By Richard Rushfield
Isn’t that nice? The Paris Review came to Los Angeles! They tore themselves away from talking about existence with Jean Cocteau and Jean-Paul Sartre to visit little ol’ us. Los Angeles must be getting to be sumptin if the Paris Review is coming to town.
And what do you do when you come to Los Angeles? You visit the House of Pies of course. Because you know, it’s not all just Kardashians here. And here’s what they found:
There are no lyrics in the Friends of Dean Martinez’s “House of Pies.” Instead of vocals, an electric guitar plucks the melody in sync with a heavy-bottom bass. It isn’t a catchy melody. There isn’t much to it. The tune mostly sets a mood. Under the guitar, brushes make slow circles across a snare drum, and a high lap steel whines its laconic counterpoint, casting a spell, like when heat and blinding sunlight make everything slow and heavy.