drummers corner


LA’s hottest club is PÉPÉ.

located in some musty ass recording studio ariel rechtshaid built out of a cardboard box and some planks of wood found in a dumpster, this californiatrash hotspot is the brainchild of real estate agent donna haim.

this place has everything:

a diligent farmer called danielle tending to her crops in the middle of the dancefloor, a baby in pyjamas who shouts about how chill she is to anyone in her line of sight, the unimportant members of valli girls getting blackout drunk by the bar, kesha sat in the back vomiting up endless glitter while getting a vodka enema, moti haim using some passed out people as drums and album two played on loop

(uhh what’s album two?)

it’s that thing where three sisters from the valley have to make more songs but can’t write without taking 7 years so they scream into a microphone for an hour as a single guitar note drones on in the background while the tour drummer sits in the corner of the recording booth crying as he’s not allowed to join in