So for starters I think it’s bullshit that the cheap-ass (ed. note: but decent) Sushi spot in Westwood closed down without sending me as much as a twitter about it. Wasted my damn gas, and got me all excited. Brought my own fuckin’ soy sauce, brought the Budaphest, ended up eating a fuckin’ cheeseburger. You really Pearl Harbored me on that one sushi place.
I only wanted to eat your stupid fish on account I had a concert to check out over at the Central SAPC, and that rendered your restaurant not too far out of the way for pedestrian sushi. You dropped the fuckin’ ball. Guess who ain’t drop the fuckin’ ball? The Muddy Reds ain’t drop the mother fuckin’ ball!
Hot damn I was glad I left the couch last night! My timing was a bit off and I made it in for shall we say a bit too much of the Dandelo set (ed. note: what the fuck is a Dandelo?) (ed. note: what the fuck is a Muddy Red?) (ed. note: ew, dude, sick gross). This Dandelo outfit was like, a type a band that you’d want to play your rager, just because they ain’t have shit else to do that weekend. I could walk through a party and like knock over shit in somebody’s house to Dandelo. I could pick a booger and wipe it on your mother’s wall because I was stumbling around and Dandelo was playing in the living room. I don’t think I could really deal with a full Dandelo show in the Intimate Central setting, screaming not loud enough for me to hear over the rest of their noise, that type a situation.
At some point in this set some little Wario looking dude stood like pretty much all up in my business and filmed like a 20 minute video on his phone. Now, question a) why did I stand there for 20 minutes? Answer a) because I kept thinking they can’t possibly have another song. Question b) What do mother-fuckers do with a 20 minute long video that they take at a concert? Or like a 20 minute video that they shoot at a basketball game? Answer b) Stupid question dumbass, leave people and their videos alone (ed. note: phone vids = spank bank).
Alright, nuff of that, let’s get to the meat of the issue, the reason I was there, which was of course to see the Muddy Reds, because they play better music than my roommate fartin’ on the couch, and a lot of other bands too (ed. note: there’s probably gonna be a band named “My Roommate Fartin’ on the Couch within a day of this post).
So first off, the boys got a new drummer. The old dude got the brain damage from that beer can that guitarist Nick put to his cranium in the Jam Van (ed note: shit gets wild). It wasn’t the good kind of brain damage either, so he was out, and that left the band looking for a new man on the sticks and kicks. They seem to have found him, his name is Pete (ed. note: he has a last name, I forget it). At some point during the show they asked what his nickname should be, Pistol Pete, or some other type of Pete. Nah, fuck that, it’s Patchouli Pete, and yes, that legitimizes him. I’ll sign off my approval on this drummer (ed. note: oh it matters). For a first show, he ripped shit, he seemed maybe a little bit looser than their last drummer, which was cool.
The band was as usual, the best rock’and’roll going on in the Los Angeles music club scene for the evening, no doubt in my mind. They are so damn good, that it is baffling to me that I was able to relax on a couch in the back of the venue with my feet up and still see the band(ed. note: that’s my feets posted up in that pic above, also, one of the scarce few ones that was running around the venue, along with the dude who prolly ain’t hittin’ it right beside her, and then of course, Johnny Elkins grizzled mug, up in the corner if you squint). I counted 17 mother fuckers in that show! How many of y’all got hit with Tecate cans in the head? Cause can’t be that all of y’all have brain damage! I mean, 17? I get it, it’s Wednesday night, it’s the Westside of LA, blah, blah, blah, because guess what? I know you fools are somewhere doing something! I know you are probably at some wank bar listening to Journey or Ace of Bass, or fuckin, LA Fonts, ya’ assfarts.
Anyhow, the reds killed it, because dudes have talent and good, unique songs. I guess they only did like 5 or 6 songs, probably, at least I hope, because the new drummer ain’t know that many others. The ones my hazy mind remembers are Ashes, Automatic Springtime (ed. note: which was fuckin’ outrageously excellent), “Waiting on Nicky,” “Wesley” and “Plan B (Send for Help).” The highlight of the night was when Johnny led into “Wesley” with a killer rendition of “Don’t Let Me Down” by the Beatles, just the chorus part, once around. It was brilliant, because the lyrics of “Wesley” at the end say something along the lines of “don’t let me down,” but in a different way, and it was just fuckin’ good.
I got to catch up with the band for a bit, and I can report that they are still dirt-bags of the highest quality (ed. note: that good dirt). Nick caught a laser to the retina from one of the Central’s absurdly cool laser light thingies (ed. note: PH, I want one). That’s ok though, because it seems that he has no need for two eyes, at least for this album go’round, because he knew all the lyrics to “Plan B” without having to write any of them on the back of a nekked mannequin. Not that he ever did that, on video, or at all, in life. But hey, that’s just rock’n’roll…
As for The Wolf on bass, well he was howling last night, having his moment towards the end, right when shit was getting rowdy. He jumped upstage, and swung his bass dangerously close to Johnny’s head. However, dude ducked it as if they’d choreographed the move, or took the same pills, same shit.
That’s because the Reds have got a ‘shit don’t matter unless it matter’s’ type vibe, and it’s infectious through their music. Several times during the set I found myself smiling for no apparent reason other than I just wanted to smile. That was the good tunes doin’ work. Their stage presence is on par for an act that deserves a bigger setting and a bigger crowd. On a side note, their crowd banter is at like a B/B+ right now, but I think with the right thought and effort and substance abuse, we can get it to an A- (ed. note: Mom can’t complain about an A, it’s still edgy cause it’s got the -, everyone wins).
So, to the 17 other folks that joined the Budaphest and I last night, you witnessed something that could be nothing, but could, and by all means should, be something damn cool. Congratufuckinlations. The rest of Los Angeles, we’ll keep workin’ at it, I need a fuckin’ taco. Later.
Links for the Day:
– JEEZY, nuff said. (via the Fader)
– A good name gets a post (via RCRDLBL)
– Oh yippee, this sounds like ______ (via Complex)
– I tell this to my dog, but he don’t never listen (remix)(via Pure Volume)
– Hallelujah praise bejebus I’m Born again! (via Under the Radar)
– Porn doesn’t have to be new to be catchy, but it helps... (via Under the Radar)
– Ooooooh ooooh ooooh (via Pitchfork)
– So hip right now….pssssh. (via Pitchfork)
– There’s a lot goin on here....(via Stereogum)
– Fuckin’ yes! (via LA Music Blog)