If David Gilmour and John Denver had wandered into Spaceland last Friday, I’m sure they would’ve nodded their heads in appreciation. The headlining bands – Pine Marten and Radar Brothers -- are two of L.A.’s best examples of that intangible genre known as low-fi, slowcore, folk-pop, or whatever else you want to call it. They manage to keep it simple, yet oh-so-layered. Two parts Fresno; one part Palm Springs, and named after the American sable, Pine Marten has a musical style self-described as “musical landscapes” and “thoughts on the simplicities once had.” I look forward to hearing more from this downplayed yet inspiring trio.

I firmly believe Radar Brothers has diplomatic immunity from critics. A friend recently described their music as “somnambular.” I disagree; these Brothers are far from asleep. I’ve been a fan since their ’96 Restless Records debut -- and you should note that my usual musical repertoire consists of bands such as Cephalic Carnage and Panzerchrist. Listening to the Radar Brothers perform live is like watching the late Bob Ross paint – they just can’t make a wrong move. Every stroke somehow finds its place, resulting in masterpiece after masterpiece. OK, so maybe Bob Ross’ works aren’t masterpieces, but we can all agree they were at least pleasing to the eye. The same holds true for Radar Brothers music – it’s incredibly pleasing to the ear. It’s as if they can do no wrong. Singer/guitarist Jim Putnam’s face is somewhere between a smile and a grimace as he manages to hit every note perfectly, laying out his lyrics like burnt sienna treetrunks and ochre sunsets on an ever-widening canvas. Senon Williams softly bobs and cranes his head, his eyes closing as his body anticipates and greets each pending bass note. Steve Goodfriend’s gently brushed snare and cymbals carry the trio like a magic carpet. Other Silver Lake regulars took the stage during the Brothers’ set, with both the singer/guitarist of the Silversun Pickups and Pine Marten’s Mark Wooten helping out on keyboards. Call them one big melancholy family. Their subdued sound conjures up dreamy memories -- for me; it was laying in bed, listening to the sound of the aluminum siding of my childhood home in Ohio creaking under the sun of an endless summer afternoon.