Although they hail from Great Britain, for me Echo and the Bunnymen will always embody sunny beaches. Growing up in Los Angeles meant going to the ocean whenever my mom got time off work, blasting the legendary post-punk band the entire drive. Cruising down Pacific Coast Highway meant lush pianos, moody guitar riffs, and the rich full-bodied vocals of Ian McCulloch. As we pulled up to the beach, we’d pass a green-trimmed ranch style building that was constantly going out of business, but my mom insisted this place was once the Strand, the only cool venue around, Torrance’s equivalent of the Bronze from Buffy the Vampire Slayer in the ’80s. It was there that she saw her favorite band, Echo and the Bunnymen, five times. It was where she swore she jumped onstage and danced next to Ian McCulloch. On those overcast mornings I’d taste the salty air as we passed the forgotten structure, and my mom would smile as McCulloch’s voice echoed during “Lips Like Sugar.” I could see it: smoky eye shadow, marquee lights, bright tutus and all. CAMERON CROWELL