We spent a half-hour driving around Silverlake sidestreets trying to find a parking spot. We stood in line for no less than twenty minutes wondering if any of the grocery stores in this neighborhood sell shampoo. We returned to the car after the show only to find a big, fat parking ticket firmly planted on the windshield of the Carlosmobile. Was it worth it? Hell yeah.
It was worth it because The Bell Rays are one of the best live bands this haven for the overrated has to offer. Lisa Kekaula has a voice too big for little ol' Spaceland. She struts onstage in an ass-high, Kelly Bundy-tight black dress, silver shoes with cut-out wedge heels and massive gold earrings. Her hair stays firmly in place throughout the entirety of the lengthy set, even though she is working up such a sweat that her glitter eyeshadow slowly trickles down the side of her cheek, catching the light reflecting off her earrings. She isn't a singer. She is a rock star, belting numbers that feel like bits of life that the audience can only express through its screams and handclaps, commanding the crowd to move, chiding the guy next to me for standing with his arms folded. Every slice of heart-wrenching soul, be it Tina or Otis, that I heard as a child is in her voice.
The band plays on her voice, mixing fast-paced garage rock with drawn-out jams. Virtually every song ends with a dramatic roll of the drums as if to say, "You thought we were finished, but we sure fooled you." It's a rock'n'roll that, as cynics will tell you, has not existed since 1970-something.
The Bell Rays will make you burn like trapped in a rock inferno. Don't believe me? Check them out for yourself. They're playing at Spaceland every Monday for the next month. No cover.