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On September 25th, an eclectic crowd gathered at The Mayan in downtown Los Angeles for the final show of the Hives/ Eagles of Death Metal/Willowz tour. From scenesters and seasoned followers of local indie faves the Willowz, to the savvy black and white clad Hives devotees, everyone in attendance was poised for a night of musical magnificence.
Among these contrasting fan-bases was a smattering of tattooed greasers and leather clad vixens, huddled in select groups throughout the venue. They casually sipped on cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon, occassionally stopping to take a drag off of their cigarettes. It was obvious that these seasoned rockers were anticipating a different vibe than that of their alt-indie and garage pop bretheren. Plain and simple, these folks were here to rock 'n' roll. And rock 'n' roll they would, to the hip shakin', boot scootin' boogie woogie sound of the fast-paced desert rock band, Eagles of Death Metal.
It was just after 9pm; the Willowz had already finished warming up the eager audience, as more and more folks started making their way towards the stage, anticipating the next act. The house lights dimmed, and instantaneously an explosive cheer erupted from the mouths of young and old alike. The moment everyone had been waiting for (whether they knew it or not) had arrived.
Guitarist "Darlin' Dave" Catching appeared first, appreciatively nodding to the ladies gathered at stage right, as bass-player Brian "Big Hands" O'Connor moved towards the crowd huddled at stage left. As the stage lights flashed on, eager EODM fans' were surprised to see not only Joey "The Sexi Mexi" Castillo sitting at the drums, but that directly parallel to him, perched above his own set of skins, was none other than Queens of the Stone Age frontman, Josh "Baby Duck" Homme.
Suddenly, the masses exploded into a fit of cheers a second time. Frontman Jesse "Boots Electric" Hughes sauntered on stage in all his devilish glory, extending his left arm towards the crowd, his fingers tightly clenched together in the undisputed rock 'n' roll statement of the century: the devil horns. There were no two-ways about it. The Eagles of Death Metal had landed.After "Boots Electric" (ak/a J. Devil) himself finished adjusting the familiar lightning bolt strap of his solid white Gibson Les Paul guitar, the band immediately launched into "Don't Speak (I Came to Make a Bang!)" from 2006's Death By Sexy.
Teeny boppers, biker punks, indie hipsters, and rockabilly riders were all overcome by the same wave of thrashy, trashy and fun-filled rock 'n' roll that bounced over everyone in the audience. Young and old were joined together like toe tapping, hip shakin' dance demons. It was impossible to keep still as the face-paced gritty garage rock swept through the halls. Playing tunes from each of their three studio released albums (including the upcoming "Heart On" out on October 28th), the band seemed to mainly focus on tracks from their 2004 debut "Peace, Love, Death Metal" while introducing the crowd to new songs like the deliciously debauched "Anything 'Cept the Truth" and forthcoming "Heart On" single "Wannabe in LA."
J. Devil lived up to his "Boots Electric" moniker, boot scootin' and hippy, hippy shakin' his way up, down, on and off the stage, pausing only to express his undying affection to "all the lovely ladies" in the audience. The feeling was mutual; halfway through their set, an anonymous pair of navy blue panties were flung on stage. "The Devil" quickly nabbed them, presumably adding them to his growing collection.
The crowd continued dancing hard throughout the rest of their cherry cola flavored set, giving shouts of adoration for "the dream boys," and, of course, throwing up their own devil horns. As the band collectively burst into the catchy riffs and buzzing hooks of their final song, the fast-paced "Speaking in Tongues," the boogie woogie moving and grooving intensified. After the final notes were played, the band collectively stood together to take a final bow. A simple "thank you" and "goodnight!" was uttered as they exited the stage. The roar of the audience continued to echo throughout the Mayan as the stage lights were dimmed.
Some stayed to watch headliners the Hives; others left after having had a sensory overload of watching the musical embodiment of sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll, known unforgettably as the Eagles of Death Metal.
The dance party of the century (well, at least the night) had come to a close. Regardless, one thing was certain: the dream boys were here and they made us smile.
