my personal inferno

Pretentiousness is just passion that you can't justify. If something doesn't relate to you, or you have prior knowledge, you crash.

We can kvetch about the digital age all we want, but it won't change the way we view media. That said, why be a defeatist? What are you doing to change minds? To sit and talk about how people choose to express their creativity all the while you produce nothing yourself is so boring. Are you a boring person? Of course not. You write on occasion, or maybe you're a photographer. Film? Maybe paint? H

owever, all you do with your craft is complain about and judge others. Pretentiousness has become a scapegoat term for those who choose to not pursue their interests with passion. What gives you the right to critique the work of others, claiming that they just do it to seem a certain way, portray some aesthetic, all while you do nothing yourself. Boring. Your laughter is a blanket, and your rudeness is weak armor. Funny how those you despise are getting along far better than yourself.

But like I said, why be a defeatist?

Why don't you change this about yourself?

Interview with 5tr8tch, Neurotek 7/21/23

“You have to be adaptable. There are no excuses in this shit.”

There are a lot of DJs in LA; there is no point in denying that. However, for most, it does take them a while to master their craft, let alone anyone mention their name. During a six month period, Kian Stretch took a liking to vinyl and started spinning techno and other tunes and hasn’t stopped since. 5tr8tch is not someone that you should take your smoke break during. 

I had the luxury of seeing his first gig sometime in Febuary at a small store-turned-soundspace in Santa Ana. At the time of this performance, I had no clue that it was his first time ever spinning for a crowd. He has worked alongside some of LA’s current golden child DJ’s, giving much credit to Amir Karneh or 1Morning.

Originally from Seattle, Stretch moved to LA for a change of scenery. At 13, he was already scratching over hip-hop records, all the while expanding his musical talents. At home, he was a producer for the underground rap scene as well as a talented jazz drummer. Playing in jazz clubs and salsa/Latin groups, he applied the technical skill and trained ear into techno. 

“Drumming helped me with everything most, [...] playing the drums and understanding the timing helps me with everything. You have to be able to keep timing and um, beat matching. I see some people like, learn it on vinyl and its a lot going on. I already had my ear trained to play along.” 

Stretch is completely self-taught in every aspect of his music. Although drumming is no longer a passion he pursues, he commends it deeply. 

Before techno, he credits artists like Burial and LTJ Bukem for introducing him to the world of electronic music. What truly changed for him was watching Karneh spin for the first time. He had already loved the music and seen some DJs, but it wasn’t until his friend of seven years performing that flipped the switch. 

Their friendship had started long before his move dating to when he worked on SoundCloud rap. At the time, Stretch wasn’t taking music seriously and more so just enjoyed being involved in musical projects and the chaos of couch surfing. 

Stretch isn’t stuck to any specific styles yet. I had asked him if this was because he was still relatively new, but he wasn’t sure. For the most part, he does whatever sounds good, his style is fluid more than anything else. 

if anything, his sound is technical chaos. Although I will put my fascination with vinyl DJs and their ability to flip through their records at lightning speed aside, I was curious about his setup and knowing which vinyl he was about to play, to which he replied, “I just winged it.”

“Maybe some people plan it out, I don’t know. The way me and my homies do it, we have a general idea but we don’t like–, fucking memorize the BPM and do it this to this to this. Nah, there's no fun in that.”

I wanted to know if he had noticed any significant mistakes in his set that night. For the audience, if you can play off anything good enough, your worst nightmare could be your best transition.

“I don't think I did. [...] It’s vinyl, it’s never going to be perfect. That’s what it’s about. I don’t want it to be perfect, there’s fun in fixing your shit.”

He compared techno and its similarity to jazz music, my friend adding that techno became the evolution of jazz. Stretch has learned how to play the audience and never show sweat, something which can be attributed to his time in jazz bands. 

While he doesn’t have a signature yet, he doesn’t believe he can place that label upon him. He wants the audience to decide, with the only end goal being a good set that others can enjoy. 

“Every time you do that shit and the homies have you hyped, it’s not like you can remember what you did.”

Stretch also vends at the Silverlake Flea market and eventually is planning to open up a record store.

TOP INFLUENCES:

Jeff Mills 

As long as the opening band isn’t anything I can’t find on a UC radio station’s cluttered CD shelf, I usually like to stay and watch for a while. The crowds may be dull as they attempt to decipher whether the music is worth their attention, but the few listening are decently impressed. Most of the time, they won’t get anywhere far. This is one of the disappointing aspects of the LA music scene. However, with all genres considered, it makes some interesting discoveries.

I understand the annoyance of writing about two separate bands from the same night, but 2070’s performance opening for Bar Italia was something I would have kicked myself for if I had missed it. After one song, I pulled out my notebook and began to write anything that came to my head– I knew I would have to interview them despite knowing nothing but what had laid before me. Until the actual interview, I hadn’t even known the band’s name. After “excuse me”-ing my way to the front, knocking over someone’s propped recent purchase of Tracey Denim in the process, I was able to grab the bassist’s attention.

2070 originated in their home state of Michigan without any stable bandmates. Frontman Trevor Coleman began the band alongside bassist Khari Cousins’ brother before Khari took his place. The band’s current lineup consists of drummer Rogers DeCoud, guitarist Danny Rincon, Coleman, and Cousins.

Cultivating a fanbase out home, the band had some general success in surrounding cities. After moving out to LA with other 2070 bandmates, the pair began assimilating into a new landscape.

Much of the band came to be in spur-of-the-moment decisions, as each band member have their own additional side projects to focus on. Two of the three are indie-lofi artists, with the drummer DeCloud being a DJ. Despite this, their work doesn’t clash.

COU: “I feel like our own solo stuff is all very different, but we have very similar interests in music.”

COL:“We realized we play really well with each other.”

For me, this statement was not shocking.

Their sound fills the room, and I had explicitly asked them if it was the venue or how they genuinely play, realizing after that the question sounded slightly backhanded.

COU: “We still record softer but I feel like we still play it somewhat louder to like, give it that like ambiance– that like fills up the room.”

Once again, no surprise here. It is one of the beauties of seeing the band live, your experience is nowhere near the same as remote listening. I had mentioned to them that their imperfect playing added an element of reality that many current artists desperately try to erase. Artists have begun to sound formulated for live music, with their production tuned to what is believed to be imperfect perfection– a simulation of raw performance. While I am nowhere near calling 2070 the finest performers in LA, they have true character. Their fear of mistakes is not at the forefront of performance; they don’t become hindered by an overly loud chord.

COU: “ I don’t know if it is intentional it just always happens that way. I think we are just comfortable with it being that way. [...] We just kinda play through it, but it’s always something.”

Unfortunately, due to the owners of the venue yelling for us to leave and my inability to write legibly, the other questions were left unanswered. After the initial viewing, I can confirm they will be on my radar, and should be on yours too.

Bathroom at El Cid, Bar Italia 6/19/23

I got the call that a ticket was free an hour and a half before the band was set to play.

Bar Italia's first LA show seemed fit for a Monday, and everyone inside was dressed far to appropriately for the setting. What may have lacked in originality from the crowd made up in the main event, a performance everyone will brag about for years to come.

Bar Italia had been the best kept secret of the noisy British post-punk scene debuting their first album Quarrel in 2020. Mystery and irony are at the forefront of their aesthetic, seemingly not taking their music as intentionally serious. The debut was short and sweet, not sticking to one specific genre yet not earning an experimental title. Their first recorded album becomes more muffled as each track proceeds, as if you are falling into a dreamlike state while listening. With this said, it was a blessing to hear their sound wide awake.

The band spoke not one word while performing. However, I do not think this was due to a lack of chemistry. The three heads of the band, Nina Cristante, Sam Fenton, and Jezmi Tarik Fehmi worked harmoniously whilst not batting a single eye towards each other.  I had told my friends that Nina’s demeanor reminded me of Hope Sandoval, in which one laughed and went, 

“No”. 

They did not bid the crowd farewell and simply took off their instruments and walked off stage. Untrained listeners assumed an encore, but luckily my friends and I linked arms and caught them as they were walking off stage into the corridor. They are truly stunning people; genetics had blessed them well. 

Although I tread lightly when describing a band through their online presence alone, I’m not sure how serious they could be when their album covers consist of memes that are popular during the time. I too felt like a crying stick figure once the set ended. 

The band themself are wonderful people, not yet touched by arrogance from their success. My lovely friend went to speak to them after the show and was gifted a small strip of paper that had their setlist. While speaking to them he claimed that their image isn’t cultivated, they just come across as the niche they wish to present. This doesn’t discredit their humor or general attractiveness, they are just kind people. 

Speaking of the crowd is not anywhere near as interesting as the band itself, but it does speak to the character of Bar Itaila's fanbase. It very well could have been the annoying LA charm everyone possessed, but it gave an aura of pretentiousness. As we danced and sang along, many in the crowd turned heads and told my companion to “be aware” to which I had turned and replied, “must be your first time”. It occurred a couple times throughout the night, but I don’t think our behavior was anywhere near inappropriate. You’re there to dance and sing and enjoy the music; why bother standing stone cold to seem otherworldly to a crowd who will probably laugh at you anyways. Might as well have some fun. 

I also must mention that the opening band 2070 was phenomenal. I had a chance to interview the leading members which will come out soon. 

Unlike other artists, or perhaps it was due to the size of the venue, they seemed real. I fear the band may be stuck in reddit purgatory for a while until their eventual burnout from popularity. Regardless, the band deserves success. They may be Matador’s unknown goldenchild for the time being, and I hope they continue with this status. 

5/23/23 I saw the cure last night for the second time, the first being for my 16th birthday. I am writing this from my current job, a place I fear I won't have the luxury of leaving anytime soon. After a misfortunate hit, I had passed out briefly for the first two songs. Who knew my interdimensional state was a cosmetic kaleidoscope of orange squares. I also attribute the mishap to low iron. So far, not off to a great start.

I wasn't embarrassed; passing out was a sign of status in the Victorian era. However, a couch would have been nice to faint on. The performance was great, Robert however didn't show himself on stage. Maybe it is from vanity or fear of showing his age. He allowed the camera to shadow his face briefly during Plainsong; moodily swaying exposing a thin ponytail among the rats nest. My mother mentioned it was vanity at this point, she had never seen him perform this way. "He is just old and insecure."

I guess if you paid enough money, you were graced with his presence. The colorful blinding lights will have to suffice for the rest of us. Sadly, I don't have 300 dollars to blow, but my 40 for each ticket did grant me a front and center seat on the third row of the Hollywood Bowl. Like always, my mom and I left early, she doesn't bother to see the whole set of a band that she's seen more than three times. Her rules, not mine. I hate when she does this, but I thought after my incident, I would oblige.

Going was a last minute decision. After taking the train and getting allergy medicine, we were in. We were by far the youngest people there, but if I squinted enough I could imagine that it was 1992. Taking off my glasses helped. I desperately wanted to interview anyone there, I wasn't picky. Unlucky to me, I ended up leaving my pen at home-- something that I never do. Granted, I did forget a lighter as well. The setlist was great but no Drive Blind... my spine hurt the entirety of the concert. By the time The Charlatans went on I felt as if I was going to collapse. Honestly, I don't know if it was a sign that things are going to start over but it felt like it. I sure hope they are. I just need to keep in mind that shoegaze concerts will make me temporarily deaf.