Monotonix, Ty Segall and Devin Therriault all came out of Thursday night’s performance at the Echoplex as winners. But the three performances, from three artists at very different phases of their career, couldn’t have been farther apart in terms of intent. But that is what FYF Fest, the concert-throwing entity that held the show, does Their fest brings together electronic, hardcore, indie and everything in between for an event that defies classification, and now on a nearly weekly basis, they are doing the same thing with small shows. It serves to cast light on the fact that people’s musical tastes are as wide-ranging as ever. The line of punk, or later the line of alternative, has now become blurred as The Decemberists have the number one album in the country and Fucked Up’s Pink Eye serves as a cable-news correspondent.
And, good. I mean, if this doesn’t excite you, if you want musical tastes and genres to be clearly defined and exclusionary, than have fun on your island. I’d rather be a part of something that welcomes all, but maybe that’s just me.
Devin Therriault was invited from New York to make his L.A. debut, and was the most exciting set of the night, musically. With a three-piece backing band, Therriault came to Los Angeles with both something to prove and the confidence to do just that. Looking like one of Pony Boy Curtis’ older brothers (actually, more like Emilio Estevez’s Two-Bit), Therriault isn’t all swagger, but he does have attitude to spare (I was later informed that it was something like his twelfth show… ever).
No, more impressive than Therriault’s energetic persona are his tunes, which combine the Jerry Lee Lewis and Elvis Presley flair with something that I would describe as an amped-up Tallest Man On Earth. He’s got crazy-eyes, wants people to dance, and seems to have some solid hooks at first listen. Though I didn’t know anything about him, he was the one act that succeeded both musically and visually, providing just as much stimulation for the listeners as the watchers.
Next up was Ty Segall, member of a million bands and recent noise-maker on year-end lists. Segall had the crowd behind him for nearly every note of his set, clearly striking a chord within the indie-kids, who piled in close to thrash into each other. Though it was an enjoyable set at the most base of levels, it left me wondering what the fuss was that has so many publications, including Pitchfork, singing his praises.
Now I like loud, screamy tunes as much as the next shithead, but I didn’t witness anything that differentiated Segall from the majority of stoner-crunch that opens shows in Echo Park. Besides his hair whipping that would make Willow Smith proud. He was truly a master of rocking out in his own world. But I never fully embraced this reality, unlike every single other person there. So, for now, I give Ty Segall the benefit of the doubt and figure I need to do some more research before judging his tunes. For now, though, it was not love at first site.
If you don’t know about Monotonix, well, my first question is why are you reading a Monotonix concert review? But allow me to give a brief background. I first witnessed the band as opener for the Silver Jews about five years back. Now, besides the fact that Monotonix is from Tel Aviv and Silver Jews are named “Silver Jews,” there are no real similarities in sound. But why I remembered Monotonix from that night way back, and what has now become their calling card, was their reluctance to embrace the stage. Oh, they like attention. The stage is simply not close enough to the fans for them and they have now taken to playing almost entirely in the audience.
It’s rad.
Now my previous Monotonix experience saw the band begin playing on the stage as normal and then make their way into the crowd as the set progressed. On this night, standing in the photo pit, it became apparent that this would not be the case. The band was not going to be using the stage at all, as they lined the front of the stage with amps. I realized this was no place to stand and, thankfully, the venue staff and FYF allowed the photographers to get on the stage to shoot the beginning of the show. This was a great (read: safe) place to witness the show, as singer Ami Shalev, looking like a cross between Borat and Charles Manson, began the set with a stage dive and a good minute-long crowd surf around the Echoplex.
The music… well, what do you say about Monotonix. Music was played. It was loud, it was fun, it was not particularly memorable. But Monotonix is more about the experience than the tunes. In fact, a little later someone asked me if the music sounds good on record. My point-blank reply was “who cares?” Monotonix is about getting sweaty, getting close to some strangers, jumping around a bit; you know, having fun. And that mission was accomplished with multiple exclamation points.
The band moved around the floor like five-year olds play soccer, or as my dad called it, “herd ball.” The action would slowly shift around the venue, with drums being passed above the audience, sometimes getting played six-feet in the air. Eventually, Shalev did a magic carpet ride through the room and wound up on the stage to close-out the night. Then everything got a little real, as he announced the band would be making this tour their last, citing babies and marriage and life-needing-to-be-lived as (valid) reasons. And watching them, you can’t blame the band for not being able to keep this up, or simply not wanting to. They are 100% energy and the fans love them for it. Lasting impressions have been made for anyone who has ever seen Monotonix, and if that wasn’t enough, their name is now painted on the stairwell that connects Sunset Blvd. with Glendale Blvd. We didn’t need that to remember Monotonix, but it is one more reminder of the band that plays by its own rules. We’ll miss them and if you haven’t seen them, catch them in the next couple weeks while you can. They capture the spirit of these shows FYF has been putting on: creating memorable events at all costs. Luckily, there are others, like Devin Therriault, ready to take the baton
