Let it not go unsaid that I fucking love Harvey Milk. I’ve become enamored of them somewhat late in life, because I was not even ten years old when the band originally formed, and was a freshman in high school when they went on hiatus in 1998. Whatever, I guess at the age of 15 I was still too young to devote my life to the world of experimental rock music. But man, once 2006 came around, my subscription to the Aquarius Records e-mail list would not let me go more than two weeks without hearing about Harvey Milk re-issues. I slowly started making my way through their discography. It wasn’t until I heard Courtesy And Good Will Toward Men in 2007 that it all suddenly clicked: Harvey Milk were a fucking behemoth, and there was no denying their supremacy. When I learned they would be performing last night at Relax Bar, I was both elated and nervous. Elated because the band’s touring has been sporadic of late, and nervous because Relax Bar is the worst venue I’ve been to in LA. When I saw Wolves In The Throne Room there I had to sit through six unbearable bands before I saw a halfway descent set (Laser Swords Of Death), and the place was swampy, gross, and had terrible sound. I’d endure it for Harvey Milk.

As I was driving home from dinner last night I got a phone call informing me that the show had been moved to a loft downtown. After a brief stop at home, I made my way to the address I was given, met up with some kids I knew vestigially through this here Internet, and quietly wondered how many people would show up to see the band. I bumped into a customer that I recognized from the store, and we talked for a few minutes about record collecting, my co-workers and the band. At midnight people began inching towards the stage.

Creston stood at the microphone and said he felt it was his duty to inform us about what transpired earlier in the evening, and why they chose to play here. He said he was afraid nobody would show up to see them, but he was impressed and flattered by the crowd that made it to the loft. He promised they would pay until they were too drunk or too tired to go on, thanked everyone for being amazing supporters, and without hesitation, the band launched into what would amount to one of the best and most intense live performances I’ve seen in years. The double vocal attack of Creston and Joe Preston added weight to some of the older numbers. The guitars sounded beautiful and murky, the drums perfect, slow and lumbering. Someone said it sounded like a freight train. So majestic and beautiful and codeine-slow. Sure it was a sweaty apartment with no semblance of air-conditioning (bassist Steven Tanner played the entire set in a pair of gnarly cut-offs), but I like to think the four dudes on stage were responsible for sucking all the oxygen out of the room. It was fucking epic. I don’t think anyone in that room was ready for it to end, even as the band neared the end of their almost 90-minute performance.

Noteworthy songs included “Lay My Head Down” from The Pleaser, “Death Goes To The Winner” from Life…The Best Game In Town, and “The Anvil Will Fall” from My Love Is Higher Than Your Assessment of What My Love Could Be.

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