Unknowingly Critiquing Cass McCombs to his Face


Nothing quite compares to embarrassing yourself in front of talented famous people.

Warren Smith’s one of our longtime pals and all-time best slashies. Things that Warren’s received money for in the past includes, but is not limited to: Surfboarding, skimboarding, skateboarding, playing the drums in a speed metal band, laser tag, and, as you see here, photography. Warren’s long been our go-to man for social activities when we find ourselves in LA. Seeing as he’s forever got his ear to the ground, we figured we’d get him to document his ventures and tap us into the vein of LA’s vibrant undercurrent. First stop was an embarrassing, and subsequently redeeming encounter with Cass McCombs.


I met Cass once at a bar in Hollywood. I was talking to him and a mutual friend about a show I just saw, not knowing that this dude standing next to me was Cass McCombs. I was speaking like a real dick head, about the moody landscapes and atmospheric tones of this band and how they were looping a tape recorder for some ethereal effects yadda yadda yadda, ya know, like an extreme asshole. Like a blogger. After my goofy rant, my buddy goes, “Hey, have you met my friend Cass?” My stomach farted and my mouth squirted a little, because I immediately realised I had been vomiting blogger talk in front of one of our generation’s greatest songwriters. Fast forward a few months and two amazing albums later, and now I’m watching my good friend, front row pouring his eyes out to a live performance of Cass and his poetic, freewheeling travel music. Each track was like a theme song for people who like to be alone, or at least far away from slobbery bloggers and their crying friends.








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