Louis XIV reasserted their claim to the indie sleaze crown at Lodge Room reunion set
Like their regal namesake, San Diego’s Louis XIV cultivated an air of mythic notoriety during their reign in the first decade of the millennium, fueled by boundary pushing imagery that defied the pearl-clutching sensibilities of the status quo and a complete lyrical immersion into the online underground alternative of the era, all wrapped up in a psychedelic gutter-glam sound so filthy it would have made Marc Bolan’s toes curl with glee. As the unquestionably sleaziest standard-bearers of an era that would come to be revered as “indie sleaze,” Louis XIV cultivated a dedicated following, one that came out in droves to witness the band’s latest, limited series of reunion dates nearly 20 years after hanging up their crown.
Mystic Knights opened the evening with a raucous set of big, sweaty, 4-on-the-floor rock n roll that represented a uniquely aughts head-on collision of indie rakishness and disco-ready danceable grooves. The band’s JET-set pedigree was in full effect, as the Knights ably demonstrated their uncanny knack for delivering a non-stop cavalcade of irresistible, unambiguous crowd-pleasers about hard partying, New York nights, and return trips to rehab. From gassed-up original material to a pitch-perfect Kasabian cover, Mystic Knights proved they’ve got what it takes to get the crowd primed and the party started for a wild main event.
Stream Mystic Knights on Spotify and follow the band on Instagram.
“I know, I haven’t aged a bit. Neither have you!” winked Mr. Jason Hill as the opening notes of “New Murder At The Old Chateau” drifted from the PA, setting the mood for an evening of cheeky misbehavior the likes of which haven’t been performed in Los Angeles for far too long.
Louis XIV is something of a curiosity in the post-woke era, a sleazy survivor of another age when PBR-fueled promiscuous debauchery was de rigueur, and the consequences for unchecked shenanigans were a just a hungover walk of shame at worst. Notoriously roasted by critics including a legendarily bone-headed Pitchfork review and dubiously labeled by NME as “music to flunk rehab to,” Louis XIV’s breakthrough sophomore LP The Best Little Secrets Are Kept stirred up controversy all the way from the cover art to the lyrical content. But the album’s complete submersion into playful early internet naughtiness, Suicide Girls adjacent subculture, and unfettered commitment to a charmingly louche brand of foppish bravado ultimately earned endorsements from Rolling Stone, Josh Homme, and even Ziggy Stardust himself, with Bowie extolling the virtues of the band in numerous high-profile interviews, indicating that these modern musketeers were much more than just surface-level schtick.
The years quickly melted away as the band launched into their set, a career-spanning celebration packed with self-aware sass and technical proficiency that reinforced the band’s bonafides with aplomb. Hill and Brian Karscig’s chemistry remained impeccably potent through call-and-response verses and dueling guitar pyrotechnics, augmented by a pummeling rhythm section with percussion unleashed by O.G. Mark Maigaard and Jake Pinto’s monumental low end. Hits and deep cuts alike came alive with fleshed out solos and expanded instrumentation like a luxurious Bourbon Era tapestry by way of a MySpace digicam photo collage, a fine showcase of Louis XIV’s divine right to occupy the indie sleaze throne. The band’s brand new single, “Statues,” found it’s place neatly within the classic catalog, sidestepping the one-track carnal fixation of The Best Little Secrets Are Kept and the bleak party monster nihilism of Slick Dogs And Ponies to update the baroque early foundations of their sound with an apocalyptic thunderstorm of indie-comedown hedonism in the face of total obliteration.
In the space between the band’s original hiatus and their brief runs of occasional reunion shows both Hill and Karscig have independently contributed their talents to new bands and legacy acts including The Killers and New York Dolls, as well as accumulating accolades for production and scoring for the big and small screens. Louis XIV is a collection of truly skilled professional musicians, and their impressive chops are the driving force behind their enduring appeal, elevating the intentionally low-brow subject matter with high-brow compositions that the band allows to run free on stage like a pack of wild mustangs. Even the horned-up lyrics have aged surprisingly well in today’s more enlightened age, imbued with an element of escapism to a time before the darker fringes of the internet burned away our collective mischievous innocence, ultimately stemming from a celebration of consensual sexual liberation and artistic self-expression enabled by youthful experimentation and egalitarian access to an uncharted digital frontier.
As the lights came up after the encore it was obvious the band had as much fun with this brief dalliance on stage as the crowd did on the floor. Here’s to hoping the boys make their way back around real soon.
Stream Louis XIV on Spotify and follow the band on Instagram.
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