The Knife sold out the El Rey last night in the biggest way possible. Despite a lack of ads, tickets had been largely unavailable for at least the past two weeks. In fact, it was only by happenstance that I was able to secure a second ticket so that I could take Carlos with me. At 9 p.m. last night, Wilshire Boulevard was crawling with scalpers searching for the ticketless, of which there were many. In fact, I would gather that all of the scalper tickets went considering that it was nearly impossible to walk inside the newly refurbished club.
Carlos and I hung out on the balcony before the show, sipping drinks and listening to a DJ play minimal techno. Somehow, our friends Robert and Bree stumbled upon us, which was odd considering that neither of us knew the others would be at the show (although, it was inevitable considering that we have been going on about The Knife in unison for the past few months). Then we had the chance to meet the legendary Green Pea-ness. We also ran into virtually every L.A. DJ who didn't have a gig booked that night.
Seconds before the show, the room went black. This wasn't your typical dim the lights for the performance moment. In the crowd, we couldn't see a thing unless we craned our necks enough to notice the orange neon square onstage. We thought it was planningtorock, as it seemed way too early for a headliner. In fact, it was The Knife. We ran downstairs.
Oddly enough, I had planned to wear three-inch heels but opted for flats at the last minute. I should have worn the heels. It seemed like the average-sized males in the audience were 6'3". All four of us had to stand on our tiptoes and try to slide up the El Rey walls in order to see anything more than the top portion of the skrim. Also, I should note that it was hotter than a Palm Springs nightclub inside the venue. I had to remove my sweater, which I am always loath to do.
I'm going to refrain from giving away too many details of the show, as I have to review it and don't particularly enjoy repeating myself. Besides, if you read the descriptions of the Webster Hall shows (here, here, here and here), you will get the idea. The performance didn't differ drastically. I will go on the record right now as saying it was too short of a performance. It felt like twenty minutes, althought it was probably much closer to an hour. Carlos described the end as being anticlimactic and he has a point. The duo just stopped playing and the lights went up while we were holding out for more.
After we all managed to find each other outside, the four of us headed over to T on Fairfax, which is the new joint operated by the guys who once owned the coolest bar L.A. ever had (The Parlour). We sat outside until closing sipping tea, eating dessert and discussing all sorts of random topics. We also made a vow that we will see Jeff Mills and Richie Hawtin on 11/24.