by Chris Conde
Black eyeliner: check. Black lipstick: check. Overwhelming sense of dread/nihilism: check?
Awaiting wristbands outside Paper Tiger, I could hear the brooding echoey synths of L.A.’s Drab Majesty echoing off the walls inside. “I’m already crying” I told a friend, excited for the night of exaggerated, dramatic synth-goth music — like Drab Majesty.
Naturally, as I made my way inside the sad kid dance party, I entered a sea of black leather jackets, like a Lost Boys casting call. Up on stage, Drab Majesty wore mime-looking makeup, long coats and sci-fi sleek sunglasses, playing through a long set of shoe-gazy vapor wave. I tell my friend it feels like spinning through a crystal castle as we dance and twirl to the icy cold blast of synths and thick, reverberating guitar.