Local H is probably the finest rock band in existence. Somehow being relatively small time has worked out well for Local H, as they still exist as a band unlike a lot of bands that came up in the early 90′s, riding the Nirvana wave. This probably has a lot to do with the fact that the band consists of only two people and only one of them is really important—and in fact, the original drummer left after the first three albums. Though with how good the last two albums have been it’s easy to wonder if “new” drummer (being the drummer for 11 years counts as “new”) is partly responsible for how good they are.

Anyway. I got to see Local H play at the Brixton in Redondo Beach on Friday night and it was pretty legendary. This is the “6 Angry Records Tour” and the gist of it is this: each night they put all the names of their albums in a hat and let a fan pick a record, then they play through that whole album. After that they play a bunch of other, random tracks. We got lucky Friday night and their third album, the masterwork “Pack Up The Cats” was played—though in truth there was only one album I wouldn’t have been overjoyed to hear.

For a Local H fan to get to hear “Pack Up The Cats” played through entirely live is a close equivalent to a Beatles fan getting to hear all of “Sgt. Pepper’s” played straight through—assuming of course that The Beatles were a regular turning band and seeing them live at all is not at all unusual. “Cats”, while lacking the emotional edge of “12 Angry Months” that really gets my head going, is a damn fine album and the fact that most of the audience could sing every word is a pretty clear indicator of how awesome the show was.

On top of that, I think because the show was in Redondo Beach and lacked the usual hipster I can’t be bothered motherfucker crowd, the place was full of people who were obviously Local H fans. That’s probably the best thing about Local H and their 14 year career so far, they’ve built up a great base of fans who aren’t assholes and who just seem to get it. Even the drunk girls—who were drunk, my friends—danced and enjoyed the music without being obnoxious. These drunk girls were fans, and sung every word too. It was a beautiful thing, all these drunk people, not being assholes at some random concert but actually behaving with respect, in rapture of Local H.

Not much else I can say about the show other than that. It would have been nice to hear “Hey, Rita” played live but I’ve heard it before at other shows. I hope Local H plays forever, because I’ll totally one day be one of those 40 year old guys who stands in the middle of the crowd shouting every word and not looking like a creep while doing it who was at this show. Course, by then, Local H themselves might be pretty damn old.