Last night I finally got a chance to check out the Allah Las at one of their free Echo gigs. I say finally only because like one person has been telling me how good they are and I had it in mind to check them out. Not finally because this is something you must do. I would however recommend catching one of their last two residency gigs these upcoming weeks. Because the admission price is on point, the band handled business, and they coaxed a damn good crowd of gussied up cretins out of their hovels to come and boogie along with them.
It was indeed a spectacular night for people-watching. The crowd was full of mah’fuckers who sincerely try quite hard. So much so that I’m at an impasse as to whether I should just describe some of what I saw in the crowd or talk about the actual music. To that, let’s just say that there was much poor taste to be viewed. Several velvet shirts, a handful of ones, and a dude who looked like Jesus if Jesus had gotten into Mother Mary’s acid stash before he hit up the cross party. I tried to stick him in the dome with one of those Jam Van wrist band thingies, but I was clearly not inebriated enough, and so my aim was off and I missed by like an inch (ed. note: drats).
As to the music, well, like I said, business was handled. I timed this one correctly, and made it in to see the second act, the Crooked Cowboy, who was backed up by some creeper band who’s name I cannot remember, but who’s presence I certainly can. The Cowboy I recall as well, and had recalled him from a previous engagement. I saw him at some hipster film festival after party. I was crooked my damn self, climbing around in the upper parts of some downtown loft, filled with try’to’hards and oddballs. I remembered the Cowboy’s music being pretty funky, pretty “b-movie hip,” if you smell what I’m sayin’. You know, the type a shit you’d hear on some funky movie from back in the day that you stumble upon and feel kind of clever for having done so.
Anyhow, the cowboy on last night’s occasion was dressed in more of a weary Sea Captain’s garb, trench coat, bucket hat. He kept his grizzled face tucked down towards the mic, and scratched out lyrics through a voice that sounded like it was coming straight from the speaker’s and not from his mouth. His songs were the same kind of herky-twerky odd ball rock that had caught my ears the first time. His backup band was an assembly of the methadone clinic’s finest fidgets, but I’d have to give the MVP award to the keyboardist/backup singer chick. She did some kind of howling, dying cattle type singing into a mic that was thankfully turned way down. It was in a word, magical. I’d recommend the Cowboy and his posse to people who like to party, because his shit is funky, but funkier when funked up.
As for the Allah Las, they did not fail to provide the retro-surfer-rock that I had gone in search of. Their vibe was legit, they didn’t mess around with yappin’ too much banter at the crowd, it was strictly to the stage, to the rock, to the booze. I respect the hell out of that.
Singer miles Michaud had a good voice, a decent stage presence (ed. note: he could’a let loose a bit more, IMHO), and their songs are certainly unique. I tip my hat to lead guitarist Pedrum Siadation. He made his bitch squirm, and the sounds he she cooed out were fuckin’ groovy. The band got the hipsters shakin’, and I’m not talking about their usual sway side to side and look like their mom told them to stay in their room for the night type dance, no, they were in full on Elvis at the beach type boogie shit. A big ole’ mess of’em up front, swingin’. It looked like one a them hip ass music videos or movie scenes, shit, I already said that, so yeah, I guess I dug. Especially the track Every Girl, that’s my new jam. So gracias Allah Las for all a dat. As for you Flipstas, y’all keep on tryin’, I’m a keep observin’. Hump day onward!
Quote of the Day: I’ll set the scene first – Gorilla and I were sitting at a stop light, Gorilla was shooting blue bracelet thingies at people outside. A car full of rather round men of a certain ethnicity pulled up beside us and Gorilla debated hitting them with a rubber bracelet thingy…
Gorilla: “Do you think they like live music?”
Gorilla: “Do you think they like churros?”
Me (laughing hysterically): “Yes.”
Sorry, but if your belly can’t fit under the steering wheel, and your three companions stomachs are all of equal sizes, AND you’re shoved into an economy car, well I am going to laugh and/or make a comment. Nuff said.
Links for the day: