4.6 David Vandervelde @ 6th & Alameda
I know it’s irksome, how music fans in the know get so smug and gloaty about that time they caught some once-in-a-lifetime moment that will go down in the annals of rock history, FOREVER, like the time Nirvana played at a taco stand for just them and the counter person, who watched Mexican soap operas the whole time.
And yet, it must be done: Seeing David Vandervelde play on a giant half pipe in the heart of downtown LA on Friday night had the distinct aura of one of those magical musical moments. Having missed his industry-heavy set at Spaceland (this young lad is officially hot stuff, and then some), I headed downtown to see him play an impromptu set at an art space at 6th and Alameda (recent host to the stellar LA Record party featuring the Melvins and Darker My Love. What?! This was before I even started writing for LA Record, so I’m not at all biased; well, maybe just a little), where they will apparently be having free shows all summer.
Vandervelde and crew (his bassist and drummer) promptly set up and got down to it, as a good-sized crowd milled about smoking their lungs out and eating popsicles. Man can he sing, especially given what you would imagine was a less than pro stage setup, (although, to give credit where it's due, when he blew out all of the microphones partway through his set, the sound person got him up and running again quickly). He delivered songs in that cool, earnest way he has from his Secretly Canadian debut, “The Moonstation House Band,” which somehow manages to conjure both Marc Bolan and Graham Parsons. The songs are at once sexy and stylish, while also having enough raw country twang and indie edge to make them sound like totally fresh offerings. And, unbelievably, he began recording them when he was just 19 (rock trivia moment: the album features string arrangements by David “Beck’s dad” Campbell, who has also worked with Elton John and Leonard Cohen). The night's highlight was a wild and intense reworking of Cocksucker Blues made all the more apocalyptic by the explosions erupting on the screen behind him, as the amazing ‘70s sci fi classic “Death Race 2000” (starring a baby faced Sly Stallone as Machine Gun Joe Viterbo) was being screened. Seriously gorgeous music with a dark edge of danger from a young musician who couldn’t be sweeter or funnier (hearing him sing some of his original racy raps over drinks and dancing was a serious moment of its own). Gush much? Who me?
