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Why do I keep thinking about “Midnight Train To Georgia”? I
used to live around the corner from the El Rey, an Art Deco gem in the
historic Miracle Mile District of Los Angeles. It was weird being back
there but once back inside the Burma Tour Bubble things were back to normal.
We stayed poolside at the Hollywood Roosevelt which was quite nice for
a post soundcheck dip. Lots of familiar faces, perhaps the most we have
seen anywhere outside of Boston. The El Rey audience was treated to possibly
the most accomplished Inexplicable performance to date. The band was energized
by Mike Watt’s opening set and never looked back from the opening
“Play Land.” The audience was a little younger than SF but still
brought a bit of somnambulance to what was a riveting gig. Highlights
were “Forget” which they will hopefully not forget to play in
the future, new songs “The Enthusaist” and “The Setup”
and a searing encore of “1970” which featured Mike Watt fronting
the band. Great to see everyone and looking forward to the next round.
mk
L.A. WEEKLY REVIEW
Here are my impressions of the Mission of Burma show in L.A. A slightly
condensed version of this review also appears in the current L.A.
WEEKLY newspaper at Mission of Burma at El Rey Theater, Los Angeles,
July 27. It only seemed like every Beantown exile in the Southland showed
up for Mission of Burma's reunion last week, turning out in the proportions
of a Red Sox visit to Anaheim. Most of the locals were undoubtedly seeing
the post-punk trio live for the first time, save for a lucky few prescient
enough to have caught the Florentine Gardens and O.N. Club appearances
during MOB's only previous visit to L.A. in 1981. "You guys are a
lot nicer to us than your parents were," drummer Peter Prescott dryly
commented. (It's funny what breaking up, and having R.E.M. and Moby water
down versions of your old classics, can do for your status as a living
legend.) For every member of the early '80s Boston rock aristocracy spotted
in the smoke-machine-induced gloom -- people like former Poison Penn editrix
Debbi Shane, W.A.C.O./the Wild Stares' Steve Gregoropoulos and Weekly
contributor Johnny Angel -- there were an equal number of shell-shocked
Angeleno first-timers wandering around afterward, mumbling things like
"the best show of the year" and "I can't believe I lived
long enough to see this."
And who can blame them? From the opening salvo of "Playland,"
"Fame and Fortune" and the mesmerizing incantation "This
Is Not a Photograph" to the second encore of the second (!) set,
MOB unrelentingly pulverized all the old favorites and four thrilling
new tunes with an unsentimental, morbid efficiency. Former Volcano Sun
Bob Weston's tape loops twisted guitarist Roger Miller's already spacy
harmonic flicks and slide-guitar plunges, most memorably on the wiggly
electric-eel shivers on "Trem Two." Prescott pounded his drum
kit with arty tribal rhythms, behind a wall of clear plastic panels meant
to protect what's left of the hearing of the headphone-wearing, tinnitus-suffering
Miller. Bassist Clint Conley's yearning voice pierced the elemental, punk-rock
churn of "That's How I Escaped My Certain Fate" and "Academy
Fight Song," then turned somberly melodic during the famous opening
lines ("Once I had my heroes . . .") of the oft-covered "That's
When I Reach for My Revolver." "We only got back together so
we could play with Mike Watt," joked Miller, who namedropped the
ex-Minuteman in "Max Ernst," and invited Watt, the bill's opener,
onstage to sing the Stooges' "1970" during the first encore,
which included a rambunctious version of the Dils' "Class War."
For all that slam and fury, the most haunting moment came last on "Dead
Pool," with its circling refrain of dispossessed voices, asking "Where
did things go wrong?"
Long after the show ended, the voices were still there, trapped in our
heads like ghosts in the attic.
(Falling James)
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