Over the last fifty years, the list of classic American traditions has grown to include a slightly mutated, niche entry: the binge-watching of cult movies.
The lore dictates that a token “trouble cousin” or, in my case, older brother takes you under their wing after the parents go to bed, puts on a worn VHS copy of something like Evil Dead or Sleepaway Camp in the total darkness of a suburban basement, and scares the ever-loving shit out of you. For some, the experience is a one time dive into campiness that never gets revisited, but for a handful, these movies become sacred, hallowed for their absolute commitment to a world of cartoonish human extremes.
Coming from a person that begged his dad from the age of seven to let him see The Warriors (but not the re-edited director’s cut because even seven year old me knew better), it’s easy to spot Neon Indian’s Alan Palomo as a fellow lover of campy cinema. Although Palomo referred to last year’s phenomenal VEGA Intl. Night School as his own “fucked-up, weird Troma movie”, Neon Indian’s set Thursday felt far more at home in the Warriors’ pulpy, midnight playground of New York than anywhere the Toxic Avenger ever frequented.
Opening amongst VEGA-inspired brick wall and neon sign facades, Brooklyn duo Computer Magic eased crowds through the queue into Neon Indian’s fantasy nightclub with their brand of dreamy synth pop. Donning an astronaut’s jumpsuit, producer/singer Danz Johnson definitely looked at home in VEGA‘s surreal world of dance, but Computer Music’s set felt like a better fit for star-gazing after the bars close.
In terms of representing the gleefully immature hedonism of b-movies, opening a set with a song dedicated to a bygone Italian porn magazine is about as dead center as a band could possibly get. Bringing the balcony to a woozy shuffle with “Dear Skorpio Magazine”, Palomo and a tightly arranged iteration of the Neon Indian band proceeded with a VEGA-heavy 14 song set. The VEGA band proved to be Palomo’s biggest asset, specifically his brother Jorge Palomo’s reggaeton-inspired bass work on highlights like “Annie” and “The Glitzy Hive”.
Despite the fact that much of Neon Indian’s blog-initiated charm (or, to some, weakness) rested on their warped pastiche of ‘80s AM radio music, revisits to Psychic Chasms-era tracks like “Terminally Chill” and “Mind, Drips” mixed in seamlessly long after the summer of chillwave set. Much like how VEGA operated best when taken as a syrupy party playlist though, Neon Indian’s live strength lies in its ability to feel more like a honed-in DJ set than a disparate collection of hits. Building to the nu-disco epic “Slumlord”, even Palomo found himself unleashing the kind of bedroom mirror dancing that only rears its head after downing a few gin and tonics in the bathroom line.
At the same time, that kind of unhinged joy is what makes this (re)incarnation of Neon Indian its most lovable. While a staple like “Polish Girl” is an undeniably pleasing encore, following that with the Prince-aping “News From The Sun” to close the set fully showed Neon Indian at its most immersive, colorful peak.
If only we all could be so inspiring after watching Poultrygeist.
For photos from the show, check out our gallery below.
