Native Sun rising: New York's own shook the very foundations of heaven at Moroccan Lounge
Photographs by Alyson Camus
Tucked into an otherwise non-descript location on the northern fringes of LA’s Arts District is the Moroccan Lounge, a beige stucco edifice minimally adorned to recall the distinct architectural styles and intrinsic mysticism of the North African nation from which it takes its name. A Mecca of sorts for alternative music, the Moroccan Lounge welcomed into its hallowed intimacy New York’s own Native Sun for a performance of incendiary furiousness that shook the very foundations of heaven.
Keeping the bar warm throughout the evening, White Reaper’s Sam Wilkerson laid down a classy mix of power-pop jams from The Replacements to Nick Lowe and everywhere in between that went down with the easiness of a fresh pint. A contrasting soundtrack but perfect companion to the energetically stacked bill, affording a moment of pause before and between sets to bask in the comfortable environs of the Moroccan's lounge.
The opening set came from Malarchy, an up-and-coming act that builds their sound on a rough and ready combination of trahscan percussion and downtuned guitar, accented with an undercurrent of electronic noise and urban soundscape samples that pulse from the shabby clamshell of a weathered MacBook. Youthful and punky, with the kind of devil-may-care attitude borne from the green flexibility of innocence, Malarchy’s big, emotive neo-beat poetry tumbles through the whirling blades of a nü-metal garbage disposal set on high, gleefully pulverizing preconceptions with reckless abandon. There are moments when the young band hit their stride and offered glimpses of something truly special, albeit unrefined; uncut gems tumbling towards eventual polish in the perpetual mosh of a teenage riot.
Occupying the middle slot with a contrasting coolness to the preceding performance, Monterey Park shoegazers Wayword took a multifaceted approach to the wooly dissonance that characterizes the well-worn pathways of the style. Devoid of the theatrical trappings that willfully obfuscate stereotypical shoegaze exhibitions, Wayword’s triple-guitar attack was possessed of a remarkable clarity that elevated the band’s colossal melodies and punishing rhythms to stratospheric heights as each of the players remained grounded in a steady stoicism like human pillars upon which their cathedral of sound was built. Deeper in the set Wayword introduced a wider range of influences to their sound, oscillating from the shoegaze center point to incorporate interesting, almost yacht rock-esque flourishes, like Mac Demarco on a slow dive into a mezcal head explosion while the high-energy closers consisted of a one-two punch of beer-soaked indie rock that showcased the band’s latent versatility.
As the clock ticked closer to midnight, the atmosphere of the Moroccan began to buzz with the burgeoning anticipation that comes before the breaking of a new dawn. A gloaming in reverse that trades the stillness of night for bursting vitality as resplendent rays break along the horizon, igniting the world in golden fire. Like Rohirrim riders astride frothing steeds of war, Native Sun descended upon the crowd with a thunderous crash of electric cacophony, their shock-and-awe tactics offering no quarter in the face of overwhelming sonic fury.
Native Sun’s massive, rolling momentum taps directly into the very soul of New York’s dangerous rock n roll heritage, fueling the band’s full-bore auditory assault with an unhinged hedonistic quality while maintaining an air of untouchably cool artistry. While inherent to New York, this approach feels like a novelty in LA where even the hardest acts gleam with the high-polish shine of chrome fenders on an immaculately restored classic muscle car. Native Sun’s engine revs with just as much ferocity as their show-and-shine brethren, but there’s a chipped and bubbling patina of Big Apple authenticity that gives Native Sun a unique presence when rolling along the palm lined boulevards that doesn’t fail to captivate.
As their set reached its thrilling conclusion, Native Sun departed the stage with an explosion of feral energy that threatened to incinerate the very atmosphere of the room, ending the maximum velocity, all-caps performance with a triple exclamation point - a declaration of intent seared into the eyes and ears of an audience willingly surrendered to a new dawn of rock n roll.
Native Sun will be showcased at SXSW in March. Follow the band on Instagram for details. Follow Malarchy and Wayword on Instagram.