The Grayson is slammed when I arrive Saturday night. It’s just a little after 10:30 p.m., but there are crowds of people hovering over the bar, more huddled in the booths and gathered on the floor. Almost immediately, I spot someone on the dance floor, a friend who I haven’t seen in a while. We say hi and comment on the music and get back into the groove. It’s Italo Horror Night, L.A. Industrial/Dolce Vita’s Halloween party, and the vibe inside is giallo and jams. The Beyond, the 1981 Lucio Fulci film, is playing on a TV above the bar. David Christian just dropped “One Night in Bangkok,” but it’s not the Murray Head version that I know from countless spins on L.A. radio stations. I make a mental note to ask him about it.
I almost didn’t make it out tonight. An hour or so earlier, while I watched House of Wax, the old Vincent Price movie, on TV, a wave of exhaustion hit me during a commercial break. Maybe I should call it a night, I thought. Then I considered how completely pathetic it would be to say, “Hey, sorry I missed your party, but I was busy watching TV.” The only excuse more boring would be, “Sorry I can’t make it, I’m busy doomscrolling.” So, I turned off the boob tube as soon as the movie ended and darted outside to catch a ride before I could change my mind again.As soon as I stepped inside the Italo Horror Disco, I knew that I made the right decision.
A little while later, I run into another friend, who is wearing an enviable t-shirt that says “Italia” on it and is splattered pink, green and yellow. Demons is playing on the bar TV now. I’ve never seen it before, so my friend tells me about the movie and the soundtrack. At some point in time during the night, the movie theater scene that he mentions will play on TV and, well, it’s pretty disgusting. I’m going to have to watch the movie eventually, though, just so I can hear the soundtrack.
Mando Italo is on the decks. He’s playing all vinyl, dropping one heater after the next, building up to the one instantly recognizable classic, “Vuela Vuela.” His set is killer and there are some discoheads in the crowd, sliding and spinning on the small bit of available dance floor. There’s a group sitting at a booth chanting the disco call. One gets up and starts to dance. He looks like he’s just catching the groove and then he spins a perfect pirouette, coming out of it into a pas de bourree without losing a beat.
At just past midnight, Thomas Mellan plays live. He’s an organist and a composer— check out his YouTube, when you have the chance— and tonight, he’s playing a horror movie-inspired set with synths. Goblin is in there, as is John Carpenter’s theme for Escape from New York. The performance space is very small. Mellan is set up in front of the DJ booth. He has his back towards the bulk of the crowd. Yet, from that vantage point, you can see his hands at work. At certain points in the set, he plays with astonishing speed.
If you’re watching from the hallway that connects The Grayson and Slipper Clutch, all you really see is Mellan’s head and the hairy-lettered logo of his Blood Incantation t-shirt bopping up and down above a laptop with Lamb of God and Megadeth stickers on it. From that perspective, Mellan looks like he’s DJing, so it must be surprising to walk around and realize that he’s playing all this music.
People are visibly impressed. There are a lot of cell phones in the air. Some grab their phones and start to record as soon as they walk into the room and realize what’s happening. There are all kinds of people checking out the show: the discoheads and the L.A. industrial crowd, some punks wandering in from Slipper Clutch, a few people who look like they came from a wedding.
Part of me wants to stick around after the show ends, but I am pretty beat. I say my goodbyes and head out to Broadway to catch a ride home. As I wait, another scene unfolds. We’re about an hour or so away from last call, so there’s a glut of people coming and going. Small crowds are stumbling in and out of The Grayson and Precinct, which is next door. Some are in costume. I see Sailor Jupiter roll with a group of Halloween party people right before the rideshare arrives. A couple other people try to get into the car. If you’ve ever seen the Saturday night Uber/Lyft situation downtown, you would get why that’s sort of normal. One guy, who is holding a beer can, wobbles as he tries to get in after I’ve shut the door.
“Is he with you?” the driver asks.
“No,” I answer and we laugh before taking off.
Liz O. is an L.A.-based writer and DJ. Read her recently published work and check out her upcoming gigs.
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