Fri, Oct 16
Stones Throw 30, Automatic, Los Retros
Owing a debt to a record label is embarrassing to explain to anyone who has not felt it, and some of us learned taste from a catalog number anyway. Peanut Butter Wolf started this one in 1996 after his partner Charizma was shot and killed, and the whole thirty-year run since has been a man refusing to let a good thing end quietly — which is why the roster wandered so far from rap and nobody minded. Tonight is the proof of that wandering: a synth-punk trio and a bedroom-soul project sharing a bill with the label's own founder in the building. The Highland Park room holds a few hundred people and has a balcony that fills first with the crowd who owns the vinyl. Watch for the merch table; label anniversaries are when the vault reissues surface and they never make it online. Music at 6:00 PM, upstairs at 104 N Avenue 56. Two more nights follow this one, and the people who come to all three tend to find each other by the second.
Owing a debt to a record label is embarrassing to explain to anyone who has not felt it, and some of us learned taste from a catalog number anyway. Peanut Butter Wolf started this one in 1996 after his partner Charizma was shot and killed, and the whole thirty-year run since has been a man refusing to let a good thing end quietly — which is why the roster wandered so far from rap and nobody minded. Tonight is the proof of that wandering: a synth-punk trio and a bedroom-soul project sharing a bill with the label's own founder in the building. The Highland Park room holds a few hundred people and has a balcony that fills first with the crowd who owns the vinyl. Watch for the merch table; label anniversaries are when the vault reissues surface and they never make it online. Music at 6:00 PM, upstairs at 104 N Avenue 56. Two more nights follow this one, and the people who come to all three tend to find each other by the second.
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Stones Throw 30, Automatic, Los Retros
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Friday, October 16, 2026
6:00 PM PDT – 9:00 PM PDT
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Owing a debt to a record label is embarrassing to explain to anyone who has not felt it, and some of us learned taste from a catalog number anyway. Peanut Butter Wolf started this one in 1996 after his partner Charizma was shot and killed, and the whole thirty-year run since has been a man refusing to let a good thing end quietly — which is why the roster wandered so far from rap and nobody minded. Tonight is the proof of that wandering: a synth-punk trio and a bedroom-soul project sharing a bill with the label's own founder in the building. The Highland Park room holds a few hundred people and has a balcony that fills first with the crowd who owns the vinyl. Watch for the merch table; label anniversaries are when the vault reissues surface and they never make it online. Music at 6:00 PM, upstairs at 104 N Avenue 56. Two more nights follow this one, and the people who come to all three tend to find each other by the second.
You found your people.
They didn't know each other before Falkor either.
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