We're pathologically social. We're professional leisurists. We're burrito lovers, bar flies, art whores and music nerds. We dish the good dirt, and we'll risk a parking ticket for a cheap sample sale. Sometimes, we blog drunk.
I ran away to join West Indian Girl
Have you been to Bordello yet? I checked out the recently renovated space last night for the first time to spin records at a show by my favorite L.A. band, West Indian Girl. Here's a shot of them spreading their big sonic love all over the packed room:
Their new album, "4th and Wall" (recorded in a studio on that sketchy corner of downtown) is in heavy rotation at Blipster HQ. It's loaded with great songs like "Hollywood" and “To Die in L.A.,” but today it’s all about “Solar Eyes,” which W.I.G. absolutely murdered last night. I call it “the bullhorn song,” as singer Mariqueen sings it through a (wait for it) bullhorn.
DJing for them was awesome. I was able to play all sorts of cool tunes from the likes of the Teenagers, Wooden Shjips, Of Montreal and the Fifth Dimension, whose “Up, Up and Away” served as the perfect opener for W.I.G.’s set.
I spent most of the night chatting with super-cool sound guy Adam between songs. Here he is in action:
Adam requested I play some Frank Zappa. Hey Adam, I’m spinning “Catholic Girls” just for you next time!
W.I.G.'s bass player is my dear friend Fran, who I've known ever since we used to terrorize Ann Arbor, MI back in the day like the hooligans we were. He’s one of the best people you’ll ever meet. Fran is the man:
I wish there was an upcoming W.I.G. gig that I could mention here, but the sweet children will be taking it easy for the rest of the year. When they return to the L.A. stage, we'll be all over it. Believe!
Instead, let me point you towards this Saturday night, where L.A. is blessed with an overabundance of great shows. I mean, how often you can choose between Stevie Wonder, Etta James, Les Savy Fav, Pigeon John, Snoop Dogg and the almighty hip-hop legend DJ Premier on the same night? There ought to be a law!
—Scott T. Sterling
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