I love L.A. Where else can you hear trip-hop, pop-rock and shoegazer music in one evening, under one roof, and for free, no less?

Park Avenue Music describe themselves on their website as "Electronic-noise-pop-salad." The vinegar and oil on this salad are Wes Steed and Jeannette Faith, and if they haven't been on late-night KCRW by now, then something's very wrong. Within seconds, I was hooked - their dreamy keyboards and thick trip-hop beats blends perfectly, and Jeanette's angelic voice makes it even better. Their sound is reminiscent of Portishead, yet refreshingly new. I felt a tinge of early This Mortal Coil, and that's a good thing. During their set, Wes' long arms tweaked a small brownish box studiously -- I think it might have been a Micromoog. His equipment spat forth a Yars' Revenge-like synth, while Jeannette's keyboards lulled me with electronic strings akin to something from Queen's Flash Gordon soundtrack. Think Sneaker Pimps on Percocet, or Fiona Apple playing piano in a natatorium. Picture reflective lakes, morning mist, autumn leaves, flickering candles, and lovers kissing. This is music that makes me want to make a film for the sole purpose of being a vehicle for their music.

Continuing the evening's theme of familiar yet original music was The 88. As soon as I saw their singer pick up his hollow-body electric guitar, it became evident that they knew what they were doing. Their blend of power pop, alt-country, Britpop and blues worked wonderfully. I'll let you pick: think Oasis meets Mudhoney, The Verve meets Screaming Trees, or Pleasure Forever meets Wilco. I recognized one of the members of The 88 as a "percussionist" from Midget Handjob. It was hard to believe this fellow was the same man I saw a few weeks ago banging tribally on a wok and pickle bucket. Only this time, he was wearing a crisp suit and playing guitar (acoustic and electric), maracas and tambourine. Their keyboard player also handled occasional accordian duties. There's no weak link in this band's chain, and their performance proved this.

Prior to their set, Silversun Pickups' frontman informed the audience that he had recently seen 24-Hour Party People (a film reliving the Manchester music scene from the late 70's to the mid-90's), and this influence became immediately apparent when they started playing. Not the upbeat drum-loop/Nubian soul of say, the Happy Mondays, but rather the crashing waves of Ride. Their sound also brought to mind Gish-era Smashing Pumpkins, with hints of early Hum. I got all warm and fuzzy inside hearing their shoegazer approach, and each member contributed to the collective appropriately. The bassist plucked and the drummer thumped away faithfully; laying down an aural canvas on which the two guitarists could spill their effects-tinted paints whenever necessary. I was particularly taken by one of latter two, who looked uncannily like Bill Gates on Metabolife. Don't let his clingy polyester shirt, math-major glasses and disheveled blonde mop fool you - I could swear he was playing a B.C. Rich Warlock! He would alternate between gentle single-note follows and full-chord churning, even throwing in an Yngwie-style hammer from time to time. For their last few songs, they invited a guest cellist on stage (along with her H.R. Geiger-esque "Kyuss cello"). I had decade-old flashbacks every time they started a song with some Pumpkins-esque, downtuned, non-distorted strumming. I half expected to hear Mr. Corgan himself whine out the first few lines of Suffer or Rhinoceros. I hope to hear more from this melancholy quartet - and the sooner; the better.