Tearist’s Yasmine Kittles appeared in the crowd like a victim just escaped from a serial killer’s dungeon. She jumped in the pool then joined her bandmate William Stangeland Menchaca in a little grassy enclosure and had flashbacks.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=dnIpWp3zbtI

Julia Holter looked like a lady, sang pretty, and made people happy with this “Maria” song she imposed upon the mouth of some woman projected on the wall.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sv5PKs8ChFI

www.youtube.com/watch?v=qK9C43SqrUg

www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tli3lXmlT4A

—Daiana Feuer

THE SERIES is a monthly theatrical experiment slash party on the Standard, Downtown LA’s rooftop. Producer Nicole Disson fuses her talents as mover and shaker, putting on a social event and dancing in it. We’ll call it a dance because overall, during the last one, movement played a part in every stop at this party theater. In a succession of follow-the-leader, girls wearing balloon-legged designer sack outfits led the audience to different locations on the roof; each spot a new scene. The show began as Disson stared at a guy by the bar. They started moving towards each other.  After a long eye courtship, they finally hugged then something went sour and she ran off. Rather than chase after, he ordered a drink, typical guy move. The audience was “cast” as party voyeurs, actually stalking the performers by following them from place to place. It began with that discreet barside scene and progressed to actions under spotlight in which typical L.A. poolside bar party behavior got atypical performative twists. A couple sits at a table, a group tromps through the bushes and pulls imaginary strings from their mouths, another group cuts their way through a building made of paper—with coordinated dance moves throughout and all of them dressed in designs by Diaz of Clothesline.

Jasmine Albuquerque, Diaz, Isabelle Albuquerque by Rick Mendoza

The performers included Disson, Hecuba’s Isabelle Albuquerque, and multiple pieces by her choreographer-dancer sister, Jasmine, guest director Mecca Vazie Andrews, and Ali Helnwein and the Traction Avenue Chamber Orchestra, among others. The girl in 1980s leotard with sunglasses, on a pedestal, posing under her own handheld fluorescent light, while Anna Oxygen and Oliwa jumped on the couches in post-aerobic electro triumph, was definitely one of the dancers in the musical New. last Spring. All the pieces in one way or another referenced buildings, structures, and being where we were: The Standard, Downtown LA, a place for abstract behavior by the city’s stylishly experimental.

—Daiana Feuer

Hear ye, hear ye, Dublab brings back some “Good Times” from Silent Movie Theater. Almost two years ago, Dublab screened videos from its VisionVersion series on a warm summer night—the series in which they take awesome bands to sweet spots around town and tape them singing their song. That night capped with Hecuba performing live to capture its “Good Times.” We were there, too, and it makes us nostalgic sort of like that LCD Soundsystem song but with different words—”I was there when people threw streamers at Hecuba and Iz still had hair…”—in our own version of history as its being written.

The Hecuba VisionVersion was directed by Trevin Matcek and Saul Levitz. Trevin also directed the Excepter and Baby Dee VisionVersions, and Saul directed VisionVersions for Peter Walker and Health. All of which we remember fondly as strangeness captured by unique strangers.

The song “Good Times” made its way onto Hecuba’s Paradise last year. “Good Times” falls into a deep mantra in which “vibes” and “times” become interchangeable over a steamy repetitive beat. The song’s about music, a force which comforts and releases us when we crawl into its dark void and bounce our bodies around inside. What else is cool about this jam? It picks up the “Good Times” torch ignited by Chic in the ’70s to describe the need and effect of letting loose to the groove—but in Hecuba’s deadpan delivery of joyful revelry.

The idea is basic and essential. Why do I go to the club? What do the club do for me? I am having a good time now. I need to have a good time. What does time mean to you people?! And just like Plato wondered—what is good?—we can ponder philosophy in da club. Maybe moving our hips gets the brain juices flowin’.

Here’s Chic:

It just so happens Hecuba recently emerged from a three month seclusion in Malibu, writing and recording new songs for their second album to be. They’ve got new hairdos, but we’ll probably wear the same clothes we wore two years ago next time we see them.

—Daiana Feuer

Download: Butchy Fuego’s ‘Sabor Tropical’ Mixtape (Exclusive!)

We asked producer and Pit Er Pat drummer Butchy Fuego to make us a mix to go with his interview, and he gave us this wild beast!

Greetings friends of L.A. RECORD! This is Butchy Fuego, a recent transplant to L.A. I cooked up this mix special for you! A little more than half the songs are either brand new beats that I made just for this mix or remixes I’ve done of friends’ work. The rest is just stuff I’ve been digging since I moved here this summer. There’s a few tunes that are colaborations with or tracks of NGUZUNGUZU, 2 of the house DJs at Wildness—the raddest LBGT weekly party in L.A. Hope you enjoy…
—Butchy Fuego

(Butchy Fuego is a drummer, multi-instrumentalist, beatmaker, recording engineer/producer, and visual artist living in Los Angeles, CA. He is a founding member of the band Pit Er Pat, who he still plays with. Lately he has also been performing with the Boredoms, Matteah Baim, Lucky Dragons, NGUZUNGUZU, and various other incarnations and one-off improvisation performances. Recent production credits include Pit Er Pat, The Red Krayola, Hecuba, These Are Powers, Rainbow Arabia, a solo record and many others.)

Twin kitties received instruction from Hope on capturing Isabelle Albuquerque’s dance moves and added their own feline twist. Perhaps Albuquerque will adopt the “lick your nose” step.  This isn’t just a coupla cats dancing. Details pin a story-line in abstraction—which suits Hecuba reality fine—a phone call, an engagement ring, a dangling sock. I want to dangle my sock like that.

On this night, Hecuba summoned to Hotel Cafe with tales about food and babes in Estonia, and a super intriguing music video by El Perro Del Mar starring two overly-tan strong men who call themselves The Golden Power. The men lift each other like magnets, often moving very slowly, trailing sparkles. The song, “Change Of Heart,” showcases El Perro Del Mar’s best features: relaxed, classy, romantic vocals and a stylish moonlit mood. Despite the title, all the songs Sarah Assbring wrote for album Love Is Not Pop sound a lot like “love pop.” Living for love, sacrificing for love, love for breakfast, love for dinner, lovey love love—which she explains on her website:

I knew from the beginning I was going to do an album of love songs but as I was far from in an amorous state of mind at the time I realized, I couldn’t write anything that would be pretending I still believed in love. I wanted to though. Desperately. And upon reading the lyrics to “Heavenly Arms” I realized he’d find the way to express this dark and desperate fight for love to survive against all odds. Although time and space had come between it – you keep fighting for it until the end.

Overall slower and less dancey than fellow Swede Lykke Li’s music (they have a split 7 inch**), but the two share temperament and a keen fashion sense. I was surprised and delighted when Lykke Li emerged at Hotel Cafe and sang back-up on “Change Of Heart.” She sang high and snapped her fingers. I wished for a latte in a cool ceramic cup, imagining the Cafe’s brick walls became side streets.

Opener Hecuba’s performance peaked on the red-curtained stage several times. Isabelle Albuquerque was asked to please stop climbing the house piano. A man ate a piece of cake and the lanterns shivered above. I dug a new song about modern, upbeat, love (“You keep me modern, You keep my upbeat…” that crescendos maniacally into laughter, and a few interludes—one about touching and feeling, “I just want you so bad…”

It was a evening full of love songs.

—Daiana Feuer
**The split 7 inch contains El Perro Del Mar covering Isley Brothers/Aaliyah’s “At Your Best (You Are Love)” and Lykke Li’s version of Wendy René’s “After Laughter.”

This video is one of the coolest things ever. EVER! Don’t disagree. Disregard your preconceptions about men with spray tans and no body hair, and allow yourself to marvel at the wonders of the human form’s power without prejudice. Hecuba sent us the above video for El Perro Del Mar’s song “Change Of Heart.” They’re playing a show together at Hotel Cafe. I don’t think the Hungarian body-builders will be there, but that’s ok.

Hecuba just returned from Europe. Peep them on Estonian TV:

Alex Ebert + Har Mar Superstar

Pizza!, the latest addition to Manimal Vinyl’s roster, opened festivities with upbeat songs about skulls and the recession. “Did that boy just say the N-word?!” exclaimed a leather vested motorcycle man.

Pizza!

Weave’s outfits—surfer dudes on Venus, splattered with braille. The band beamed energy from their instruments that formed a constellation of Siouxie Sioux and tropical animals above people’s heads. A nod goes to Ivory’s commitment to a high bikini line.

Weave

Corridor, aka Michael Quinn, comes on epic—like leaping from a building but not hitting the ground. His music belongs to the ethereal realization you won’t crash. The wind whipped his hair wildly as he drummed on his cello. He shares alternacoustic mystique with Kurt Vile, except Quinn’s more metal. Bill & Ted might arrive and whisk him away to the future.

Corridor

Tiffany Preston beats the cowbell like it’s a drum pad and vice versa. As the biting wind trapped Rainbow Arabia‘s notes in the air for a second, it became appealing to sew a thread passing back and forth between cowbell, pad, Danny’s keys, congas, and back to guitar. The wind disentangled Tiffany’s voice from the mic effects—noticing her natural sound’s ornaments.

Rainbow Arabia

Prolonged exposure to We Are The World nears brain-washing. People think Ed Sharpe has a cultish power? I’m more likely to join We Are The World—their costumes as monk habits, and prayer as a Ryan Heffington dance routine. Beneath the sensory aerobics, I noticed, they all wear different shoes.

We Are The World

Respite from the World’s immaculate vision was found inside Pappy & Harriet’s, hopping and twisting around a shiny ghettoblaster’s pixie stick, midi karaoke beats. Matt Jones has Sonny Bono hair. His Jonesin’ partner, Jen Jones, crosses Debbie Harry and Tifffany—the latter accentuated by shoulder pads. The couple resides in San Francisco, exchanging romantic one-liners with distortion set on 11.

Jonesin’

New band members appear with Fool’s Gold all the time. But here’s hoping a rosy-cheeked preteen playing percussion tonight makes the permanent roster. Six chickens, seventeen marbles, and two helicopters also squeezed in on stage. The intro to “Suprise Hotel” lasted for miles—teasing that tropical guitar line between Lewis Pesacov and Matt Popieluch until the audience fully surrendered—before Luke Top uttered the song’s first word.

Fool’s Gold (*see the kid in the back right!)

With instruments and band members protruding in all directions, Ed Sharpe & Magnetic Zeros swooned on stage like an amoeba. The audience was sucked in. Alex Ebert suggested a volunteer get even closer and suck his ________. I imagined Ebert pulling a bathplug out of his pants and the whole audience slipping into a glowing light between his legs.

Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros

A fifteen-minute jam during Amanda Jo Williams’ last song put the country butter in psychedelic. Having a full band lay into her songs slowed things down so the rhythms could crack their joints. Amanda’s kooky voice usually whisks the audience away on horse rides after bunnies, but tonight the spread-out sound kept the audience stomping within these four walls.

Amanda Jo Williams

When both members of Hecuba collapsed on the floor, their heads touched the way Lady And The Tramp share a noodle. Fog gathered. Keeping a hand playing the keyboard, Jon Beasley rubbed his face on Isabelle Albuquerque’s cheek while she hunched over her knees. The audience huddled around as its ship reached the heart of outer space.

Hecuba

Laco$te’s X rolled around, climbed tables, and bent backwards during a short, electric set—so high charged it blew some fuses, including the band members’. Most people believed the sound splitting was a deliberate trippy effect. Laco$te could’ve mimed their remaining songs and kept the audience bobbing along.

Laco$te

Cold did not care much that the sun wanted to shine on Sunday. Voice On Tape’s echoing moans and romantic guitar strumming made me want scotch and a gambler’s ring.

Voice On Tape

He’s My Brother She’s My Sister performed when the air was white. You could barely see them when looking at the musicians straight on. This band’s day-after-glamorous-debauchery plus a banjo felt so right—considering the far-out night many people were still living. The audience slapped its knee and sloppily clapped along to what might have been Manimal’s theme song.

He’s My Brother She’s My Sister

Shivering, lacking vitamins and sleep, the audience sat cross-legged on Pappy’s dancefloor during Ariana Delawari. Gentle detailed guitar was punctuated when she struck hard chords or sincere moments—her eyebrows pleated like a sea for rain. Lulled, you forget she might be singing about politics and terrorism.

Adriana Delawari

Voices Voices was the last thing I could see before the boogie-man chased me home. For a finale to the melting rainbow they stirred until dissolved, the girls should have ridden off on motorcycles across the darkening desert—trenchcoats flapping behind them.

Voices Voices

Lips chapped the minute they tasted the air at Pappy & Harriet’s—those allergic to Chapstick have since cracked and ripped every time a smile recollects the Manimal Fest journey.

[View with PicLens]

—Daiana Feuer (words and photo)