Tearing Me Up with Bob Moses

It's Friday night and I have these two concert tickets to Bob Moses. I asked a few friends to join and it was already Friday night so understandably they all had plans.

Bob Moses sound brings emotion and depth to the dance floor which has lately been filled with soulless machine made music. Their songs harken back to before the term EDM (electronic dance music) existed. They have the heart of old house music and have evolved the genre. Being studied musicians who tirelessly hone their craft they are constantly pushing the genre forward in a positive way. I have been listening on repeat since discovering Bob Moses.

Do I want to go to this concert alone? 

Or would seeing this particular band drape my whole body in big, heavy, heartache? You see, the man who introduced me to Bob Moses subsequently broke my heart. We had this great summer and suddenly one day it was all over. It was over for him anyway...old concert hall built in 1924 that sits proudly in Korea town and in the shadows of DTLA. My first stop is a bar downstairs.

Sipping my double Hendricks and tonic I take a look around. 

There are so many beautiful women coming out of the powder room. Red lipstick, tight black dresses, flowing 70s dresses, hippie chic, rock girl models. 

They are the tall, thin women at most early 20s in ripped jeans and vintage Guns N Roses tees cut up so tiny the band's logo is the only material left. They sashay like on a runway with the same expression, eyes fixed squarely and above where anyone can meet their gaze. 

A lot of the women were so sexy, they walked using their hips. It has to be impossible to fit any guts inside those tiny hips and bones. 

The familiar dark sweet sound of the first song booms through the theater. Time to get in there. 

My seat is in the upstairs level. It is so dark, it is something like general admission so I put on my assuredness and walk directly to an empty seat in the front row of the mezzanine.

Perfect view of the band. Immediately I understand the high ratio of women. I am in love with all of them. 

The man on keys and other machines of which I am unfamiliar has a mop of blonde hair and moves like a Keith Haring painting come to life. He is the embodiment of music and I can see every boom, every baseline coming through his body. He is rad.

On the right is the guitar player and singer. Tall, dark hair, hangs in the shadows. Sometimes he channels a bit of Chris Martin's voice, a lot of the time he sounds like singer from Dirty Vegas. They are the electronic band who got famous for being in a Mitsubishi commercial back in 2002.

The whole sound is anchored in the drama of the drummer who pounds on like a locomotive adding drama and delight tying the whole show together. Live music, mixed together like a DJ set. My mouth agape in happiness at every transition.

The two girls dancing next to me are sweet but not the type to share my thoughts with. And I have to share my thoughts with a person! So I text the man. Is it ever a good idea? No. He did not come running. 

I left the show on a music high with a brand new appreciation for Bob Moses. Then when I got into my car and was really alone. Pulling onto the 10 freeway is why I cried. Sometimes a good cry can be cathartic and it can put a period on the last sentence of a chapter in your life. It was only a chapter. 

Today I am playing Bob Moses on vinyl that I bought at the show. It is loud and delicious and I feel happy. 

Allyson Marino