- Jaime Monzon
- Cold Cave
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.
- Drab Majesty
After a brief interim in the Paper Tiger courtyard, which was steadily turning into goth ground zero, Cold Cave took to the stage to deliver cascading icicles of dark-wave pop jams. Their singer, Wesley Eisold, entranced the crowd, with audience members freaking out and screaming between songs like he was a legit pop star. One fan even snuck behind the band, got on stage and started dancing with them before getting a security escort.
The trio whisked us through an hour and a half vapor trail of synth pop sounds and new wave crooning, which reminded me how the 80s are indeed back, just gother, darker and cooler than ever.