Crumb Takes a Bow at Los Angeles’ Wiltern Theatre
The neo-psychedelic, dream pop sensation Crumb wraps up the North American leg of their AMAMA Tour with an ethereal finale at Los Angeles’ Wiltern Theatre
PHOTOS BY EMILY ENTZ
The historic theaters of Los Angeles bead Wilshire Boulevard like charms along a necklace. Driving down, I catch them canting in and out of my rearview, tempting me with their flashing marquees. I never stopped to admire them until the evening of October 23rd, when New York-native, neo-psychedelic rock quartet Crumb closed out the North American leg of their AMAMA Tour at the Wiltern Theatre. Named for the iconic intersection of Wilshire and Western it occupies, the Wiltern has had lives as a vaudeville cabaret, a Warner Brothers screening theater and an organ recital chamber, but now is primarily a concert hall. Nowhere else in the city was better fit to send off an act as captivating and kaleidoscopic as Crumb.
I came to this conclusion at a quarter past nine when they swept across the stage to “Shahdaroba” by Roy Orbison. A cheer sounded through the loge and mezzanine as each member strode into silhouettes against the pixel portraits of paper dolls paneled across the set. From left to right stood Bri Aronow on synth, keyboard and occasional saxophone section, Lila Ramani, lead singer and guitarist, with Jonathan Gilad on drums and bassist Jesse Brotter. Excess light contoured the frames of their bodies, fanning out onto the sunburst set in the ceiling, slipping down the festooned drapery and gilding the faces of wide-eyed audience members. The Wiltern matched Crumb for nostalgia and spectacle, but Crumb (ironically) transcended the venue in cinematic atmosphere.
The first song they played was the album’s namesake, “AMAMA,” which set the tone. An ode to Leela, the grandmother of Ramani, “AMAMA” is a mosaic of “disparate places” and “missed connections.” On the track, Ramani harmonizes with the looped sample of her grandmother singing in Malayalam; a duet through space and time. Played live without the thematic sample of Leela, “AMAMA” initially felt thin, but as the melody picked up, plucked through Ramani’s guitar, reinforced by the layered keyboard and synth of Aronow, it was as though Crumb had summoned Leela to the stage. Her voice chimed through their instrumentation, echoing in the auditorium chamber. Whether by magic or mimicry, I could hear Leela through Ramani’s voice and guitar, even though she was not there. And in keeping with this, it was hard to believe Crumb was real too. Cut by the amber light, the band appeared lucid, yet ephemeral, as though they’d vanish at the stroke of midnight. But that is the experiment of Crumb: to bend reality to its absolute.
PHOTOS BY EMILY ENTZ
Nearly a decade into their career, Crumb still maintains an element of mystery. With each new project, their dappled, dreamy sound matures into its own language, while the details of their personal lives drift further into obscurity. Crumb relies less on effability and more on sonic mirth. It’s how they get away with requiems for tour-van-crushed turtles (“Crushxd”) and melted musings about Ramani’s cluttered room (“Dust Bunny”). AMAMA is Crumb at their most indulgent. They take a headlong plunge into the nebulized sound and spirit that defined them and homestead in it.
There is a parable buried in every song for those with the will and determination to unearth it, yet doing so would defeat the purpose. In Crumb’s world, narrative is secondary. Lyrics trickle off at uneven intervals. Songs swirl to an end on unfinished thoughts. Entire verses bleed into psychedelic guitar arrangements and synthesizer virtuosos. All of this ephemera is further compounded by the cryptic samplings and stylings to which Crumb has become accustomed. From sampled police scanners to glitching pitch shifts, nothing is ever played straight. Most of this experimentation adds texture; some of it adds intention; all of it adds dimension. It’s not about the message being transmitted, it’s about finally tuning to the right frequency to receive it.
“Genie” was my personal favorite of the show for this very reason. It is relentless in its complexity, splintering into warped synth sections and reverb guitar riffs beneath Ramani’s jazzy refrains. When played live, the fantasy truly comes to life. Ramani’s sibylline guitar and vocals floated on Aronow's frenetic synth, supported by the background vocals and bassline of Brotter, welded together with the energetic rhythm of drummer, Jonathan Gilad. It was as transcendent as it was hypnotic, leaving the audience enraptured and punch-drunk.
PHOTOS BY EMILY ENTZ
Much of AMAMA is composed of songs left off of previous albums and EPs, so when “Genie” was followed by “Ice Melt” and “Ghostride,” it did not feel out of place. The full discography of Crumb is a patchwork of dreams and reality, and the show was very much a variation on that theme. It’s not uncommon to dream of all the trivial and inconsequential happenings that accumulate throughout the day, like strawberry seeds or bed bugs, or the flock of geese blocking a bridge in your hometown. Crumb just gives a voice to those dreams.
After the final song of the setlist had been played and the final bows had been taken, Crumb began to drift stage left, but the crowd chanting for an encore made them pause. They exchanged grins and retook their places behind their instruments. The final song Crumb played that night was “Part III” from their debut, Jinx. “Part III” is a hazy expedition into mundane melancholia, narrated through three fragments of Ramani’s fleeting thoughts. In the end, this is Crumb’s objective: to gather those passive observations and watercolor memories and hold them to a microscope. Turning them over and pulling them apart, piece by piece, atom by atom.
PHOTOS BY EMILY ENTZ
