Blonde Redhead, Interpol - Los Angeles

The cryptic cement floors of Grand Olympic Auditorium mirrored the dismal resonance that define New York quartet Interpol. Sponsored by a certain "world famous" radio station, the event bred a bunch of teenagers solely raised on top-forty singles, and the majority of the crowd seemed to be purely virgin to the magic of openers Blonde Redhead.

With whimsical and dissonant delivery, Blonde Redhead presented themselves as an eclectic and humble trio with an immense amount of passion. Under warm lights of fuchsia, highlights from their set include "In Particular," "Melody of a Certain Three," and "Melody." Demonstrating enormous range, they traveled from a type of airy dream pop to dirty-heavy-drum garage rock. Singer Kazu Makino effortlessly glided across the stage, seductively strutting in an old pair of white retro go-go boots and caressing her instruments like loved ones, while the Pace twins portrayed an equal amount of fervor with focused conveyance. With trance-like lightness, Blonde Redhead showed a vast power, casting a spell over the crowd, mysteriously manipulating the acoustics of the auditorium.



After much anticipation, Interpol appeared to greet hordes of screaming fans. Singer Paul Banks' white school boy loafers could be seen from a mile away as bassist Carlos D. saluted his usual mob of estrogen in charming traffic, guitarist Daniel Kessler swayed in a half-Elvis knee-lock as drummer Sam Fogarino, attentive, kept the band progressing and the crowd shaking. Interpol ended up playing everything I thought they wouldn't play, just in terms of voice overlapping and instrumental difficulty. Highlights include the animated "Not Even Jail," nostalgic "Take you on a Cruise" and encore treat "Specialist." What made the night a little uncomfortable was the rush of a couple of crazed fans, attacking Banks right in the middle of a couple of songs, once during "Specialist" and then during "PDA." Banks handled the situation with much grace, mumbling his surprise to the audience among awkward air; it was hard not to laugh about the whole thing. The stage techs came to Banks' aid as if he were some delicate diva, to see if he was okay. Other than the couple of runaway fans, the night turned out to be an array of delight as Interpol showed their obtained maturity as stage performers, delievering a tight set of their tunes and giving the crowd precisely what they ordered.

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