If you’re not Australian, you probably haven’t heard of Megan Washington, the superstar singer-songwriter from Brisbane. Well, listen up, because your life will be greatly enhanced if you do. Especially lucky are those who get to see her live (she’s currently touring with Kaki King). Megan Washington has a story for every song, and she
Radio City Music Hall is really a breathtaking venue. Not one that is necessarily recommended for dirty rock shows, but the interior, the bandshell, the incredibly spacious bathrooms that are instead referred to as “lounges” are quite stunning. However, this night was not about admiring architecture. On to the bands! Carrie Brownstein, Mary Timony, Rebecca
On Saturday the 22nd, I headed on out to the Troubadour for another typical night of Los Angeles’ rocking live music scene, and, naturally, I was not disappointed. I don’t mean to make all you non-Angelenos jealous, but you should be totally jealous. It took me a while to understand the hype behind this city,
I didn’t know too much about Paschal Coeur before I saw them play at The Woods last night. I knew their genre classification was all over the map, from country to electronic to pop. I knew that last night was the last show they would play before disbanding and becoming the Don’t Say Nos (new
Are you tired of the Olympics? Can you, like me, not find it within yourself to muster up any amount of enthusiasm for the Olympics?* Both great reasons to get out of your mom/coworker/neighbor’s child’s soccer coach’s house tomorrow and actually go see something worth watching, like live music in Los Angeles. How about that?
I didn’t have a chance to see Isobel Campbell, which I’m super bummed about, but I did manage to catch this typo on the official ASCAP flyers. How rude! In other news, Richard Marx, you guys. Richard Marx! Someone actually invited him to play at the festival’s music cafe! And I went! Less because I
They had spoken of this band a few times, and I had managed to miss attending each show. I didn’t know anything about the band, and didn’t know what to expect that night – but halfway through the second song, my date and I turned to each other, stiff like two hot dogs and all
Last night, at the urging of Eliza, I made it to a residency show of The Happy Hollows at Spaceland, and I must say, they were a titillating onslaught of she-rock. Not that their rock is she-centric, but rather, that the driving force of the rock-ness is a she, and she plays a mean mean
It is hard for me to believe that they have been sex monsters and the scourge of parents, or that anyone ever thought their music was the devil’s music. Maybe it was the devil’s grandpa’s music. The distance and height we were looking at them, combined with the impression I had from the media about
He didn’t have a band surrounding him, but John Maxfield rocked a small Whiskey crowd with acoustic guitar, keyboard and laptop providing the odd drum track Monday night. Moving between instruments, Maxfield put on a show perhaps better suited to a Silverlake venue, a raucous solo performance of hooky ballads from his latest record. Maybe