Mansions on the Moon w/ Flashlights

I've been aching to see a live show. It was a little heartbreaking to hear that my local dive, Unit 11, was closing about two weeks after I arrived in Aspen. Being a pretty small town, I was glad to hear that there was a coveted gig venue by the Roaring Fork Transportation Authority junction called Belly Up, and that it was frequented by bands big and small. For instance, The Flaming Lips played a sold out show there a few weeks ago, and while I would have loved to go, the $165+ tickets were a little excessive.

I was in luck before too long though, as  indie-electro rockers Mansions on the Moon came to town, and they were supported by the two-piece Flashlights. Flashlights were a little lost on the stage, and I can't blame them - a DJ and a skinny singer hardly scream stage presence. It's a pity they couldn't fill out a little more, because they were good, and the kind of band that would thrive on sizable, tumbling crowd.

After a the conclusion of their slightly self-conscious set, Mansions on the Moon buzzed the Belly Up stage, firing through a tight and energetic set. Initially expecting them to be a fairly quiet, introspective group, they blasted deep synth loops over a fat, low guitar-driven sound. They immediately filled all those empty spaces Flashlights couldn't with an atmospheric resonance that hummed and smoked with rattling vibrations. Floating seamlessly through Indie, Electro, Drum and Bass, and Dance, the band encored and ended with a ditty of a song in which they invited a girl from LA to sing with them. It was a subtle flourish on an impressive set, and one that solidified my bemused pleasure at getting my American gig-hopping going.

Flashlights










Mansions on the Moon

Family Dinner

I now live in an apartment above a pizza shop. Leaving the house I've been staying in for the past month with good blood and bad credit, I found a new place to leave my clothes on the floor and store my snowboard. Residing mere feet away from the village pizza place requires a feat of restraint on my part comparable to that embodied by the Lone Man in Jim Jarmusch's Limits of Control, where the stoic, suited man is dogged persistently for intimacy by The Nude, and his declinations never waver in their resolution. Anyway, Sunday is Family Dinner day in 4306, and I was happy to find out that this week we had a guest cook. He's a restauranteur of some sort, and despite having a low alcohol threshold, he made us a fantastic meal.