James Ford and James Shaw twist and turn together ornate vases topped with delicate bordering outerweaving the inner rims of a thin and susceptible frame of reference. That didn’t make sense for the same reason that their music makes you dance.
Simian Mobile Disco really does care about its mobility; even though there’s enough action in the audience to distract even the most avid dancer, nothing can compare to watching the duo unfold electronic rhythms in a symphony of knob turning and wire plugging, looking strikingly similar to a 70′s operator.
They kept the tempo of the show well in the sinusoidal-fun type fashion of a graph, their low points never reaching far below normal yet soaring high above expectations.
Simian Mobile Disco – Cruel Intentions
Tale of Two Tails – A fictional story
After ‘I believe‘ started the encore I stepped outside to smoke a cigarette at 11:00 and fell into the caring ramblings of this Australian tourist. She insisted on confusing me with her idioms and accent, but it all led to the security guard asking us to leave through an empty Mayan Night Club to the street.
If the girl I met inside was ‘eclectic,’ than her two friends outside were ‘motherly’ and ‘retarded.’ ‘Retarded’ was fondling some guy, let’s call him ‘bro,’ and ‘motherly’ was yelling at everyone to do something, so I offered to give everyone a ride back to their hotel, which turned out the Beverly Hilton.
When I dropped everyone off, ‘eclectic’ and I decided to heckle the Hooka Bar Patrons in Westwood to kill some time. That turned out to be a little anti-climatic and we headed back towards the Hilton.
Fuck Beverly Hills. Parking sucks.
We headed towards the lobby and walked up towards their backyard-astroturfed-courtyarded type area to see that ‘retarded’ was smoking a cigarette alone. We inquired.
“Where’d ‘brosef’ go?”
“He came in a minute.”
Happy Thanksgiving!
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