About five years ago I was walking around east london and decided to go through Spitalfields Market as a short cut. To my surprised, there was, right there, in a weekday with no other audience but passing buys a live performance of a band that in my teens was one of the first I came across that was not the mainstream pop shit the you hear in the radio. The Cranes, became to me a little bit of a symbol of when I started to want to hang out with boys, go to gigs and be 'indi'. Ten years after, they looked a little less glamorous, rather tired after what I translate as many years of heavy drinking and drug taking. Still I stood there, with my grocery shopping and thought it was magical.
There is something very poetic on accidentally finding this things that are so far from the celebrity culture, just on the street, for free, with no previous advertisement done, even or specially with the lack of big professional sound systems. The reminder of the first hand undigested aesthetic experience. Wasn't this the purpose of art? When did we reduce it to a bourgeoisie battle of throwing out artist's names, dtaes and isms in discussions with people with perfect haircuts?
Local Natives | Who Knows Who Cares | A Take Away Show from La Blogotheque on Vimeo.
I'm so jealous of that girl whom obviously has no idea who this guys are and yet is just completely innocently touch by this.
Found at Booooooom.