Vice started the show, despite an initial audience of four, with a totally sincere “What’s Up L.A.!?!” before launching into a hyperactive fit that would last for the rest of the set. He exploded into religious fervor as the crowd grew, fighting against our apathy for the first few songs (”North Hampton was louder. Do you know where that is?”) but eventually pulling everyone onto his wavelength, commanding us to come closer, sit down, stand up, and yelp.

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It must have been absolutely strange, thirty years after releasing a mostly-ignored record on Rough Trade, to find themselves playing a packed basement in Los Angeles for an audience made up mostly of people who weren’t even around then. But here they were, with personalities beaming! Ana carried herself like a wisened journeywoman, arching over her guitar and occasionally staring coldly into the crowd, her wrinkled face looking like it came off the cover of a Johnny Cash record. Gina, on the other hand, was all ebullient joy as she buzzed through not only the set but between-song banter about her Ebay obsession and other cute idosyncracies.

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manjari doxey

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