It was a Friday. Los Angeles. Marnie Stern and Tera Melos at the Echo. The desire to proceed was unprecedented and undeniably real. Into the great wide peerless sky catapulted like dead skin born and freed from the lays and attachment of body, accompaniment, response and responsibility; three approached a new kindle of aural magnitude unseen.
Blistered in rain the journey began. Smog skies waved us onward. A blind vestige of impenetrable waves batted again and again. Streaking and streaking by and by. Pavement gripped at cautious speed. Danger ever present, weaving through cascading downpours and shitty drivers. A dense ball, liquid to the touch, impossible to trek without the weathered assault on high, pulsating droplets unceasing, Los Angeles shifting endlessly like a homeless man in high mental failure. The streets held no meaning. Narrow corridors threatened to swallow us whole. But beyond all reason we arrived…
At the gay bear’s night? What the hell is this shit? Unforeseen circumstances. The show was not at the Echoplex but at the echo upstairs. Fuck. We all enumerate our frustrations vividly and loudly. fuck fuck fuck. The rain continues like a cold shower set to “no where to hide.” Making our way up a hobo piss staircase we race drenched but spirited.
The Echo at last. Recovering as we make our way in tickets in hand, the familiar bursting bass of a live show pounds the air molecules. We enter. Pretentious, righteous, musical, ridiculous, nerdy, random, intelligent. The crowd shares many shades of fandom. An air of smugness. My kind of crowd. At the center of bar/ venue, the tiny stage would meld both musician and listener into one.
POWER AXE. Only half way into their set but they had something unreal about them. Having only seen and heard poor recorded videos of them, I could only expect the least of anything. Instead, an internal combustion engine of a band thumping at the burrows nerding within greeted. Reminiscent of an NES dungeon hulking out of an old wooden 80’s television to destroy the world of man, Power Axe kicked all sorts of ass.
MARNIE STERN. Holy shit. What amazing talent. What soul. What beauty. I have always loved Marnie Stern’s music every since I heard
This Is It and I Am It and You Are It and So Is That and He Is It and She Is It and It Is It and That Is That.
Yes. Fucking awesome album. Anyways. What could be said about this performance can hardly be said because well you had to be there.
TERA MELOS. The concluding band. Firstly I have to say, Tera Melos is unlike anything I’ve previously heard. This band is a like a group of lost time travelers, far beyond the scope and worth of this age. Seriously its like listening to something so constantly ahead of the mental process it immerses and permeates the neuro kinetic barriers trying to sway the hypnotic delivery that surgically stalks the brainial hemispheres; striding towards the cortex. A virus. subliminally unstoppable. Only the clinically unresolved invalid capsule of humanity wonders “what?”
Akin to a million childhoods, reruns, and wierd moments, Tera Melos has no comparative equal.
And thus ended our night. Astoundingly wet. But gratified by what was. what will come. A paradox circling like wolves ready. hungry. Wide eyed without thought, driven by instinct. Running on pure adrenaline.