The Love Language and Headlights @ Spaceland 4/12/09
Photos by Jeremy Oberstein/LAist
Every now and then, when the wind is blowing the right way, the moon is half full, and the planets align you walk into a small club and have your face melted off by the sheer brilliance of some little band you've never heard of. For the twenty of you who wandered into the Spaceland at around ten on Sunday night, you know exactly what I'm talking about. For the rest of you, who were engaged in other activities (eating Easter dinner with your loved ones, having tea with Satan, polishing your bowling trophy collection, whatever) let me just say that you guys should look out for the Love Language next time they come to town. It's worth missing a tea party with Beezelbub.
Hailing from Raleigh, North Carolina, the Love Language is a garage rock outfit which comprised of six musicians, two keyboardist, two guitarists, a drummer, a bassist, and someone who is designated wild tambourine dancer during any given song. Each tune seemed to be orchestrated so that someone was able to drop their instrument, grab the tambourine, and dance like a mad thing while the others played. This attitude of unbridled joy radiated from the stage and hit the audience like a steamroller.
I was unprepared for the sheer power, passion, and quality of sound from these guys. The only thing I had heard was their single, Lalita, which sounded as though it was recorded in the men's bathroom at Union Station. To be fair, their debut album was recorded in the lead singer's bathroom and attic, so it sounds largely unfinished. However, on stage they produced a sound that can be best described as: imagine if Belle and Sebastian were from the south...on steroids. They closed the night with the rawest version of Ricky Nelson's Hello, Mary Lou, that I've ever heard. Mark my words big things will be coming from that band.