All photos by @romphoto
Disclaimer: Before you discredit us for this being our first LA house show, remember, we’re still pretty new to the City of Angels.
Now, whether you’re catching a sing-a-long-heavy acoustic gig, a sweaty hardcore battle to the death, a lowkey EDM soirée or even a vibed out hip-hop gathering, a house show – no matter the genre – might just be one of the most exhilarating, and at the same time, terrifying things you ever experience.
Packed into a stranger’s home like a can of over-anxious sardines, house shows provide concertgoers with a higher than usual dose of danger and uncertainty in exchange for a once in a lifetime level of intimacy.
Take our situation last Saturday night on the Central side of Los Angeles for example: Crammed into a haunted looking shack, sweating from our heads to our feet from a combination of exhaustion and nervousness, we witnessed what might be one of the best live shows we’ve ever seen. With a unique smell of fear and freedom (we’ll explain later) at an all time high, we – and about a hundred other rabid diehards – caught New Jersey hip-hop/thrash punks Ho99o9 for one helluva night we’ll never forget.
Pulling up to the night’s venue, which looked like an eerie and decrepit lifelike model home from the animated film Monster House, we thanked our Uber driver Robert as he skidded off in his white 2005 Infinity.
Alarmed by the small amount of people surrounding the frail black gate outside, we entered through the passageway like a group of nervous teenagers approaching a haunted house on Halloween.
Prepared for anything, we ducked under some dark blue tarp tucked back on the side of the tattered residence and made our way into a surprisingly large and already jam-packed backyard.
Met immediately with the sight of everything from blue-haired wigs, a spay-painted dog (which, actually helped solve the viral and long-running dog pants debate; four legs for those wondering) and even, some might say, “overzealous” breast attire, we knew right away we were in for something entertaining.
Entering the wooden floored home which donned a flower-filled chandelier, framed picture of Micheal Jordan (because, duh) and an upright piano riddled with empty beer cans and blue solo cups, we snaked our way to the, let’s call it, “living room” area where the men of the night Ho99o9 were soon to play.
Surprised, but not shocked, we soon saw a fellow 999 enthusiast (Ho99o9, three nines, keep up people) being duct taped to a wall by two masked individuals – one of which, profoundly proud of her work, demonstrated her flexibility with an encore of cartwheels and back handsprings.
After buzz of the human artwork died down and everyone in the room (and outside) got their fair share of Instagram and Snapchat photos, it was finally time for both Eaddy and theOGM, who had both been graciously hosting most of the evening, to suit up and give everyone the show they had been waiting for.
While what happened next was a bit of a blur and can be best described as the Tasmanian Devil on his 21st birthday, Ho99o9 exploded into their fast-paced set churning out tracks off their recently released Dead Bodies in the Lake LP as well as their Horrors of 1999 EP.
Screaming along to every word, those able to fit inside the crowded home pushed, danced and jumped around as if their young lives depended on it – which, actually might have been true because you definitely didn’t want to be caught standing still.
After multiple instances of fans running into drummer Ian Longwell mid-set, Eaddy, in his full-frontal, white-painted birthday suite, asked for any “big mother fuckers” to come help protect the drum kit.
Doing the best they could, two large hooded men came forward to lend their massive frames in hopes they could ricochet the bloodthirsty fans back towards the tornado-sized mosh pit that had been growing larger and larger with every song performed.
Rounding out their tireless set with an unreleased almost Prodigy-like track followed by fan favorites “Bone Collector” and “DeathKult Disciples,” Ho99o9 wrapped up their show thanking those in attendance and let them know the party wasn’t finished because it was finally time to get fucked up – thus ending the review of the concert and starting the part of the night we’ll have to save for another time.