You might as well have spritzed me with the latest fragrance because every jiggling skanky ho trying to get in to the show made my eyes tear with their excess of fake perfume. I was really crying that I couldn’t dance to a live version of your first album with a bunch of nerds.

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Maybe it’s that Klaxons have moved on from visual gimmicks. They no longer present themselves as something that happens when you film a DJ Jazzy Jeff and Will Smith 1991 music video in Joshua Tree after eating a handful of shrooms. Instead, their outfits and backdrop reflected a new minimalist direction.

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After at least an hour of giggling breasts and gyrating American booties, the petite blonde bombshell from off-shore bounced onto stage full of energy. Giggle and gyrate she did too, but this lady was not just a sight—she was also a sound.

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So frontman Julian Casablancas, formerly of Strokes fame, has headed out on his own solo career launching a full tour and EP. He’s worked with the Lonely Island crew (cred where cred is due, proper.) and something about Santogold, Pharrel, and him doing a commercial? But for Chuck Taylors, which we all know are pretty much the best shoe to wear like, ever, and it’s actually a pretty good jam! So, the props, they are being built. Or whatever you do with props (don’t drop them?).

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I was pleased to see dancing, singing, grinning fans. I grinned too as I looked around at fans voraciously dancing to the beats and melodies Metric spilled into their ears. The venue stepped it up and turned on the rock amps for this band – the fans stepped it up to rock amp time – glitter, ‘nuff said – we’ve passed the counting portion of vodka ingestion – the music sounded perfect – the band played with each musician’s “heart beating like a hammer.” A symphony of hearts. Thank you Metric. Incidentally, I left the venue with no socks on.

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photography by linda janota

Metric performed on June 8 at the Wiltern.

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It may sound odd describing an artist as “full of love”—especially when one of her most famous songs is entitled “Fuck the Pain Away”—but Peaches was (and remains) just that. She entered the stage in an abstract peach outfit composed of a pinky-orange balloon shirt, hood, a glittering snakeskin mask and tights, and as she crossed the stage with her arms moving back and forth, she resembled a lively beating heart.

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photography by linda janota

Peaches performed at The Henry Fonda Theatre on Saturday June 6 and Sunday June 7. Linda Janota photographed their Sunday show.

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Dear Rock Concert Gods,

I’ve put off writing this letter to you due to my admiration, love, and passion for good music. But it’s time. Please, dear gods that rule our eyes and ears—our hearts and our dancing feet—can you please put a cap on how many a-holes are allowed per venue per show? I’ve been to so many shows lately where the bands rock it to the max while the audience stands staring like a vacuous black hole of suckage. If you plan to grow roots in the middle of the dance floor only so that you can stare at the band with an “I just pooped my pants” expression, please, leave.

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Was 50 Cent at the Henry Fonda on Sunday, April 26? No, but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t sexual innuendo-laced lyrics on top of ass-bouncing beats floating through the steamy air as young, hot, bodies grinded on each other.

Shrouded in a light show back-lit by videos screening behind them, the Faint delivered. After rushing through a maze of L.A. traffic to get to the early concert (the Faint went on at 8:15), I felt a little crabby, pushing through the crowd to get up close. But, the moment “Take Me To The Hospital” blasted through the speakers—crabby no more—my heart started pumping and my feet started moving.

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