EXEK, Prettiest Eyes
1234 West 7th Street
Los Angeles, CA, 90017
Doors 8:00 PM / Show 9:00 PM
This event is all ages
Psych-punk psychic warrior, ear worm-farmer, and possessor of many stamped passport pages John Dwyer does not let up. His group Oh Sees (aka Thee Oh Sees, OCS, The Oh Sees, etc) have transmogrified to fit many a moment – from hushed druggy folk to groovy demonic pop chants to science fictional krautrock expanse and beyond – to suit his omnivorous whims. It’s common knowledge however, that at their shows, you’re there asking for a beating. 20 years going and the shows keep getting more and more intense, as many a soupy swarm can attest. The locked-in Rincon/Quattrone drum cops propel masses of strangers to froth and lean into each other as the insistent and repetitive underpinning tumbles nimbly from Tim Hellman’s bass. Meanwhile John ricochets breathy yips and snippets of synth and all manner of guitar heroics around your brain canyons while your reptile instincts yell “move”. Brain-stem body rock meets cerebral expanses, and their now du jour prolifically feeds a labyrinthine garden of well-hewn tunes.
Last year’s Orc was a muscular and darkly inventive turn for the group, stretching out further into space while simultaneously sharpening their heaviest inclinations to a rusty point. After a re-visitation of the softer side of the genesis of the group with “Memory of a Cut Off Head”, all signs point to another banger on the horizon as the group decamps this March back to the dusty pecan farm where Orc was spawned for another go-round.
“Very pleased to be working with Prettiest Eyes. I first saw them ages ago at the Satellite and they were cake-takers that night. Now, they are stronger and weirder than ever. I couldn’t believe this new batch of tunes and their bananas- energy live show and, their fans are hard-core heads, just a soup of dance and mouths agog. Brutal, fractured, pogoing beats played by Pachy [Garcia], also the singer, belching out vocal smoke rings in the laser light above the din—they are flat out commands, militaristic in their delivery and yet catchy, like you like em. Marcos, an extro-sensual bass- ist who climbs inside of your mind-clothes while grinding out aggressively greasy throbs and pulls and Paco, the key- boardist, who at times plays reeling wailing lines that could be mistaken for a number of other instruments…and the hair on this dude! I have a hard time remembering how nice his face is offstage, all you can see is a whip wigging out.
They are captivating, they are odd, they make strange and interesting choices. Futuristic and yet drawn from the same sonic sludge that all mankind derives from, they live and breathe early Los Angeles-punk vibes while still innovating at every turn. There is electricity in this sound, they simply rule and what a pleasure to hear Pools doesn’t stray far from what makes them just melt it in person. Recorded perfectly to harness the animal on a nice inanimate slab of plastic you can take home. For fans of Screamers, Suicide, Chrome, and yes, a hint of a down unda Birthday Party.”