This is darkly sensual stuff made by and for nighttime people rampant midnight-to-six in ill-lit warehouses as spiritually far from Hollywood as Podunk or Parnassus; a hassle-diminished urban paradise best approached with GPS and pepper spray. These five bleak and sexy tracks compress L.A.’s node of this international milieu into a tidy 90-megabyte romp, good for your next spasm of non-dancefloor action-adventure and as fine an occasion for civic pride as Ripley’s Museum, the next Randy Newman album or the grave of Sam Yorty.
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