Calvin Harris’s jokes absolutely bombed onstage, Friday night at the Echo. in his debut LA performance, the crowd turned tangibly hostile during his monologues about “Fruitenant Captain Zesty” and Indie 103, angrily throwing ice, crumpled flyers and whatever else their pissed-off little fingers could find, as the 6-plus-foot Harris drunkenly mumbled through jokes that were falling on deaf, deaf ears. For five minutes, each and every time, he’d ramble on and on and on and on, and people weren’t having any of it, threatening to head for the door on each failed punchline.

Then he’d twist a knob and motherfuckers danced like they had just grown legs. Then the bottom would fall out of hits like “Acceptable in the ’80s” and motherfuckers would dance even harder. Giant smiles and waving hands seemed to pogostick to the ceiling like some little hipster, …