the zoo, you don’t really want them to fit in. You want them to stay themselves. You can appreciate them for entertaining us city folk while they’re here, but the real joy is imagining what it would be like to see them in the wild.

—Amber Hollingsworth