Com Truise

Slip on your coolest kicks and prepare to time-travel through sound as Com Truise catapults 1720 into a neon-drenched dreamscape on August 7, 2026. This isn't your run-of-the-mill club night—it's a sonic pilgrimage for synthwave disciples craving those retro-futuristic beats that make your heart race and your feet move. Think Blade Runner meets Miami Vice, all delivered with a thumping bassline that could resurrect a dance floor from the dead.

Doors creak open at 9:00 PM, but those in the know will be vibing early, ready to lose themselves in the electric haze. With VIP tables offering the kind of bottle service that feels more like a scene from a music video than real life, it's where the lines between fan and fantasy blur. This is your one-night invitation to a multisensory journey through space and time. Just make sure your rideshare app is updated, because when you finally emerge from the synth fog, you'll need a lift back to reality.

Clear your schedules and recalibrate your cool meters, because on August 7, 2026, the sonic lovechild of raw grit and ethereal charm is hitting the Moroccan Lounge stage. JOHN, those purveyors of post-punk alchemy who’ve managed to say more with two names than most can with four, are teaming up with French Perfume, a band whose dream-pop haze feels like diving headfirst into a velvet painting that’s been blessed by Brian Eno. Whether you're a die-hard fan of basement beats or just someone who claims to be, missing this show might just be your biggest regret since that time you passed on a limited edition pressing of "Loveless." Doors creak open at 9:30 PM, and with tickets at $12 in advance or $15 at the door, your wallet will thank you for the cultural enrichment. It’s 21+ because, let’s face it, some experiences are meant to be savored with a side of existential dread and a well-crafted cocktail.

Heads up, fellow vibe-chasers: if you're not already planning to catch Getter's electrifying set this weekend, what are you even doing? Picture this—an intimate, high-voltage sonic experience that promises to shake you out of your existential ennui. Whether you’re a basement-dwelling shoegaze enthusiast or a synthpop savant, Getter's blend of bass-heavy beats and genre-bending brilliance is your ticket to transcendence. The venue's gone cashless, so leave your bills behind and come ready to be cashless and wowed. This is no DIY dive—think VIP sections and bottle service, if that’s your jam. But remember, no shady ticket hustlers allowed; keep it legit through TicketWeb or TIXR. Grab your crew, dust off your best gig attire, and make sure your ID is as ready as your ears. Miss this one, and you might as well be stuck in a loop of last year's SoundCloud playlists. Get in, get on, or get FOMO.

Cancel your plans and prepare to lose yourself in the sonic kaleidoscope that is Driveways, taking over Teragram Ballroom on August 8. This isn't just a gig; it's a baptism by sound, a rite of passage into the next wave of emo-pop-punk you didn't know you needed. Driveways, known for their cathartic lyricism and anthemic hooks, are poised to deliver a set that feels like a late-night drive with the windows down and your heart on fire.

But wait, there's more. Like Roses will be gracing the stage with their lush, bittersweet melodies—a perfect match for anyone who thinks music should make you feel something, anything. And kicking things off are Action/Adventure, bringing their high-voltage energy and a sound that feels like your favorite summer mixtape exploded into life.

For just $22 in advance ($25 if you're fashionably late to planning), you get access to this all-ages aural feast. Doors at 7pm—don't be the one who reads about it later. Be there, front and center, where the magic happens.

Dive deep into the heart of LA’s sonic underbelly this weekend at The Echo, where Strange Case will unravel your senses with their moody, atmospheric allure, crafting soundscapes that linger longer than your latest existential crisis. They're sharing the stage with Windows, whose ethereal synths and enigmatic presence make them the kind of band that could soundtrack your most vivid dreams—or nightmares. Opening the night is Eighth Ball, whose frenetic energy and post-punk riffs might just jolt you out of your mid-week ennui. The Echo is promising a night where the walls might just melt and your Instagram feed will pale in comparison. So, dust off your most ironic band tee and grab your coolest mate—this is the kind of gig that myths are made of.

Dive headfirst into the electric swell of emotion and ethereal beats as Nurko and JVNA take the stage for a night that promises to pull even the most listless soul into its orbit. This isn't just a show—it's a sonic pilgrimage where haunting melodies meet basslines that throb like heartbeats in a lovesick chest. Forget standing still; this is where indie meets the dance floor, where synths shimmer like city lights through a rain-streaked window. Picture losing yourself amidst a sea of kindred spirits, all swaying to the kind of music that feels like it's being played just for you. And with VIP sections that make you feel like you've just stepped into the pages of a glossy zine, there's no better place to unleash your inner cool. Just remember: the only way in is through TicketWeb or TIXR—leave the third-party posers at the door. This is where FOMO turns into memories that'll make your friends wish they'd been there.

Prepare to redefine your Thursday night plans because WILLIS and Boyscott are about to blow the doors off your indie music expectations. Hailing from the land of Southern grooves and drenched in feel-good funk, WILLIS promises a live set that's as infectious as a meme-worthy TikTok but with way more staying power. Their sound is a sun-soaked joyride through the best of retro and modern indie vibes, perfect for that sweet spot between nostalgia and now.

But don't sleep on Boyscott, the lofi-pop savants whose jangly guitars and dreamy vocals craft the kind of sonic landscapes that could soundtrack your coolest daydreams. They're the type of band your vinyl collection wishes it had discovered first. This double bill is the musical equivalent of thrift store gold—unexpected, electrifying, and a secret you’ll want to keep until everyone’s asking how you got so damn cool. Grab your crew, dust off your dancing shoes, and prepare to be sonically baptized in indie bliss.

In the ever-oscillating orbit of indie brilliance, Day We Ran is your gravitational pull to something cosmic and raw. On August 11, the Moroccan Lounge transforms into a sonic nebula where tapestry synths meet shoegaze dreams, and you're invited to get lost in the ether. Imagine if The War on Drugs and Beach House had a love child raised on bedroom pop and '90s VHS tapes—Day We Ran is the soundtrack to your most cinematic moments. With Still Blank kicking things off, expect an avant-garde surge of post-punk energy to prime the night. Clear your calendar, dust off those Doc Martens, and prepare to experience what could only be described as an existential eargasm. Trust us, this is the gig your future self will brag about. $20 in advance is just the price of entry to the next chapter of your indie music memoir.

Quicksand & Bane are about to melt your face off at The Bellwether, and trust me, this is the kind of sonic therapy you didn't know you desperately needed. As Walter Schreifels and the boys reignite post-hardcore flames with their relentless energy, you'll wish you were in the eye of the storm. And for those who crave exclusivity and a killer vantage point, the Looking Glass Lounge awaits. Picture this: you're sipping on craft cocktails with a panoramic stage view, your own entrance, and a grazing table worth more than your last trip to Trader Joe's. The Bellwether's cashless, so bring that sleek, minimalist card wallet of yours. This isn't just a gig; it's an escape from the mundane into a night where legends play, and you become the story.

Sound And Fury Presents: Cold World is the sonic baptism you didn't know you needed. Imagine stepping into a secret warehouse where the walls pulse with the raw energy of a thousand basement shows, and every obscure music theory class you've taken suddenly makes sense. Cold World is the latest brainchild of those sound alchemists who turn angst into anthems, fusing post-punk grit with a shoegaze shimmer that hits like a shot of espresso to your soul. This isn't just a gig; it's a rite of passage into the deepest recesses of the indie underworld where every chord change feels like a revelation. The crowd? A perfectly curated mix of flannel-clad philosophers and vinyl vestal virgins, ready to lose themselves in a haze of distorted dreams. Miss this, and you'll be left hearing echoes of what could have been, while everyone else gets baptized in Cold World's electric rapture.

KAYA, Japan's avant-garde virtuoso, is about to unleash a sonic storm on 1720, and it’s the kind of night that Instagram legends are made of. Think Bowie meets Tim Burton in a Tokyo alleyway—this is visual kei at its most electrifying. Kaya’s gothic dark-wave spectacle is a rare gem for LA, dripping with theatrical flair and vocals that cut through the haze like a katana. Arrive early; you'll want to snag a spot close to the action because FOMO is a cruel beast. And for those who want to roll like the indie elite, VIP tables offer a booze-soaked oasis amidst the crowd. Just remember, this isn’t Coachella—leave the flower crowns at home and bring your boldest eyeliner game. Miss this, and you’ll be scrolling through stories wishing you’d been there to witness the glam chaos.

Brace yourselves, indie aficionados and sonic spelunkers, because XKYLAR is about to detonate onto the stage at the Moroccan Lounge like a celestial supernova. On August 14, 2026, this enigmatic collective, known for weaving synths into a tapestry of post-apocalyptic euphoria, invites you to traverse a universe where shoegaze dreams meet cosmic synthpop revelations. Picture this: a kaleidoscopic journey through soundscapes that shimmer like a neon mirage, with beats so infectious they'll have you questioning if gravity's even real. XKYLAR's live sets are legendary—a mesmerizing maelstrom that seduces the senses and resonates deep in your indie heart. Secure your spot, and prepare to have your musical universe expanded beyond recognition. Doors at 9:30pm, tickets are a steal at $20 adv/$25 day-of. Miss this, and risk living in the shadow of regret while your friends recount the transcendent experience you could have had. 18+ only; it’s time to adult and indulge.

Habstrakt is about to turn your Friday night into a seismic shift on the dancefloor, where basslines are the only language and you don’t need a translator—just a willingness to lose yourself in the rhythm. This isn't just another night out; it's an initiation into a sonic cult where the only entry fee is your inhibitions. Imagine a place where shadows pulse in time with the trap-infused beats and the air hums with an electric anticipation that crackles like static. Leave your pretense at the door and step into a world where the beats are heavy, the crowd is your tribe, and every drop feels like a shared secret. Trust us, your Instagram can wait. Just remember, the only way in is through TicketWeb or TIXR—so don’t get caught out in the cold with a bogus StubHub ticket. This is the kind of night you’ll be talking about in whispers over brunch, because some experiences are too good to spoil.

Clear your schedule and dust off your coolest vintage band tee, because Franklin Jonas & The Byzantines are about to shake up your existential ennui with a sound that's as electric as a neon sign in a rainstorm. Picture this: Franklin, the prodigal Jonas, trading Disney gleam for gritty riffs and lyrical depth, backed by The Byzantines—a crew of sonic masons crafting epic aural cathedrals from basement-shoegaze bricks and synthpop mortar. They're headlining a set that's equal parts transcendental jam and intimate confession, where the walls sweat nostalgia and the air buzzes with future anthems. If there’s ever been a night to risk the G train for a taste of the underground’s untapped magic, this is it. Bring your jaded soul and leave with a setlist of new obsessions.

Clear your calendar and dust off your coolest thrift store threads because Man Man and American Tomahawk are about to grace the gritty, neon-soaked stage of The Echoplex. This isn’t just a gig; it's an alchemical fusion of avant-pop chaos and raw, unfiltered rock energy that'll have your heart strumming a million BPM. Man Man's frenetic carnival of sound is an aural trip that feels like Tom Waits and David Byrne hijacked a circus, while American Tomahawk's razor-sharp riffs will leave your ears buzzing with existential epiphanies. The Echo's iconic pulse will guide you to 1154 Glendale Blvd, where sonic catharsis awaits. Miss this, and you might just have to pretend to be into TikTok music trends to fill the void.

In the heart of downtown L.A., where gritty alleys meet the neon sheen of the Belasco, Tomahawk is set to detonate the mundane with a sonic boom only they can conjure. This is not just a gig—it's an all-ages call to arms for anyone tired of Spotify algorithms dictating their vibe. With the standing-room-only crowd pressed close enough to feel each other's heartbeats, there’s an electric anticipation that can only come from a band known for its audacious blend of the visceral and the cerebral. As the pre-show VIP lounge doors creak open at 6PM for those in the know, the rest will pour in at 7PM, eager to catch the first wave at 8PM. Don't sleep on this—because the support acts are as much a mystery as your next musical obsession, and Tomahawk never promises the same setlist twice. Accessibility? They’ve got your back, ensuring that every music lover can sway and swoon without a hitch. This isn't just a concert; it's a rite of passage for anyone who remembers why they fell in love with music in the first place.