August
31
F Yeah Fest: Mika Miko
Post by Andrew Barker
At first glance, L.A.'s Mika Miko looks more like an amalgamation of strange tics and affectations than a band. They have two singers: one bouncing around the stage, screaming into a bright red telephone receiver like an over-caffeinated 13-year old trapped in her bedroom; the other sulking and twisting herself into strange contortions, as though straining to read the "kick me" sign stuck to her back. The bass player looked confused, surprised to find herself onstage, while the guitarist handed off her axe to a bandmate and sat down on the drum riser for several songs, as though in protest.
At first glance, L.A.'s Mika Miko looks more like an amalgamation of strange tics and affectations than a band. They have two singers: one bouncing around the stage, screaming into a bright red telephone receiver like an over-caffeinated 13-year old trapped in her bedroom; the other sulking and twisting herself into strange contortions, as though straining to read the "kick me" sign stuck to her back. The bass player looked confused, surprised to find herself onstage, while the guitarist handed off her axe to a bandmate and sat down on the drum riser for several songs, as though in protest.
And yet as the show went on, it became impossible to not be swept up. The normally all-female quintet (killer drummer Kate Hall was inexplicably absent, replaced by an unknown male) put up a rambunctious set that never fell prey to expected patterns -- the punk-leaning songs were just a little too off-kilter for full-on slamdancing (not that it stopped anyone), while the slap-happy dance tunes filtered in waves of Albini-like dissonance. And for all the appearance of studied amateurishness, the band was extremely tight, bouncing odd rhythms off one another and trading vocal lines like old pros. An extremely likable band that kept the Echoplex crowd on its toes.
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