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Tom Vek, aka The British Beck, had a strange and powerful effect on the indier-than-thou womenfolk at the Troubadour on Wednesday night. First their cheeks began to flush. Then their eyes glazed over. It seemed like the girls with the heavy bangs were being hypnotized by Vek, a pretty 24-year-old thing from London. Initially I don't get his Manson-like powers (all I can think is MmmBop! when I look at him) but a few minutes into the show I start to feel the shamanic power of his minimalist, ecstatic electro-geek-rawk.

It really hits me during a New Wave-inspired number in which he chants the words "Music, Television, Music, Television," over and over for four minutes. Somehow he manages to make it sound good. Really good. Methinks there be some powerful magick at work here...

So get this - not only is Vek a mystic, he's a multi-tasking mystic, drumming, playing guitar and singing all the songs on his debut album We Have Sound, recorded in his Dad's garage in south London. Following some heavy hype back home, he recruited four musicians to accompany him on a tour of the States, but the drummer quit shortly before the LA show, forcing Vek back behind the snare.The drummer (and friend) had apparently threatened to quit several times during the tour, and Vek finally called his bluff just before Seattle show on November 18. A statement issued by his press people said Tom was "disappointed that there wasn't more of a chance to prepare this new performance style" and that he was keeping his chin up "in the face of difficulty". I thought he did very well, although it was a shame  we didn't get to see the nifty Talking Heads-style dance moves audiences enjoyed during previous shows, back when he didn't have to play drums. AND play guitar. AND sing.

At the end of the show, my friend declared her undying love for Vek and suggested we stalk him to the Beauty Bar in Hollywood. Apparently he was due to be playing a DJ set there later that night. So we head east to Rose Apodaca's infamous hairsalon-turned-bar and camp out in front of the DJ booth, eagerly awaiting Vek's arrival.

An hour later, and no sign of Vek. To alleviate the boredom (and take my mind off the really bad hip hop), I pretend to be a female Mark the Cobra Snake, and start snapping random photos of the groovy Hollywood kids. My first victims are these two young libertines. I ask them to touch tongues with each other and Mr Right says yes but sadly Mr Left can't stomach it...

I channel the cobra and happen upon these these fine lookin' lassies who are more than happy to stick out their tongues for me. Ms. Right's exceptionally broad and well-proportioned licker deserves its own My Space page, wouldn't you say?   

Suddenly, I become aware of some powerful medicine entering the room...is it Tom Vek, finally??? No, it's an infinitely more powerful magician - meet Jyota Om, energy healer for punk rock bands. A real-life shaman, in the Beauty Bar no less! That's me pouting next to him.

Jyota Om is his real name - his parents are hippies who converted to Hinduism. The New Yorker was that night assigned to watch over garage rock band The Willowz, working as their spiritual consultant and keeping up the happy vibes on the tour bus. The Willowz, who got their big break when one of their tracks was featured on the Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind soundtrack, had opened for Vek that night. In fact, the whole party at the Beauty Bar was for The Willowz. It was nearly 2am and Vek was clearly a no-show but at this point I didn't care. Who needs Tom Vek when you're talking to a real-life rock 'n roll shaman, all thanks to my new vocation as a nightlife paparazzo!

But then I spot this blue-eyed little fella making stabbing motions at me - it's the mighty Cobra Snake himself. And he ain't happy.

Cobra Snake is a young but powerful wizard capable of conjuring great things from apparently very little. He was watching me from a corner by the DJ booth, wearing a yellow t-shirt bearing an eerie drawing of a Thanksgiving turkey with a Mark the Cobra Snake head (you can order the limited edition tees for $30 a pop on his website). And he is clearly wondering who this Style Council chick thinks she is, trying to move in on his territory. I lay down the camera and high tail it outta there before he can continue with his incantations. Cobra Snake is one kind of shaman I don't wanna be messin' with...

Posted by Caroline Ryder

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