How I Came Across Kiss or Kill: Kelly

By Kelly:

When I moved out to California to start graduate school, I was desperate to make some money. Those who know me realize that prostitution wasn't an option for me, so I opted for the next best thing: a work-study job at my university. I started working for the music school, answering phones with my fellow musicians in a church basement that housed some of the scariest crypt-like hallways that I've ever seen. My coworkers and I became fast friends, trading band names and favorite show memories like currency. One of these coworkers would always come in bleary-eyed (and often twenty minutes late) on Wednesday mornings, and proceed to tell me about her escapades the night before at this "awesome club," Kiss or Kill.

At first I was skeptical. Certainly I was intrigued by Emma's stories about the social interactions among members of this tight-knit community, but mostly I was interested in the music. She swore that some of these local bands were the best she'd heard, but this still wasn't enough to get me out of my cozy house on a Tuesday night to mingle with a group of folks I was sure would shun me for not being cool enough to run with their crowd.

I resisted Emma's invitations to come to Kiss or Kill for months, even after Laura Red was hired as our boss at work. Every Wednesday, I would listen to the two of them rehash the previous night's events over coffee, stifling yawns but never fully able to conceal grins about the great time they'd had hopping onstage to sing "Sunday Night" with Bang. This went on for about eight months until I finally sucked it up and agreed to come out with them to the second comp release party at the Knitting Factory.

From the instant I walked in, I felt at home. People I had never met before were hugging me hello and telling me their personal histories, all to the backdrop of some of the most infectious, honest local music I'd heard in LA. A frequenter of several indie shows, I was used to the stand-back-with-arms-folded-and-glare-appraisingly-at-the-band stance that so many of LA's concert-goers adopt; here, there was a feeling of community, excitement, and energy between crowd and band that I hadn't seen in years. Not once did I feel out of place for not knowing lyrics to a UCP song, or hand motions to go along with Midway tunes--I knew I'd learn.

The past few years have been incredible. I've discovered so many talented bands who have revitalized my interest in a local music scene that I'd all but written off. I've made lasting friendships with folks whose last names I still don't know. I've gone through countless pairs of earplugs, lost hours and hours of sleep, and wouldn't trade it for anything.

Thank you, Kiss or Kill!