Orange County gets treated as the place you drive through on the way to somewhere with a better story. The people who actually live there have a whole nightlife the rest of Southern California never bothers to learn about, and they are not especially interested in explaining it to you.
Marlon Flohr and Ralph van Hilst have been making festival-sized records for well over a decade, the kind engineered to be heard across an open field by forty thousand people. Putting that in a room of a few hundred is a specific pleasure — the same track that reads as spectacle outdoors becomes something physical indoors, closer to being inside the speaker than in front of it. Costa Mesa gets the compressed version.
Ten at night until half past one, Saturday the twenty-sixth, on Newport Boulevard.
Orange County gets treated as the place you drive through on the way to somewhere with a better story. The people who actually live there have a whole nightlife the rest of Southern California never bothers to learn about, and they are not especially interested in explaining it to you.
Marlon Flohr and Ralph van Hilst have been making festival-sized records for well over a decade, the kind engineered to be heard across an open field by forty thousand people. Putting that in a room of a few hundred is a specific pleasure — the same track that reads as spectacle outdoors becomes something physical indoors, closer to being inside the speaker than in front of it. Costa Mesa gets the compressed version.
Ten at night until half past one, Saturday the twenty-sixth, on Newport Boulevard.
Orange County gets treated as the place you drive through on the way to somewhere with a better story. The people who actually live there have a whole nightlife the rest of Southern California never bothers to learn about, and they are not especially interested in explaining it to you.
Marlon Flohr and Ralph van Hilst have been making festival-sized records for well over a decade, the kind engineered to be heard across an open field by forty thousand people. Putting that in a room of a few hundred is a specific pleasure — the same track that reads as spectacle outdoors becomes something physical indoors, closer to being inside the speaker than in front of it. Costa Mesa gets the compressed version.
Ten at night until half past one, Saturday the twenty-sixth, on Newport Boulevard.