What it was like
Some weeks wear your edges all the way down, and the only real cure is a room where the lights go kaleidoscope, the reverb swallows everything, and for a while you get to be nobody in particular.
Temples build songs like slow sunrises — jangling, glittering, hypnotic, arranged so you stop tracking where one ends. English psych-pop done properly is less a genre than a small act of disappearing, and it does not work from the back of an arena. It works in a two-hundred-capacity room where the stage is close enough to touch and there is nowhere to hide from how good it sounds.
The Casbah is that room, on Kettner, and it has been that room for as long as anyone in San Diego has cared about guitars. Poppy Jean Crawford opens.
Small room, big sound, the kind of show people are still bringing up a year later. Bring whoever needs to disappear with you.