This event is 21 and over.
$12.00 – General Admission (Advance)
$15.00 – General Admission (Door)
*plus applicable service fees
Tickets available at The Independent box office (628 Divisadero, SF) with no service charge.
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THE BLANK TAPES is the moniker of Los Angeles based multi-instrumentalist, Matt Adams, who has produced over a dozen albums of 1960’s inspired folk-rock-surf-psych-soul-pop on Volcom, Burger Records, Antenna Farm, and others. Their new album, Candy, produced by Eric D. Johnson of Fruit Bats features bandmates Will Halsey of “Sugar Candy Mountain” & Veronica Bianqui as well as Eric D Johnson. The band has toured throughout America, Canada, Brazil, UK, Europe, & Japan. Matt is also the artist behind his band’s posters & album covers as well as other artists like the Grateful Dead, Grateful Shred, Chris Robinson Brotherhood, Langhorne Slim, Circles Around The Sun, The Skiffle Players, Folkyeah presents and many others.
– “Evokes Belle and Sebastian, Pavement, and The Black Keys – in a San Fran coffeehouse (just like the old days).” – ROLLING STONE
– “Perfectly classic sound.” – SF BAY GUARDIAN
– “Awesome every time.” – LA WEEKLY
Somewhere between the rustic Louisiana lifeblood and dreamy California surf lies Killer Whale. The brainchild of Thomas Johnson, the Baton Rouge native emerged under the radar in late 2013.Killer Whale, much like its creator, wanders between New Orleans, Austin, and San Francisco, bearing the melodic scars all that travel brings him. A mixture of folk rock, psychedelic electronica, with touches of surf rock and Caribbean fare, Killer Whale doesn’t subscribe to any one camp. Instead, it exudes them all. It’s a sound kaleidoscope. With that kind of concoction, it doesn’t seem too far-fetched to think that the songs would be a melee, an atonal mishmash that harkens back to the days of being different for different’s sake. Under the leadership of another musician such might be the case, but Killer Whale melds everything together in the name of freaky good fun.
Tino Drima is a cauldron of then, now, and what will be. Crooning hell harmonies over charmed, ripping beats Tino channels music that feels like it has always existed. Think the inter-dimensional 50s radio in Old Man Cooper’s house that portals Classics from a more excellent world into his living room and everybody wants to hang out and listen and maybe stay the night even though it’s p weird there