- Early on Saturday morning, a man with bushy white hair sauntered over to the table where I was sitting and shook his head in a genial manner, taking away my near-empty can of Modelo. It was nearing 2 AM, which, in a normal Los Angeles club, would usually mean being barked at by a security guard if you were holding an alcoholic drink. But things felt different down here in this sprawling Mid-City nightclub, whose decor looked like it had last been updated in 1986. The man enforcing the alcohol curfew was Lazaro and I was at his Latin Lounge.
Much of Resident Advisor's coverage on LA touches on the interplay between the city's underground and club scenes. Put simply, crowds in LA often show up after 12 AM, which makes it difficult for promoters to make a nut before the bar shuts down two hours later, forcing some promoters underground for a more techno-friendly timetable. But those with a deeper understanding of the city know that the neighborhoods south of the 10 freeway—majority black and Latino areas—are dotted with historic clubs. If a 4 AM curfew went through, these venues could experience a renaissance. Friday's party, Making Time with Ben UFO, gave us a glimpse of what that might look like.
So how did Making Time land a venue that no raver has ever been to? (It should be said: the club is regularly packed for cumbia nights.) Dave Pianka, who originally set up the party, moved out to LA to help run FYF Festival's dance program. After FYF's cofounder, Sean Carlson, was engulfed in a sexual harassment scandal, Pianka, FYF cofounder Dave Peterson and Emily Twombly distanced themselves from the organisation, striking out on their own as This Is Who We Are Now. Friday night was their first event, but their experience running a large-scale festival—not to mention Pianka's track record in Philadelphia and New York—means their ties run deep. A well-connected friend introduced Peterson to Lazaro, whose venue they'll use regularly in the coming months.
Walking into Lazaro's, a tall building with a large "DANCING" sign printed on its side, felt like going back in time. The main room has a burnished wooden dance floor with roller rink-style lights squiggling across the ceilings. Rising DJ Mozghan, who throws the We Are Monsters party in San Francisco, played to the first couple of dancers, warming it up with the chugging, psychedelic sound that's earning her far-flung bookings. She played time-tested cuts by Kuniyuki ("Shout") alongside far-out new tracks like Odopt's "Croque Trans Croque."
By the time Janson stepped up, a young, stoked crowd had filled the compact floor. Festival-style lighting shot through the space, which, frankly, felt like too much on top of the club's existing neon aesthetic. The kids, though, flailed with abandon. These days, Janson is as comfortable playing big festival stages as small rooms, but on Friday, he was in warehouse mode, wrapping up a set heavy on euphoric pianos and Italo -and new wave-inflected cuts with belters like Special Request's "Brainstorm." When Ben UFO stepped up, the floor was still heaving. He began boldly, dropping a tune consisting of bass pressure, a wisp of a synth line and little else. From there, he expertly charted a course from where Janson left him to well above 130 BPM, via tunes like Joe's "Tail Lift" and Mainline's "Feelings." His audience was a mix of early-to-mid-'20s dance fans and the odd industry type, all of whom were taking in the novel setting as much as the music. On the outskirts, the mostly Latino staff looked on with perplexed amusement.
Photo credit /
Zane Roessell