- Billed as the debut event for Droog and Harmonic Productions' fall and winter parties, the Culprit & Hear show also introduced a new venue to the Los Angeles underground, a creature of constant movement and mutation that is forever trying to stay one crawl ahead of the curve.
Many shows in LA, even smaller underground parties, have an epic impersonal feel and the anonymous aggression that goes with it, or at the very least a slimy veneer of apathy. They have no soul. This was not the case with Culprit & Hear, whose vibe was more like that of a house party with friends old and new, intimate and bubbling out happy energy like warm light radiating from golden windows. You could immediately feel the heart behind this party.
Photo credit: Chris Soltis
Arriving and parking on the quiet side street next to "Temporary Spaces 2" or TS2, the cheerful house beats were massaging the night with a smile. "STOMPIN HOUSE" was the text that went out to friends wondering what kind of music was being played. Like a small café or restaurant whose heyday has long since passed, the outside of the venue was nondescript, with a short staircase leading past the smokers into the building.
The groove was underway and it was obvious that the dance floor had been getting worked well for several hours, and channels of joyous energy whirled around the room. Several cabinets of speakers had no trouble filling the space with well-rounded sound, and with room to dance and spin, it was a welcome change from the jam-packed dance floors of Hollywood that allow only one move: the squirm and push. TS2 had a bit of a romper-room feel to it with striped, paneled walls but the space seemed to mesh well with the crowd who was comfortable and there to have fun. The energy was concentrated to the single stage, with only the bar to draw partygoers away.
Photo credit: Chris Soltis
Anthony Collins was behind the bouncy, booty-moving beats that had echoed into the night and his crowd was all smiles: the dance floor loved him. Deep, centered beats flung out of the speakers, run through with soulful precision and highly emotive. While something is to be said for music that makes you think wider, or cry buckets, or contemplate eternity, happy-making house music might just be the prescription needed right now for the world's disease. On Collins' dance floor there were no worries, only bodies twisted up in celebration, hands clapping in the air and a hoot of joy here and there.
Soon the DJs switched over and Sammy Dee came on with a lighter and twitchier feel, not quite as penetrating and a bit more cerebral with less booty bounce. The closed bar and waning hours were starting to take their toll on the thickness of the dance floor, but the partygoers who remained didn't seem to notice. Sammy Dee continued to work the beats like clay and his impeccable mixing deserved crisper brains than those of the late-night crowd.