On a dank Wednesday night I find myself in the very back of Heartland, a new and tiny performance gallery on Roosevelt and 53rd in the former Andrews Guitars Lutherie Workshop. The venue has only been around a few months but I feel as if I’m in the hipster nexus of the universe. The seventy-five-plus audience members are dressed in dark colors, skullcaps and thick-framed glasses while ethereal rock music emanates from the stage. I can see nothing but bodies and none of them the performers. The floor is concrete, painted grey, the walls a plain white. I am waiting to hear the all-female Seattle band La Luz. It’s their west coast tour kick-off show. 

I’d waited out the beginning of the show at The Monkey Pub across the street where, not coincidentally, the members of La Luz were hanging. I talked with a few friends at another table about bands, the art of bar tending and working on literary magazines. But I made it to Heartland at 10pm or so, getting stamped for the suggested $7-$15 donation for the sold out show.

When Mega Bog finishes the first set – featuring a hazy saxophone and beautiful female vocals – the lights go on and the second band begins to set up. I make it to the front of the place, seeing makeshift sound absorbers on the ceiling, ratty backdrop curtains hiding a staircase. It’s strange. This is a venue known by very few in Seattle, yet I was invited here via Facebook (with the header: ALL AGES NO BOOZE/NO BULLIES). It’s also strange because I’ve never heard of Heartland yet I live 3 blocks away. This is the Seattle music scene, or at least a slice of it: sublimely secretive, yet with an undercurrent of everyone is welcome – come as you are, right? – though, admittedly, I feel somewhat out of place typing notes on my Blackberry.

Shana Cleveland, lead singer of La Luz, walks by and we exchange Hello’s. She is dressed in a red and black outfit and looks dignified as always. “You’re going on a west coast tour soon?” I ask.

“Tomorrow,” she says. “First to Eugene, then to L.A. and back.”

“Are you worried? Excited?”

“Oh, not worried. I could see if you haven’t been on tour before it could be worrisome, but no, I’m not worried.”

She retreats into the green room up a few steps, I notice a stove up there and don’t look any further. It’s then Heatwarmer takes the stage, the place again full of people. Heatwarmer’s music is pushed by video-gamey synths and hard drum kicks. The falsetto voice of the male lead singer is quite pleasant above it all. I go outside for a cigarette amidst the raindrops for a breather.

The smell of pizza is in the air from a spot across Roosevelt. A few cars drive by, splashing puddles. The smoke wafts into the dark sky. Music from Heartland meets it and travels in all directions. I go back inside. When the set ends, I find a place on the eastern wall as La Luz starts to set up. “Can we get lots of reverb on the vocals?” asks Cleveland into the mic. All four women seem confident and happy to be there. There is a real chemistry to how they comport themselves on stage. It’s captivating. They begin, opening with an instrumental track: their already-signature surf rock sound fills the room. Slinky high ends. Hard, in the pocket low ends – the bass playing is particularly hypnotizing. As an audience member, you are in a dream-state and La Luz has put you there. They make it look easy. “Ooo–ah–ooo,” the foursome sing in unison. “Baby, with your hand in mine… Ooo–ah–oooo.”

“Is it too crowded for a soul train?” asks Cleveland from center stage well into the second tune, to which half the crowd says “NO!” and the other half responds unsure. But everyone sways and dances, some pushing to the very front in a friendly mob. But it doesn’t matter. In this place, accompanied by the music of La Luz, everyone seems graceful.