Tuesday is the new Friday. Don’t believe me? The lineup of LA Weekly’s 101 Festival at Universal Studio’s Gibson Amphitheater proves it. The bill boasted four diverse musical acts, all of whom got their starts from humble, do-it-yourself beginnings and have emerged as leaders in the indie rock world. Can you say as much for your Friday—let alone Tuesday—night?
If you haven’t been eagerly anticipating the release of Kid Sister’s debut album, Ultraviolet, you may want to come out from under that rock, because that’s exactly what the album does—it rocks. Melisa Young (AKA Kid Sister), girlfriend to famed DJ A-Trak, friend of Kanye West (who raps on the song “Pro Nails”) and sister of J2K of electronic act Flosstradamus, is the well-connected face and voice behind the record. But now, two years after work on Ultraviolet—and major hype about Kid Sister as a female MC—began, Young emerges a little older, a little wiser and ready for center stage. Watching her perform live at LA’s Echoplex on Saturday night, it’s clear that her success isn’t all connections; she brings plenty of talent and charisma to the table as well.
Is it time to hipster-ify your life? If so, the Silver Lake Art, Craft and Vintage Market is the place for you. Trust me, this is not your typical craft fair or flea market crowd, nor are the vendors selling Grandma’s knitting or haggling inexplicably over Aunt Irma’s prized ping pong ball collection. Held in the heart of Silver Lake, CA (near the plaza where indie rockers Silversun Pickups reportedly got their name), you’ll find everything you need to turn your apartment, your wardrobe, hell, even your boyfriend, into a funky, eclectic version of its formerly mainstream self. (No offense, honey.)
Don’t let the fact that the market takes place in a lackluster field belonging to the Micheltorena Street Elementary School deter you. Once inside the fence and wandering the amongst the tents, you’ll discover antique furniture, retro sunglasses, one-of-a-kind home decor, handmade jewelry by local artists, vintage clothing, long forgotten records and so much more. You may even find a used instrument to play in the rock band you’ll resolve to start, thanks to the inspiring merchandise (and backwards haircuts) that surround you.
Huddling behind the curtain Strim Vintage uses as a dressing room, for instance, trying on yet another expertly reconstructed dress by designer/seamstress Wendy Mirts, I find myself wondering why I would ever shop in a mall again. Mirts’ designs are incredibly flattering and also sustainable—she uses old blouses, skirts and dresses to create contemporary silhouettes while retaining most of the original shape and authenticity of each piece. The result is a look that’s got soul, without prices that require you to sell yours to the devil.
Meanwhile, Rico Adair works a few spots down at the Defile Clothing tent. Adair creates dresses from bits of recycled t-shirts, old fabric and donated clothing. A sign instructs shoppers to “build your own dress” and indicates three patterns to choose from as well as bins of pre-cut fabric for rummaging, mixing and matching. Once you’ve chosen your pieces, he’ll sew them together using contrasting stitching and hand-drawn silk-screening to complete the look.
“If anyone out there knows how to change a string, I’ll get down on my knees and show you what heaven looks like.”
I don’t know what’s more shocking—that Andy Falkous, lead singer and guitarist for Welsh rock band Future of the Left, is petitioning the audience for a guitar tech, or the image of him pleasuring the rather large, gruff-looking fan that hoists himself on stage to fix his instrument. But subtlety and predictability are not characteristics that Future of the Left care to cultivate, especially when performing at LA’s Spaceland to a packed crowd of eager, jostling fans. “I guess it’s something that I’ve broken three strings on the last three songs,” he continues, and the audience cheers, undoubtedly anticipating more frenzied steel snapping from Falkous.
What happens to all of that art and music that doesn’t make it to a big stage, or a big gallery, or garner a big paycheck? You know, the stuff that lives on your basement walls or in the pages of your journal, or in the musky air of your garage? Not surprisingly, the people at (aptly named) Magic Garage, an LA-based underground art/music collective, wondered the same thing, and four years ago, decided to provide an answer to that question. “The event started as a house party a couple people threw to show off their artwork and music, and it just kept getting bigger,” says Cat Erina, a Magic Garage organizer. “Our main goal is to give exposure to artists and musicians who haven’t yet found their way into larger public venues.”
At the risk of sounding like my mom, I’ve still gotta say it: They don’t make things like they used to. Case in point: The Dresden Room, a restaurant and cocktail bar nestled amongst more contemporary joints in LA’s hipster-hood, Los Feliz, has been open since the 1940s. When you enter the Dresden, you enter some rare alternate universe where Cheers, Vegas and Sinatra all collide to form a swanky yet comfortable, unique and authentic experience. Walking in to the warmly-lit lounge on a Tuesday evening, you’d think it was a Friday or Saturday judging by the comfortably packed-in crowd, which offers a complete cast of characters—Hollywood executive types rub elbows with younger, fedora-clad twenty-somethings. There are cozy tables sprinkled throughout the room, 50s and 60s-inspired art lining the walls (by Jamie Oliff), and frosted art deco glass behind the bar. The friendly vest and bow tie-adorned bartenders call me “honey” and whip me up a house libation, pink frothy deliciousness poured into an elegant chilled martini glass.
It’s time to face facts: clowns are creepy. Of this we are all quite aware, I’m sure. There is something inherently shudder-inducing about the white face, the blood-red smile, the silent, piercing stare. Luckily, some of my LA brethren felt the same way, but instead of banning clowns at birthday parties and slamming the door in the face of little clown children on Halloween, they decided to embrace the sinister side of all things circus. I’m talking, of course, about Cirque Berzerk, LA’s only resident circus, a performance act that’s making creepy cool with seven performances a week through July 26th (August 9th – see comments – DL) at LA’s state historic park. Described as a “circus on acid,” this troupe has found a way to extract the most disturbing—and the most titillating—aspects of typical carnival culture and deliver them to the curious and salivating masses. And despite my (totally rational, thank you very much) aversion to clowns, I found myself among them on opening night. It didn’t hurt that as part of the experience, we were encouraged to get there early, cavort with the carney-couture-clad crew, peruse the wares, and belly up to the outdoor bar. Between breathtaking views of downtown at sunset, winning a few games on the antique pin ball machines and some, er, social lubrication with friendly face-painted folk, I found myself in the mood to take on anything I’d find inside the 1700-person big top tent.
Standing in a small hallway surrounded by the members of Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, I feel for a moment like we’re all skipping down the yellow brick road together (except instead of poppies, we’re in a field of something a little, shall we say, greener). They’re all just so damn happy.
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If your psycho girlfriend started a clothing line, what would it look like?
Wait, on second thought, don’t bother asking her—since there’s no way it could be nearly as cool as Vanessa Bonet and Kasey McMahon’s line, you’d probably just end up with a keyed car if you did. Bonet and McMahon have taken fashion to new heights (or new levels of mental instability, depending on how you look at it) with their LA-based “wearable art” design collaboration Psycho Girlfriend, which they founded in 2004.
Robots and anime go hand in hand like wasabi and ginger. So when I saw that the Japanese American Cultural and Community Center was putting on something called “A Robot Trifecta,” I knew I had to be there. It was the JACCCs first attempt at a free outdoor summer event, with the idea being to “bring the community together, get them out to do something different,” according to the sushi chef who hand crafted a delectable spicy tuna roll just for me. The screening took place in an outdoor courtyard in LA’s Little Tokyo. Surrounded by restaurant patios, steaming noodle bowls and boba tea, we sipped Japanese beer and took a seat on the steps to be entertained by three classic robot-based anime series—Astro Boy, Voltron and Gigantor. A DJ spinning ambient electronic tunes set the mood as the sun set and people settled in to their places with chairs, blankets and pillows brought from home.
