While many UCLA students were partying to blow off post-midterm
steam last Thursday night, two musicians were representing the
lyrically driven anything-goes style of New York’s anti-folk
scene at The Avalon in Hollywood.
Jack Dishel, former guitarist for the now defunct anti-folk
anti-heroes The Moldy Peaches, displayed his serious side and his
ability to sing and write songs with his new group, Only Son.
While The Moldy Peaches sang about crack, crazy burgers and
greyhound buses, Only Son focuses on more conventional themes such
as love and lethargy in a fashion similar to alternative rock
artists such as The Unicorns and Beck.
Nonetheless, Dishel maintained the irreverent sense of humor of
The Moldy Peaches in his on-stage banter. During his introduction
for the mellow “My Museum,” Dishel pledged that the
upcoming song was so brutal that “your mama’s not gonna
recognize you,” but quickly admitted that the song “is
(actually) not that heavy.” In tune with the audience’s
waning reactions, Dishel demanded louder applause to console him
over the death of his dog, but quickly reprimanded the audience for
supporting “dog murder.”
Coming straight from a “Jimmy Kimmel Live”
recording, Regina Spektor, who fled the Soviet Union at age 9 for
New York because of growing anti-Semitism, said that we “live
really fast (in Los Angeles).” In an attempt to keep up, she
played about 20 songs from her four releases, including her latest
album, “Begin to Hope.”
Spektor’s first eight songs showcased her multi-tasking
abilities for filling in the missing sounds of a full band. During
“Poor Little Rich Boy,” Spektor violently drummed on a
wooden chair with her right hand, played the piano with her left
hand, and sang ferociously into the microphone ““ a feat
comparable to rubbing one’s head and stomach simultaneously,
only better.
In a flowing navy blue dress and her “beautiful, but
difficult, TV curls,” Spektor’s looks complemented her
stunning and innocent demeanor. As the “marry me
Regina!”s reached a heightening crescendo, a shyly smiling
Spektor commented that she did not think she had “even gotten
this many cat calls in bars.”
Even when Spektor’s three-piece band joined her on stage,
her personal quirks ““ hiccupping, breaking up syllables,
silly lyrics and the occasional airplane noise ““ marked the
songs as uniquely hers. Instead of alienating the audience,
Spektor’s eccentricities provoked crowd participation and
amusement. While the audience sang along to the morally uplifting
lyrics in “The Ghost of Corporate Future,” it took the
most pleasure in joining her on playful lines such as “He
steps right into somebody’s fat loogie / And everyone who
sees him says, “˜Ew.'”
While many of Spektor’s songs are intensely soulful or
punk-inspired, she decided to end her encore with the
dance-inducing “Hotel Song,” in a successful attempt to
decelerate the quarter-system pace of our Los Angeles lives.