It happens every time. The underground gets “Over”. I used to get bitter, gripping to pre-big-break bands like stuffed pound puppies, all to myself. I didn’t want the wrong people getting their hands on my top secrets in fear of a co-opted movement of fakers and perpetrators. I guess it was the battle-mode hip-hop head in me, “keeping it true.” Who would have thought that same hip-hop head would be beat matching techno and disco records just a few years later? You grow up. You turn in your cotton-padded animals to Goodwill and let others share the love you held too tight to chest for oh so long.
As is the case with a little group called Hot Chip. Passed to me five years ago by my work supervisor Will at the Environmental Design library of UC Berkeley, Coming On Strong was an album that slapped me in a, you never heard some shit like this before, kind of way. Wonderin’ how the hell does Stevie Wonder see things. It was on some other - whiteboy eclectic electric funk with enough tongue in cheek to keep you constantly guessing. Kraft dinners, shiny SUV’s, blazin’ out Yo La Tengo, and I don’t know about babies being born. Far from anything I reshelved books to ever before. Yeah, it made a major mark and lead me into a world of music that could allow the outside world a peak in, while still remaining itself all the while.
Flash forward five years to a few days ago. I show up at the Wiltern for the second of a dual-night Hot Chip stint. The fair share of scenic weenies and bangs-hidden women greet me in the foyer. Despite lacking the coveted purple wristband, I found my way down to the pit area of the venue (good to see my gangster tactics are still in tact) where giddy groupies ogled stage hands, presuming they were band members putting the finishing touches on sound check. A bearded man behind me let out a massive war cry in honor of the headliners and, as if on cue, the five Chippers, joined by the live drummer from the LCD band, made their way on stage to much hurrah.
Trendy or not, the band still knows how to put on a damn good show. Despite only playing one track from their first (and finest) album, a so-so rendition of Down With Prince, they tweaked and freaked synths and drum machines churning out their latest sweat inducing hits Ready For The Floor and One Pure Thought (of which the Supermayer remix is ridic). Not their best show ever - admittedly I lacked the school boy fervor from years passed - but it did rank up there, climaxing with an encore performance of No Fit State that resembled a crazed American Apparel ad once enough flailing hip-kids jumped on stage.
They concluded with a disappointing slow song that I didn’t recognize, deflating the energy that they had surmounted in one fell swoop, but I guess it was a fitting comedown from their high octane set. The lights came on and everyone scattered like vampires into the street. A bombardment of rave fliers from every angle shortly followed. I walked away with a resolved sentiment, realizing, you can blow up a balloon and still stick a needle in its soft spot without it popping.
As is the case with a little group called Hot Chip. Passed to me five years ago by my work supervisor Will at the Environmental Design library of UC Berkeley, Coming On Strong was an album that slapped me in a, you never heard some shit like this before, kind of way. Wonderin’ how the hell does Stevie Wonder see things. It was on some other - whiteboy eclectic electric funk with enough tongue in cheek to keep you constantly guessing. Kraft dinners, shiny SUV’s, blazin’ out Yo La Tengo, and I don’t know about babies being born. Far from anything I reshelved books to ever before. Yeah, it made a major mark and lead me into a world of music that could allow the outside world a peak in, while still remaining itself all the while.
Flash forward five years to a few days ago. I show up at the Wiltern for the second of a dual-night Hot Chip stint. The fair share of scenic weenies and bangs-hidden women greet me in the foyer. Despite lacking the coveted purple wristband, I found my way down to the pit area of the venue (good to see my gangster tactics are still in tact) where giddy groupies ogled stage hands, presuming they were band members putting the finishing touches on sound check. A bearded man behind me let out a massive war cry in honor of the headliners and, as if on cue, the five Chippers, joined by the live drummer from the LCD band, made their way on stage to much hurrah.
Trendy or not, the band still knows how to put on a damn good show. Despite only playing one track from their first (and finest) album, a so-so rendition of Down With Prince, they tweaked and freaked synths and drum machines churning out their latest sweat inducing hits Ready For The Floor and One Pure Thought (of which the Supermayer remix is ridic). Not their best show ever - admittedly I lacked the school boy fervor from years passed - but it did rank up there, climaxing with an encore performance of No Fit State that resembled a crazed American Apparel ad once enough flailing hip-kids jumped on stage.
They concluded with a disappointing slow song that I didn’t recognize, deflating the energy that they had surmounted in one fell swoop, but I guess it was a fitting comedown from their high octane set. The lights came on and everyone scattered like vampires into the street. A bombardment of rave fliers from every angle shortly followed. I walked away with a resolved sentiment, realizing, you can blow up a balloon and still stick a needle in its soft spot without it popping.
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