Just two days shy of the debut of what is destined to jumpstart more buzz to eclipse even that of the buzzing in my ringing ears.  In fact I was even serenaded by Songs for the Deaf" by daring, desert darlings Queens of the Stone Age.  How fitting that this fiesta, the LA Weekly Detour Music Festival, takes place near my backyard in the dubious downtown LA.  This detour led me on the road to a melodic opus.  Reminiscing on my many adventures surviving this maddening mayhem, I look to my right recognizing the spot I was mugged, stepped in a pile of piss (urine in American), and was surrounded by a swarm of rats.  Than I try to remember what else I did this past tuesday.  I can go with the flow.

As I loiter freely attempting to weasel my way into VIP, I catch a glimpse into the future.  Just added to the destiny driven second stage was the spiky angst of the Foundation who sticks a furious bite into an eager crowd interpreting elements of Iron Maiden and Green Day.

Although getting heavy rotation on the glorified college station Indie 103 in LA, the Like showcased a maturity deepening in pleasant and sunny all girl harmonies.

Feeding off a frenzy of feisty fans, the flamboyant and foxy Of Montreal donned sensational sundresses and American presidential wigs during a decent performance making way for a promising mark in music's repertoire.  The best reception came during the erotic shirtless swagger of lead singer Kevin Barnes ala a gallivanting Mick Jagger.  Hey folks how about changing your names to Stones of the Queen Age?

The Blood Arm stole the whole dam show.  Going into this set it was impossible for me not to like this band, comprised of a Latin boy or two from East LA, my home.  The home of our savior Cesar Chavez in addition tothe likes of Los Lobos, Phil Spector, Vincent Price, the Breeders and Weezer.  While trying not to gush from ear to ear I sulked in bewilderment at the rush of adrenaline that poured out of LA's most hyped heroes since X.  Ripped lead singer Nathaniel Fregoso had more than his shirt ripped spiraling into the crowd on several occasions and even climbing atop the stage railings while never missing a beat.  This was the only band at the festival I recall to receive a celebrity introduction and that's the way I like it.  Ben Lee praised these funk fueled phenoms as LA's greatest treasure.  Charisma oozed through every sweat gland pouring the way the audience poured their heart out to these charming performers who save their White Stripes meets Moving Units and Franz Ferdinand epic "Suspicious Character" for the finale.  Dedicated to their fans loyalty.

After exhausting myself I was in need of medical attention by Redd Kross.  I jetted my way to see their intense performance and I have to say they made a believer out of me with their sonically stellar spectacle of energy.  Everyone from REM to Teenage Fanclub carries the spirit of what this band is all about.  Sitting across from where I always catch my bus was beyond surreal as I sit mesmerized by their sheer confidence that elevates them to LA's modern legacy.

Nobody stood a chance of outperforming the Basement Jaxx.  Everyone who took part in this electrifying performance was made to entertain including the climbing gorillas.  As proven time and time again with the likes of Aretha, Mama Cass, Queen Latifa, Missy Elliot, Jill Scott and the Gossip, big voices come in enormous packages so naturally the husky singers of this decorated dance duo live up to those divine legions of trailblazers.  Nobody stayed sitting once this cathartic experience exceeded.  Downtown looked like Studio 54 with an array of exhilaration run by the masters of "da underground."  "Romeo" from one of the most indispensable dance collections imaginable, "Remedy" was an immediate opener with thriving vocals and
bombastic beats.  This lead into the enormously popular commercial fave "Where's Your Head At?"  which turned the audience inside out which it's outrageous brutality.

After trying to compose myself from the Jaxx's exhausting set I caught wind of Mexican electronica inspired Nortec Collection who made the most of their computer exercises spurting out hip jiving bongo beats.

It was a sort of puppetry of the pop star when Beck came aboard.  With puppets in tact and silverware belting instrumentation Beck went out of his way to create a bizarre atmosphere with snippets of dubb and biker theatatrics while going into the audience dressed with helmet and leather jacket.  Seeing Beck live is like watching Picasso strum his brush through his latest masterpiece.  Expect the unknown and expect to be enlightened by Beck's creativity.  Opening with the slacker epic "Loser" and digging deep into older favorites as "Beercan," Beck brought along friends to rev the anxious audience.  This included puppeteers with a lifelike imitation of Beck and his guitar as well as glass and silverware players that are destined for dining dynasty in commercials for Denny’s.  After the only encore of the night Beck oozed brash confidence while wailing away on "Where It's At".  It was burst of sheer brillance.

And finally who better to close the dirty night sky that the mature metal mayhem of Queens of the Stone Age?  Ripping into desert delights as "Little Sister" their sophisticated style began to build momentum with menacing aggression that led to a full out slaughterhouse of rage that my ears are still recovering from.  It was a fond farewell to the beginning of downtown's reinvention. What a way to go!!!!!!!!!!

 -by Tim Estrada
 

Tim Estrada - UGM Staff Writer

is an intern in radio promotion hoping to one day walk in the footsteps of such oddball music personalities as Dr. Demento and Rodney Bingenheimer by bringing funloving poppy music to the states.