There were a few songs that started out with just Trela, the other 9 members staring dreamily at points on stage and occasionally mouthing along to a line. But just when you started to wonder “Wait, what are these other guys doing here?” you’d hear a tsk tsk tsk on the cymbal or a delicate whine from the violin, and you knew this was about to turn into something big. Then all the sounds would ball up tighter and tighter until they’d explode into a 10-piece sonic rush that made your hair blow back a little bit from your face.

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It was so strange to see Julian in Silverlake. To me, the Strokes were better suited as a small-venue band because when they played in large arenas, the group looked like little action figures on a stage. This we could chalk up to fame and stardom. But at Spaceland, we could see the man face to face. In the hallway, after informing the singer I was writing a review of the show, he admitted he’d be a little reluctant to read it in a few days due to what seemed to be a fear of bad press.

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