While we were admittedly disappointed with the rampant, liberal use of vowels below, we are nonetheless pleased to bring you Erin’s recap of two recent MSTRKRFT gigs in Los Angeles.

Friday night at the Fonda [Feb 29] looked like some kind of cotillion after party gone terribly awry. Packs of pre-pubescent boys roamed the roof deck looking for floaters, girls in Cobrasnake-approved leggings and Wayfarers staged their own photoshoots, public makeout sessions abounded, and everywhere you turned, some poor overdosed soul was slumped on the floor, hanging over a railing, or just sitting in a chair, vomiting.

However, no number of underage hooligans could dim the flame of my excitement. Since the day Josh Homme led me to DFA 1979, which in turn led me to MSTRKRFT, I have been smitten. Their set at Coachella last year was my personal Sahara tent highlight. I like to dance, I like to sweat, I like to be surrounded by other people who are dancing and sweating. I do not like to be surrounded by people clearly having a bad Ecstacy experience, but some things can’t be helped.

The MSTRKRFT set was what I expected: loud, fast, fun. I recognized a few songs from The Looks (“Easy Love,” “Paris,” “Neon Nights”); most of their set seemed to be new material, which gives me hope that a second album is approaching. They went on close to midnight, and played til after 1. A sidewalk interview with a street meat patron sporting braces verified my suspicions that a large number of the crowd was around the age of 13.

Opening acts, in brief:
LA Riots: Fun. Minimal sampling, not as techno as Boys Noize, not as bass-heavy as Justice.
Z Trip: Uninspired scratching over college bar favorites like ACDC and Guns N Roses. I spent most of his set on the roof deck, observing antics of the aforementioned young people.

NIGHT TWO: El Rey [2 March 2008]
Something about night one was strangely unsatisfying, so I showed up to the El Rey at 11 pm on Sunday to make good. Thankfully, JFK and ALP were already on stage. The scene was similar: same posse of dudes on stage too busy taking pictures of themselves to dance, same dance-happy crowd, some with glow sticks and pacifiers, and same menacing hockey mask backdrop. The large swarms of very young people too blackout to have fun were missing, however, which made for a much more music-centric evening. I drank my $6 Bud Light (size small, from tap), bopped around, inhaled some second-hand smoke, and had a great time.