Uh, yea, like any good blogger - I went to see the Arcade Fire. They played 3 sold out shows at the Troubador in West Hollywood, and I went to the earlier one Sunday night. You've heard enough about them and I certainly don't want to contribute to the coming backlash, but it was pretty incredible. They made a believer out of me. They performed a track they claimed "is floating around out there on a scratchy demo" called "Cars and Telephones" and I really need to own it... if anyone's got a copy they can email me or something.
(One of my best friends called me after giving the A.F. CD a few spins and said: "These guys fly their influences like a freak flag and are working the nerd angle to get more attention. I'm not into it." Let the backlash begin! )
Since we got out of the show at 9pm, we wandered out to meet some friends for a moment down the street. West Hollywood was very jumpin', and the fact that a balmy 85 degree day had turned into an only slightly less balmy and crystal clear night made the evening out even nicer. On our way to the restaurant, we ran into most of the kids in the Arcade Fire, coming back from the grocery store with snacks and sodas and returning to the Troub for show number 2. We yelled "Great show!" at each pair as they passed, and generally received embarrassed giggles and "Thanks!" in reply.
After a quick stop to visit with friends, we were off to Hollywood proper and the fabulous Burgundy Room. I was supposed to meet the guy who owns the bar, a great friend, but he hadn't arrived. Luckily for me, one of his brothers - who owns the Hotel Cafe (a cafe and live music space) next door - walked in. "Hey, go to Hotel. Gomez is doing a surprise show." We walked in to see various members of the band doing solo bits, goofing around, and then playing altogether for a group of about 75 people. (For some perspective, the next two nights they played at a sold out House of Blues, then head up to SF for three sold out shows at the Fillmore. Yipes!) Turns out they were doing an impromptu tsunami benefit.
The next move was up the street to grab a slice of pizza before heading back to the bar. By then, my friend was driving up in his pimpin' 1962 Buick Riveria, and let us know about a theme party happening that night that we should stop by. I am not one to pass up a theme party, especially if I already happen to be slightly dressed for it. But before that, a drink. My friend and I made a pit stop in the Burgundy until we were approached by two very sweet and well meaning death metal cholo dudes. My friend is Argentinean, and I'm Spanish, but other than that, I'm not sure what made us appealing to the death metal cholo dudes. They talked our ears off for a good twenty minutes and then we were able to politely excuse ourselves and head back out into the Hollywood night.
Next was Apollo Star's "Pimps and Ho's" party. Now I was wearing a Catholic school girl thing, and my friend was more 70's drug cowboy, but we figured they'd let us slide. And they did. Apollo is a scene fixture: DJs in the right clubs, owns a vintage and couture boutique, window dresses at hipster shops, paints, films, photographs... He's that guy. The wanna-be Andy Warhol around town. He's really quite a kick.
My friend and I stood under the crescent moon (which had a coke spoon curled up to its nose) and watched the crowd a bit. She said to me, "Don't you love it when you come to a party and everyone's already fucked up? Then you can just watch." And that's what we did. It was certainly fun to watch.
We didn't last long there - we didn't feel "ho"ey enough. Besides, we'd seen two rock shows, had some booze and also some effervescent chatter with death metal guys. We were done for the night. Enough of Hollywood! Time for bed. Till next time!
