Saturday night, I went to The El Rey in Los Angeles to see Jemina Pearl, No Bunny, and The Black Lips; despite the fact that the bill made complete sense, this show felt like three distinct events. Each of these bands makes their living portraying themselves as bad kids who aren’t really that threatening, which is really what just about every teenager spends their time doing. There’s no point being so bad ass that everyone is afraid to be around you; all successful and loved cool kids understand the difference between being a lovable rascal and a villain.
It may surprise you, but out of a pack of scuzzy boys toeing the line here, Jemina Pearl was probably the best at playing that role. It’s hard to see The Black Lips and No Bunny telling a crowd it sucks, but the former Be Your Own Pet frontwoman seems perfectly content to, “burn every bridge down on [her] way out of town” and “wave goodbye with a middle finger.” It’s not to say that she comes to a show with a predetermined attitude; she’s just more willing than most to engage with her audience in any way, including antagonistically. That’s what makes her so interesting to me. She’s an explosive performer, virtually incapable of ignoring the audience. For all the punk egalitarianism that’s represented by sharing the stage, bands typically treat those individuals as obstacles to play through. Pearl seems more interested in response than anything else, and on nights like this, when she doesn’t get it, she’s not afraid to give you hers. “Who here’s looking for trouble? No? Well maybe I’ll give you some of mine.”
No Bunny was up next, dressing conservatively in a pair of red briefs. He easily outplayed every other performance of his I’ve seen due, in part I’m sure, to the fact that this was far and away the largest audience I’ve seen him in front of. No Bunny is the type of act that benefits from the stupidity masses bring. By donning his bunny mask and wig, he has taken himself completely out of the equation and turned himself into the ultimate party cheerleader. He’s probably the best dancer since Chris Chris (winner of LVHRD’s first DNCHRD competition), and it’s pretty much impossible to resist throwing in with him the way some of his call and responses are designed. Everyone seemed to be having a good time, but the bros probably didn’t quite know what to make of it and held back. Oh yeah, there were bros. If I’m going to stick to high school clichés, then No Bunny would be more of your enthusiastic goof, whereas The Black Lips are easily the coolest kids in southern-tinged-garage-throwback school. At this point, I guess their reputation precedes them, and when you hear that a band has had to sneak out the bedroom window of an entire country (India), you expect to get rowdy.
I was vaguely aware of guitarist Alexander Cole playing with his teeth and jumping off the drum set, but I was far more engrossed in the power struggle playing out in the crowd as bros, fashion victims, and regular people collided. Things actually calmed down after a tiny girl decked one of the burlier guys in the face. The resulting armistice left me free to actually watch the set and remember just how much filler The Black Lips have produced over the years and how long they’ve been touring. The Lips are fifth-year seniors, and they’ve got copies of all the old assignments. Question 1A: play guitar behind your head. No one else seemed to notice, and cups continued to fly all night, but the sense that I was watching a band who had it all figured out grew and grew until Ian St. Pe, a guy who probably hasn’t worried what his parents thought for a decade, happily reminded the crowd, “It’s Saturday night and our parents are back in Georgia.” There are far worse things than being good at your trade but when it comes to compelling figures I’ll take someone with a little left to learn every time.
