2 Much Live Music: December 2025 Ran Through The Tape

Rather than ease in, December body-slammed its way through the door with enough wubs and womps to last a lifetime, courtesy of Subtronics. The Philly-born bass assassin (real name: Jesse Kardon) rolled up to Los Angeles and staged a full-blown takeover, with six sold-out nights at The Shrine Expo Hall like it was his personal low-end laboratory.

Sure, the music itself was an eardrum-rattling barrage of snarling drops and gut-check frequencies, but what really separated Subtronics from the pack was the production. The light show wasn’t just window dressing; it was the main event. Rotating light columns spun like alien machinery, lasers sliced the room into geometric chaos, pyrotechnics flared at just the right moments, and smoke swallowed the crowd whole. I could writer a volume (or three) trying to describe the spectacle, but it still wouldn’t do it justice. Nor does a social media video, but you’ll get the idea.

The opening night hit so hard, in fact, that I found myself back in the building for the finale. And look, I don’t listen to EDM like I did back in college, but for Subtronics, that brief relapse into bass nostalgia was absolutely worth it. Sometimes, you’ve got to remind your nervous system what it feels like to get blasted with light and sound.

For most of the world, catching Dragon Smoke in the wild is a once-in-a-blue-moon affair. For L.A., it’s a seasonal migration pattern. 

In 2025, the New Orleans supergroup of Ivan Neville, Eric Lindell, Robert Mercurio, and Stanton Moore reconvened at The Venice West and turned the cozy Westside room into a full-on funk furnace. The place was stacked with familiar faces, — veterans of Dragon Smoke’s old Mint runs — singing along, nodding in all the right spots, and moving like folks who knew exactly what was coming and loved it anyway. It felt less like a concert and more like a reunion for people fluent in grease, groove, and deep-pocket rhythm.

If you missed this one and are already kicking yourself, don’t worry. Anyone hoping to catch a whiff of Dragon Smoke in 2026 should point themselves toward New Orleans Jazz Fest on May 1, where this crew will once again do what they do best: show up, lock in, and remind everyone why funk never goes out of season.

About a month before the Crutchfield sisters threw their lovingly chaotic, cover-heavy joint birthday bash at El Rey, Allison Crutchfield and Katie Crutchfield (a.k.a. Waxahatchee herself) quietly unleashed a brand-new band on the West Coast. The project, called Snocaps, took a short but sweet stroll through California that included two nights at Teragram Ballroom, where the group road-tested its surprise, self-titled debut in front of a room full of clued-in fans.

The lineup alone was enough to get indie lifers leaning forward: Brad Cook on bass, and MJ Lenderman on drums instead of his usual guitar, channeling an indie-folk Jack White. Together, this crew felt less like a side project and more like a “how did this not already exist?” situation.

Whether they were gliding through the jangly ease of “Coast,” poking around the corners of a “Brand New City,” or tapping into some Dylan-esque flavors on “Cherry Hard Candy,” the Crutchfield sisters’ chemistry was the undeniable engine. It’s the kind of easy, lived-in musical conversation that can’t be faked and doesn’t come around often.

If this West Coast teaser was hinting at anything, it’s that Snocaps is a band with legs, heart, and a whole lot of road ahead of them.

Bluegrass may have been born in a Kentucky barn, but it packed up and hit the road a long time ago. For more than six decades now, the music of the American South has found fertile ground in California — especially in the Bay Area, where the lines between bluegrass, folk, psychedelia, and jam culture have been beautifully blurred ever since Jerry Garcia first picked up a banjo. Molly Tuttle grew up right in the middle of that lineage, steeped in a tradition that values virtuosity, curiosity, and a willingness to stretch the form.

During the penultimate stop of The Highway Knows Tour at Hollywood’s Fonda Theatre, Molly brought that whole history with her. The night unfolded like a musical memoir, weaving stories of her upbringing and her steady rise through the ranks of country, bluegrass, and Americana into a set packed with jaw-dropping picking and genuine warmth. 

In true Molly Tuttle fashion, the 32-year-old capped the evening with her now-signature mic drop: shedding the wig mid-set, much to the delight of the crowd. It was equal parts showmanship and statement. Talent first, expectations last.

Read more about Molly’s show here.

Just when it seemed like Teragram Ballroom might finally get a breather after Snocaps rolled through, December had other plans. Enter The Mountain Goats, who slid into the spot for a two-night stand and kept the indie-folk torch burning just west of downtown L.A.

Led by the endlessly animated John Darnielle, the long-running outfit played to packed houses eager for his singular blend of sharp-eyed storytelling, emotional left turns, and between-song monologues that blend stand-up with group therapy. Darnielle remains the gravitational center of The Mountain Goats’ universe, a frontman whose enthusiasm is so genuine it borders on contagious.

Whether he was standing alone in the spotlight for stripped-down moments like “Onions” and “Against Pollution,” or locking in with the full band on cathartic favorites like “Damn These Vampires” and “Great Pirates,” Darnielle carried the room with ease. It was the kind of performance that reminds you, after decades on the road, The Mountain Goats are still filling rooms with stories that land and songs that stick.

That second Friday of December went from “what are we doing tonight?” to a full-blown send in record time, courtesy of Orgy.

If you were anywhere near a radio (or a pair of JNCOs) in 1998, you’ll remember how the L.A.-bred industrial-metal outfit blasted into the mainstream with their chrome-plated, headbang-ready take on New Order’s “Blue Monday.” And in case anyone was wondering: yes, it still absolutely rips more than 25 years later.

Jay Gordon and company brought the throwback heat to the Whisky a Go Go, turning the Sunset Strip institution into a sweaty time capsule. Before the inevitable “Blue Monday” eruption, the band breathed fresh life into old favorites like “Stitches” and “Revival,” proving these songs haven’t aged so much as they’ve just grown sharper around the edges.

When “Blue Monday” finally hit, Gordon flipped the script entirely, transforming the floor into a communal sing-along. He wandered the room like a ringmaster, passing the mic from fan to fan in a gloriously chaotic game of rock ’n’ roll popcorn. Voices cracked, fists flew, and for a few loud, neon-lit minutes, it felt like the 90’s never really left. 

They just learned to drink better beer.

Cory Henry first turned heads as the secret weapon behind Snarky Puppy’s cosmic jazz-funk machine, but it didn’t take long for the Brooklyn native’s ambition and sheer musical gravity to outgrow even one of the most fearsome instrumental outfits on the planet. 

Some players are built to be side men. Cory Henry was not.

Now, nearly eight years into a flourishing solo career, Henry has carved out a lane that feels entirely his own. He’s a world-class keyboardist, a soul-deep gospel singer, and the architect behind one of L.A.’s most unique recurring live experiences: “The Church Experience” at The Miracle Theater in Inglewood.

Since spring 2025, Henry has been calling South L.A. to service one Sunday night each month, drawing in equal parts music lovers and spiritual seekers for his version of a church gathering. It’s an experience built on groove, testimony, and joy. December’s edition leaned into the season, wrapping Christmas staples and Stevie Wonder classics around Henry’s own songs like hymns for the modern age.

The night came with a little extra holy fire thanks to special guest Lalah Hathaway, who stepped out for a brief but jaw-dropping appearance. After much hype from Cory, she unleashed her signature polyphonic singing, leaving the room stunned in her wake.

If you slept on Cory Henry’s residency in 2025, consider this your gentle warning. There’s more communion coming in 2026.

Nothing quite screams “Silent Night” like a room full of jet-lagged international travelers losing their minds to Israeli psytrance in a Hollywood nightclub…

Okay, so maybe it’s not in the traditional Christmas songbook, but for everyone in town who wasn’t here for family dinners, awkward sweaters, or mistletoe obligations, it was a solid alternative. If you’re going to skip the holiday altogether, you might as well do it properly, with Infected Mushroom.

On an otherwise quiet, candlelit night in L.A., Erez Eisen and Amit Duvdevani turned AVALON into a full-blown late-night vortex. Between their live band set and an extended DJ session that stretched deep into the morning, the duo had bodies bouncing, eyes wide, and the dance floor locked in a collective trance. It was festive in its own warped way. Less chestnuts roasting, more lasers slicing.

I wandered into The Lodge Room in Highland Park for what was supposed to be a night with my all-time favorite MC, Chali 2na, locking back in with the incomparable Cut Chemist on the ones and twos. That alone would’ve been more than enough. 

Then the night took a hard left into something extra special: a mini Jurassic 5 reunion (call it Jurassic 2.5) with Marc 7 emerging alongside two of his closest L.A. hip-hop co-conspirators.

As a lifelong J5 devotee, I completely lost whatever composure I had left when Chali, Marc, and Cut dug back into West Coast canon like “What’s Golden,” “Quality Control,” and “Concrete Schoolyard.” It was one of those moments where the crowd reaction tells you everything you need to know: pure joy, instant recognition, and a room full of heads mouthing every word like scripture. I was very much not alone.

If the universe is feeling generous, maybe this post-Christmas surprise nudges Akil, Zaakir, and DJ Nu-Mark back into orbit for a proper Jurassic 5 gathering at some point. If not? That’s okay. We’ll always have this night — the kind I’m still replaying in my head, over and over and over again.

Thanks to my iPhone’s RAW mode pulling overtime, I’ll also have a stack of crisp, clear photos ready to jog the memory whenever nostalgia comes calling.

The Roots’ New Year’s Eve double-header at Walt Disney Concert Hall has quietly become one of L.A.’s most dependable year-end traditions. And somehow, it still feels like a secret.

On paper, a brash, proudly Philadelphian hip-hop institution playing one of the most pristine classical venues in the country might sound like a square-peg situation. But that illusion fades fast once you remember just how deeply Black Thought, Questlove and company have embedded themselves into the L.A. musical ecosystem. Their ongoing relationship with the LA Phil has produced some of the city’s most memorable genre-smashing moments, including the annual Roots Picnic at the Hollywood Bowl — a late-spring marathon that doubles as a rap-world summit, with The Roots serving as the tightest house band imaginable.

New Year’s Eve, though, is a different animal. No orchestra, no guests or frills. Just The Legendary Roots Crew owning the stage inside Disney Hall. The 7 p.m. matinee was a masterclass in groove, intellect, and sheer feel, as the band moved effortlessly through beloved staples like “You Got Me,” “The Seed (2.0),” and “Proceed.” Every note landed with clarity, every rhyme cut deep, and every beat felt like it belonged exactly where it was.

I would’ve happily stayed put for the late show and rung in 2026 right there, surrounded by that sound, that band, and that unmistakable Roots energy. If there’s a better way to close out a year in Los Angeles, I haven’t found it yet.

There’s a long, winding, very-on-brand story behind how Neil Young officially earned his place in The Charcoal Club. Like most good tales, it starts small — with my parents backing my Kickstarter campaign in December 2024 — and snowballs from there.

That initial show of faith preceded a perfectly timed opportunity to photograph Neil in broad daylight (a rare gift), unobstructed by his conductor’s hat and looking every bit like the folk-rock oracle we all know and revere. Fast forward a bit, and that image (finally) made its way into charcoal form, eventually landing above the fireplace in my childhood home, just in time for my family’s Hanukkah celebration (as requested).

A family wish fulfilled, a little creative destiny realized, and an art piece that now carries meaning far beyond the board it’s drawn on. It’s one of those moments where process, timing, and heart all line up just right.

If you want the full version of how it all came together (not just the CliffNotes), the captions in the Instagram post below tell the whole story.

Whatever your appetite for details here, the result is the same: a determination to fulfill a family wish, leading to an art piece of which I’m now proud on so many levels.

And if you’re feeling inspired and want Neil watching over your home or office, prints and canvas versions are available in my Etsy shop.

For all the latest updates, follow The Charcoal Club on Instagram, TikTok, X, Threads and Facebook.

(Also, if you’re interested in commissioning me for a custom piece, please reach out! A direct reply to this email will do.)

John C. Reilly plays master of ceremonies for a stacked, big-hearted benefit featuring Dawes, Aloe Blacc, Brandon Flowers (The Killers), Jenny Lewis, Lord Huron, and more. The night marks a year since the devastating L.A. fires and turns remembrance into action, with music doing what it does best: bringing people together for a good cause.

Dave Grohl and the Foos roll back into L.A. for a benefit show in support of Hope United. Expect volume, catharsis, and the kind of communal roar that only a Foo Fighters show can deliver.

The annual hit parade returns with Green Day, Cage the Elephant, Twenty One Pilots, Sublime, and Good Charlotte, the latter playing L.A. for the first time in a decade. Emo elders, rejoice.

Let’s not overthink this one. If you’re ready to sing every word of “Peaches & Cream” at full volume, you already know where you’re supposed to be.

Cory Henry calls the congregation back to Inglewood for his monthly Church Experience. How many bodies are invited? Everybody. How many souls are leaving unchanged? Zero.

A special hometown night with L.A. indie-pop favorites Cannons. Expect dreamy grooves, a room full of people swaying in unison, and a flock of hot dog carts outside on Hollywood Boulevard afterward.