PU$$Y-COW: Drinky Birds: CD

There are some things that you just accept about Los Angeles. The liquor aisle at Food4Less closes before the rest of the store. All DMV employees are safely behind bulletproof glass for good reason. L.A. would be absolutely beautiful… if you could just see it through the smog. Folks with much better shoes and cell phones will ask you for money… and ask you to hold. Then there’s the food, especially in the neighborhood Pu$$y-cow and Razorcake share: Highland Park has some of the best, most street-available, reasonably priced Mexican (all districts) food anywhere outside of Mexico. It often gives Northern culinary visitors—whose previous exposure to Mexican food has been from cans or Taco Bell—a big, ol’ stomach ache. They’re just not used to the spices, the lard, the cheeses. Pu$$y Cow: there’s nothing rotten or off about ‘em; they definitely won’t give you “music poisoning,” but there’s something distinctly L.A.-native about their approach to music. Your ears will have to eat through their Dickies meets Dwarves meets Stevo-then-cow-punk-era Vandals, meets crazy dude with nice shoes asking for change, meets eccentric, spazzy musicality. And, to me, I like ‘em. It’s a taste I’ve acquired while living in the neighborhood, but I understand that they’re not for everyone. (Their name is from a popular mis-hearing of a popular car dealer who advertises on TV all the time in the Southland. “Go see Cal, go see Cal.” Sounds a lot like “Pussycow, Pussycow.”)

 –todd (Chorizo Bonito)