The main question on my mind as I watch Tearist open for La Roux is: Which one of these band members sucked the cock and/or pussy of the person in charge of booking at the El Rey? How does a band with under 11,000 MySpace views on the day of the show end up landing this type of gig? Not to say this isn’t indicative of a talent all its own, but shit, are they going to start letting any band within ten miles of Silverlake that has a MySpace page go on? At that point, every venue in the city will be overrun with white guys in glasses, ill-fitting pants, and a sweatshirt clearly bought from Goodwill.
Apart from Tearist, there was La Roux, who was ever so languid about taking the stage. I smoked half a pack of Camels, waited in a bathroom line that moved at the speed of Lonesome George (the famously celibate turtle), and bought several obscenely priced drinks in the time it took Miss Jackson (La Roux’s Christian name) to appear. Before she went on, it was explained that an ongoing illness/sore throat would cut the set a bit short. And so, with that sobering news, La Roux erupted onto the stage with a sky high tidal wave of red hair belting out “Quicksand.” Immediately after the song, she apologized for her voice and then wasted no time delving into the latest single from her self-titled album, “I’m Not Your Toy.”
After performing a single only available in the UK and probably some Japanese version of the album (“Finally My Saviour”) and a slow jam called “Cover My Eyes,” La Roux introduced her band: Mikey on synths/keyboards, Mickey on backing vocals/keyboard, and William on drums. She then encouraged the crowd to help her sing along to the ever so successful (in the UK anyway) “In for the Kill.” The audience quickly obliged, some even (premeditatedly of course) jumping on stage to dance with the ailing Brit. Before the closing song, La Roux danced about to “Colourless Colour” and then closed up shop with “Bulletproof,” which she assured was the equivalent of two songs because of its extendedness. So long it was in fact, that there was even time for La Roux to bring a child on stage strategically dressed by the girl’s mother to garner such attention. Need I say this kid’s just one step away from being the next balloon hoax? The show concluded more quickly than it began and although La Roux delivered a worthy performance, I still say: Next time, take a fuckin B12 shot and heal your damn self. Oh well, it’s not as though that many people were disappointed. It still seems that the only ones aware of La Roux in the LA area are chic people and lesbians (two qualities that are sometimes indecipherable).