la-witch

 

Yes yes… there were many vaginas during this night. But some were better than others.

 

The overall vibe of the night was pussy power. Fierce ladies were playing rock on the stage, and among the extremely young die-hard hipster fans there was an obvious abundance of girls in the room.

 

I had the absolute pleasure of getting to see L.A. Witch in the flesh last week. They have the quintessential underground young experimental psychedelic sound that has been coming out of Los Angeles for a long time. These ladies exude sexuality on stage without having to show an inch of skin, or attempting to be cute. But perhaps the most sexual thing about them is not their cool demeanor, but their dark haunting rock and blues sound with haunting, brooding lyrics. These are sung by the only vagina I wanted to get to know better that night– the gorgeous lead vocalist and guitarist Sade Sanchez. But the rest of the female band were also impressive with their non-smiling faces and body language that reminded me of almost every badass female band from the 90s. I don’t know if their look and mood were supposed to embody the occult or the feminist movement (I hope so), but they are doing a great job at both.

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Next up were the chicks in Girlpool – yet another act from beloved Los Angeles. Just two awesome girls on guitars – nothing else required. They sound a lot like an updated version of the Veronicas and have a similar vibe to Sleater-Kinney and Hole – basically, they are badass bitches. The best part of Girlpool is their sense of humor in their lyrics and their playfulness with the audience. Things only got sentimental during their song “Cherry Picking,” which they dedicated to a guy in the audience who started crying as he sang along.

 

I asked a young girl standing next to me to tell me about Girlpool, as I had never really heard them before. This little bitch in a beanie hat with weed on her breath grew agitated at my lack of knowledge and my uncool self. She proceeded to yell at me and go on about how she just graduated from Pratt with a degree in graphic design and photography, but couldn’t get a job– she somehow tied this random tidbit to the fact I wasn’t familiar with all of the millions of bands out today. I got a good ear full for 10 minutes about how a person like me should never review anything like CMJ since I don’t have a PhD on the subject. I won’t bore you with the rest of the unnecessary assault, but what really got me mad was when she began to talk shit about the band. Yes, I finally lost my cool and screamed, “Hey! You fucking vagina! Fuck you!” She looked at me cross-eyed and told me I made her nervous. The best part of the show? When Girlpool would scream into the microphone making the little bitch squeal like a pig in pain.

 

Speaking of amazing female bands, I’m currently listening to The Slits, and contemplating painting on some Chola make-up and getting in another fight.
Ok….I’ll just settle for watching Orange is the New Black.

 

 

 

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