I went to my first Hollywood club last night to see Demon Bros. play some music at me. The lead guitarist is Mike from my class, who incidentally is only the second most punk rock person at UCLA Law. The name of the club was A.D., located just barely on the ghetto side of Hollywood (just a few blocks past where they stop lining the streets with big glowing stars), and getting there reinforced my theory that to get anywhere in the Los Angeles area from my apartment I just head down Santa Monica Boulevard for nine miles and turn right.
The band was cool. Much rocking was done. My latent purism forced me to scoff somewhat at their use of backup recordings, but since they're going for kind of a dance-metal sound that necessary involves unnatural noises, I made allowances (the standard response given by Sourdough Gunn, for example, when people complain about Nine Inch Nails' drum machines and backup tapes, is "Do you want to watch him sit there and program a computer on stage?"). Anyway, the highlight of the set was a really cool cover of "Strange Love" which, enjoyable as it was, really shouldn't be their first single if they hit the radio lest they suffer the fate of Orgy, Frente, and Alien Ant Farm.
Other high points of the evening were nearly making Jedi cry by asking him about the earlier version of "James K. Polk" (he didn't know about it), subsequently getting beaten by Jedi at arm wrestling, and learning from Steve that there was never any interesting Presidential hair.