The Airborne Toxic Event finds fondness at the Fonda

Kevin Bronson on
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airborne-fonda

Photo gallery courtesy of Jeff Koga

The Airborne Toxic Event played a sold-out show at the Music Box @ Fonda on Thursday night, and I am here to recount a little bit of it, but to tell you the truth, I don’t know why. Seems as if everybody has his mind made up about the Los Angeles quintet. You either love them, or you hate them – pants or mustard, as a beloved former DJ once spun it – no in between. Is there another band that has so polarized local musicphiles? In such a short career?

So you can tailor these words to either your adulatory afterglow or simmering vitriol: Airborne, on the second date of a six-week tour, played its me-against-the-world (and occasionally me-against-myself) mien for 75 exhilarating minutes and even if you’re not sure whether some of their new fans can spell “catharsis,” they certainly felt it, even the seemingly mosh-ready dude who invaded my space early in the set. Bless him, his spilt beer and his cellphone too. To my right, a nice young lady from the Westside with a big smile allowed as how, “Their music makes me feel things.” And to someone like that, “They suck” is not an argument.

They don’t, though. Airborne dispatches emotion like an Obama poster, and while



some of it might be (as) nebulous and melodramatic, the music nonetheless provides uplift to anybody who’s felt knock-kneed from feelings of fear and isolation. As in their big radio single “Sometime Around Midnight,” the sound outstrips the content – their grand orchestral swells, scratchy guitars and driving beats can transform anecdotes into novellas. That the black-clad local heroes execute it in a stylish and even boozy-as-a-forgotten-poet sort of way only adds to the theater.

The quintet appeared a little unfocused Thursday, owing, perhaps, to the overwhelming warm-and-fuzzy they were getting from the homecoming crowd. Frontman Mikel Jollett must have set a concert record for thanking Los Angeles, and of course, he took great pains to point out that his mates are just guys (and gal) from the ‘hood, over in Los Feliz. He hopped into the crowd and clambered onto a side ledge for one song – while violist Anna Bulbrook went crowd-surfing – then invited 25 or 30 people onstage for the finale, “Missy.” But never for a moment did Airborne and its audience lose the connection. With six weeks of hard touring ahead – and an appearance in April at Coachella – their task is forge a bond beyond the radio single, a hurdled easily cleared in front of the home crowd.

The Henry Clay People, after a spirited but sound-plagued opening set by Fresno’s Rademacher, were their frolicky selves, with brothers Joey and Andy Siara turning the Fonda stage into a family rumpus room. The sibling rivalry translated well onstage and in song, as the brothers dueled for licks, competed for microphones and staggered about the stage as if their value-added classic rock were a cattle prod. Guests joined them onstage; they ripped through a punk-rock cover; they tossed in a classic-rock medley; and somehow, Joey Siara, only about 10 minutes into the set, induced some audience participation. Which is not something opening acts can generally pull off. As their L.A. club shows have been known to do, chaos nearly took over at a couple junctures – yeah, it’s great to bounce around up there but not if you miss vocal cues – yet the train never stayed off the tracks for very long.