It’s refreshing to hear something from LA that doesn’t sound like surf-pop or impeccably produced, utterly harmless, radio friendly indie pop/rock. Not that the Brooklyn scene is any less embarrassing or more authentic, to each his/her own, but LA seems to have a hard time being as loose, experimental, and organic as New York (and the rest of the mid-north east). Hands is a big, big exception, and apparently bloggers in and out of the LA scene have been taking notice (that’s what happens when you serve a glass of ice water in hell, amirite?). Even Filter Mag, sticking out amongst the peppering of smaller blogs, has chimed in. So are they really that great? Why all the hubbub? Here’s why:
As Mark from yvynyl astutely analogized, perhaps there’s something in the California wildfires that a handful of LA bands are able to tap, some make of defiance that staring an inevitable wave of flame in the face can bring to true poetic craftsmen. Whether fire or some other muse — an awakening, a maturity, a loss, a connection, a failure, a success — there’s something profound in the origins of this music.