Last night I made one of my rare pilgrimages west of the 405 for nightlife thanks to a friend’s birthday. I quickly remembered why I don’t go out in the beaches often. Sweet Child O’ Mine, Livin’ on a Prayer, and Don’t Stop Believingare all fine songs but listening to a bunch of drunks screaming the lyrics with their forefinger and pinky raised unironically in the “Rock On” salute makes me want to puke. Then, you’re crushed against a sea of guys with spiked hair, black collared shirts with the vertical stripes, and a lexicon that seems to be mostly “dude”, “dawg”, and “bro” who are all trying to prove they’re having the most fun by screaming the loudest, smiling as broadly as possible, and singing all the lyrics to California Lovin’. I suppose I could just be jaded, and these people arereally having a good time, but it reeks of performativity. Did I also mention that I payed a $5 cover for the opportunity to experience all this? I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: SIT ON IT WESTSIDE.
The point of this article though is the conflicting juxtaposition of Highland Park public relations lately. Friday and Saturday boasted page one, above the fold stories in the LA Times making Highland Park out to be a breeding ground for murderers. However, what I failed to mention in my previous post relating my experience with the LAPD was that while I was waiting for the officer to write my ticket, I leafed through the new issue of Los Angeles Magazine and found that their Street Smart section dedicated two pages to our neighborhood. There I was, a small fish caught in a police dragnet, reading how Highland Park is “officially on the up and up”. Unfortunately, when asked “you live where?” for the third time with It Aint No Fun blaring in my eardrums at the beach bar, no one had seen the LA Magazine piece. Everyone, knew where it was when I referenced the Times story though.
If you happen to read this site and are from out of the area. Treat yourself to the March issue of Los Angeles Magazine, and use it to schedule a day in Northeast. Here’s your itenerary: Grab coffee and a cachito at Antigua Bakery before taking in the views and natural beauty of Debs Park. For lunch, swing into El Huarache Azteca for the adobada and some of the aguas frescas. Spend the afternoon taking in some Los Angeles history at the Lummis House or see if there’s an art gallery exhibition that piques your interest at www.nelaart.com Have dinner at the York and enjoy their beer selection before tipping back a few more at the Verdugo (if you like anything, their license allows them to give it to you ‘to go’). Then, before letting your designated driver hit the road, sober up enjoying either Leo’s Taco Truck on Eagle Rock Blvd. or Tacos La Estrella (four spots in the area). All this and you’ll be out less than $50. Then, you can enjoy empty freeways back to the westside and tell all your friends over brunch the next day how you survived your night east of the 5. Enjoy!
This Presidents Day weekend brought a gaggle of indie rock bands to the venerable Mr. T’s Bowl. My musical tastes are still stuck in 80’s/90’s punk (Social Distortion, Rancid, Dead Kennedy’s, et al.), so I’m not as up to date as I could be on our music scene. Also, as much as I enjoyed the shows, I do have a slight bone to pick with the converted bowling alley: Shouldn’t beers be cheaper than $5 a bottle? I’m all for paying the $12 to support the musicians, but if a bottle of Bud is going to cost more than a pint at the York, I want nicer ambiance than what they provide. Dives are fine, but they’re dives because they’re cheap. Anyhow, my brief impressions of the bands I enjoyed the most:
Les Hormones - The 3 piece San Francisco band played a nice set of very surf/garage-rock. Very raw and very fun. Website
The A-Bones - The Brooklyn headliners of Sunday night take their name from a Trashmen song and boast members of indie rock stalwart Yo La Tengo. Blues inspired indie rock that they self describe as sounding like “like Chan Romero with the Hombres doing Trashmen songs” (you do the cross-referencing on that one) makes for very danceable rock and an extremely fun show. Website
Haunted George - The eponymous artist with another guitarist (George kept rhythm on the drums with his foot) looked like something between the Misfits and Johnny Cash. Haunted George played simple rock music that sounded like a morbid spin on Local H. Songs such as “Pile of Meat” and another with a refrain that asks “Whatcha look like after weeks in a casket?” aren’t exactly innocent, but are way too much fun to be really disturbing. Website
Guilty Hearts - My personal favorite, the local LA band, knew how to play to a crowd. While scoring points with their song “Glassell Park”, the bassist stepped around the chicken wire to make out with a female fan in the front row. The most impressive part of it was that he continued playing straight through the face-sucking. The music wasn’t too bad either: very blues inspired with elements of garage rock and punk. Website
According to the LA Times, the Angelenos in this part of the city don’t think so. Read the attached story and send us your thoughts.
http://www.latimes.com/features/printedition/theguide/la-gd-nightcol24jan24,1,1936553.story
I’ve never experienced this phenomenon, but then again, I might be one of those self-indulgent yuppies the Times (in all it’s countercultural glory) pans as not only narcissistic, but also disgusted by the handicapped. Now in the spirit of full disclosure, I do write for a website dedicated to the neighborhood, which probably lumps me in as part of the problem. (I don’t think Norwalk has much of a neighblog scene.) I also own property, which means in behooves me financially (but would be disgusting in reality) if a Starbucks and Pinkberry open up on all even avenue intersections of Figueroa. Still, part of the experience I have enjoyed in this part of town is a relative lack of anonymity. I see the same people at the dogpark, run into old college friends when I’m not expecting it, and frequently resume conversations with the same people at the York or Antigua. Plus, why the longing for The Wild Hare? I miss it about as much as I miss Toppers in Eagle Rock. They both hold some fond memories for me but their new incarnations improve on what I want in a bar in almost every way. What do you think? Is Highland Park getting (as my grandma would say) “Too big for its britches”, or should the LA Times stick to its above the fold coverage of celebrity DUIs? I don’t mean to be nasty, but coming between me and my 1903 is like walking between a mother bear and her cub…dangerous.
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