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Music & art collective Heard of Elephants’ February residency at Synchronicity Space was a multimedia explosion of art, photo, video, experimental bands, some comedy, and free drinks.

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I know alot of people have been tossing around the word “psychedelic” in descriptions of these dudes—I mean, I just did—but they don’t have any of the cloying spaciness. They’re of a more dusty and adventurous stance. At the end, Chris Frias’ guitar strap comes undone and he’s left smiling, singing and holding his guitar like a rubber chicken. If this was an acid trip, it’d be one with convulsing laughter, climbing trees and rolling on blankets, thinking you’re a dog.

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Art collective Heard of Elephants are doing a Synchronicity Space residency in February with a bunch of other bands. Schedule below: Synchronicity Space 4306 Melrose Ave Los Angeles, CA 90029 Feb 6: Opening Night! Our two week residency begins tonight! Featuring artwork from Liza Epps, Lynde Low, Adam Stamp, Erina Digby, Peter Van Dyke, Billy [...]

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Here’s something bittersweet to start off the week and get you going towards re-evaluating your life before the new year. Random Patterns created a soundtrack for this claymation video by Elena Megalos titled “Canvas.” It’s about love and art and finding yourself. Are you the bunny or the duck?

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photography by Ward Robinson

Random Patterns performing at The Echo on October 28, 2009.

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The Happy Hollows fills my hollow with happiness.—Do you really think of your body as being solid? Maybe this comes from playing with dolls, but it’s often very strange to really believe there are things inside me. Not to mention worms and spiders. Anyway…

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Download: Random Patterns “Corruption In The Licorice Den” [Audio clip: view full post to listen] (from Creatures of Teeth available now from Random Patterns, who play Spaceland tonight with Happy Hollows)

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The Patterns banged loudly against each other with staccato, tinny thuds. Some issued viscous sighs as they sucked smaller pieces through themselves. Others, wedged against a million frenetic polygons, belched victorious brass shouts as they pushed their way back into the whirlwind. The boy was overcome. The Random Patterns would slow their circuit periodically, and he would be deceived into thinking the crush of color and sound was over, but then the pounding, melodious, buzzing, sizzling tornado would begin anew.

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Straight out of Highland Park and reppin’ Heard of Elephants Collective, Random Patterns takes to music like the first word in their name takes to the second: soaked in paradox. The whole thing speaks of late-night collisions between the Butthole Surfers and the Doors at a funk club with pink lighting.

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