12 posts tagged “los angeles”

Last night we met a friend for dinner at Malo. She brought along some friends that were visiting from New York. They brought a friend who has been in L.A. for 5 months. We did an informal around-the-table canvas of what everyone does: tv producer, publicist, internet developer, fund-raiser, etc. When we got to the gentleman on my left, the one who has been in L.A. for 5 months, he said, "Oh, I'm in a sitcom."

My brilliant girlfriend replied, "So you want to be an actor."

He was a bit taken aback, and said, "Well I thought I was one."

She said, "No honey, so many people come out to Los Angeles from New York and I can't tell you how many people I talk to who haven't made it."

At the end of the evening, coming home from the bar down the street, my girlfriend said, "I guess he actually is on a television show, because everyone at the bar knew his name and said hello. But I've never heard of this show, have you? The Class?"

"Isn't that the new sitcom started by the producers of Friends?" I ask.

"Whoa, that's major!"

I'm not sure why our downtown-dwelling friend KC chose to have her birthday party 20 miles away in Westwood. There's no good way to get there from Los Feliz on a Friday night, so we met up with the party at the end of a Persian dinner, in time for the present derobing (she and her coworkers are the wardrobe crew for a well-known television show, so my poetic license when I say "derobing" instead of "unwrapping" is allowed, if only I hadn't had to explain it here.) We had brought a great gift, an amazing wine carafe my girlfriend found at the MOMA store. It came wrapped in orange and silver, and the hot pink envelope from the birthday card I picked out at Uncle Jer's really fit KC's aesthetic.

MOMA Vin Eau Carafe

Meanwhile, there were a lot of candles and picture frames among the offerings, so we were pleased with our contribution. We were also pleased at the sight of Doughboy's red velvet cakes as the waitstaff brought them to the table. Unfortunately, the party had decided to move on to the W hotel, and so we were recruited to cart the red velvet cakes there. (A dangerous thing, to be sure — we envisioned a scenario where we showed up with only two of the four small cakes left and cream cheese all over our faces.)

We drove to the W hotel, dropped the car at the valet ($20 + tip), and got interrogated by the doorman. We weren't on a list, and everything on Friday and Saturday night is by reservation or invitation only. We managed to talk our way in, but the guy said we weren't allowed to bring the red velvet cakes into the bar. So we had to leave them at the concierge, whose podium bore in brushed steel lettering the single word: "WHATEVER". How corporately rebellious.

We went into the bar area, where a waitress actually asked people to leave a little sofa lounge area that our party had reserved. I wondered momentarily what it must have taken to reserve a spot in this over-the-top bar. I soon found out that the party was required to purchase two bottles of liquor for at least $600.

I know. "What?!?!"

I quickly did the math, and even if we had full representation from the dinner party, each share was going to come out to $50, which meant a $100 bar tab for me and my girlfriend. To give you an idea of the pricing structure, a bottle of Stolichnaya (for which my dog is named), which normally retails in the $25-30 range, cost $300. If you wanted to get really crazy with a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue Label, which normally can go for $160-175, you'll shell out a cool $750 at the W (clearly heavily discounted compared to the Stoli markup).

Our friend explained that there was another friend who was also celebrating her birthday and staying at the W, and that likely she and her friends would cover that tab. If we didn't want in, we could go and order drinks at the bar. We were happy to take that option. We asked if she would like a drink, and she ordered champagne. That, a glass of truly awful Cabernet for me, and my girlfriend's "Blueberry Breeze" martini, cost $42, or roughly the price of our dinner and two glasses of wine before the festivities. And I think the bartendress was stoned.

In the plus column for the evening, I got to meet KC's boyfriend for the first time, and we had a conversation about his experiences in the ER at USC County hospital. It was somewhat unnerving to listen to listen to him casually talk about intubating a man with severe AIDS-complicated pneumonia and thinking, "Bye, do you know you've got a 5% chance of having this tube taken out of you while you're alive?" Eesh. He also talked about his 2 years in the Peace Corps in Honduras. I told him the closest experience I'd had to Honduras was a bad neighborhood in Alhambra.

Years ago, I managed to score tickets to a surprise Beck show at The Knitting Factory in Hollywood. It was a great show (Elliott Smith walked right past my girlfriend — that's how long ago it was). We figured that was the last time we would see Beck at such a small venue. This was confirmed a year or two later when we saw him at the Universal Amphitheatre from the nosebleed section.

Well, let it never be said that Beck has forgotten his 'hood. He played a show last night to a couple hundred people at The Echo in Echo Park (3 blocks from my old apartment). My girlfriend managed to get two tickets via our friend the browser Reload button at the Ticketweb site (even better: no money to Ticketmaster). We got there early enough that we were able to walk right up to the stage. How close were we? This was taken from my cameraphone:

Bottles and cans, clap your hands

We took a walk through our neighborhood Sunday afternoon, and as we were making our way home, my girlfriend suggested we detour down a little-traveled street parallel to ours. We were approaching a house with a fence made of vertical bars around its perimeter when we saw a little dog running toward the corner closest to us. It started barking in a hoarse, pipsqueak voice, running from point to point along the fence, clearly rather put out by our presence.

We laughed a little. We both love dogs and comment on whichever ones we see when we're out. This one was some kind of bizarre mix, like a Yorkshire terrier crossed with a poodle or Brussels Griffon. It was really small—note more than eight pounds—and had curly hair that got in the way of its eyes. The little guy was a strange-looking dog, so we continued to laugh a little.

As we were passing by the fence, my girlfriend said to him, "Oh, you're so cranky!"

He redoubled his efforts, bounding around the front yard, barking up a storm, ricocheting off the fence and generally being pissed off. As we got toward the center of the fence, we were at our closest proximity to him. This infuriated him, and he turned to spin up another furious protest...and ran through what looked like a severely trimmed back, possibly dead rose bush. His barks turned to screams as a branch broke off and stuck to him.

Our smiles immediately dropped. He was yelping and still running around the yard, stuck between a V of branches with thorns on them. "Oh my god," my girlfriend said.

I tried to beckon the little dog over to the fence so I could try to remove the branch, but he wasn't having any of it. He was utterly panicked. We looked to see if anyone inside the house was coming out. Nothing. The screams were loud enough to start drawing the attention of the neighbors. We looked around and shrugged our shoulders, and I thought I was going to have to try to scale the fence to help the little dog. He ran around the corner of the house, still screaming bloody murder, and then it stopped.

"I guess someone in the house got him?" my girlfriend said, I think trying to convince us both.

"I hope he's not dead," I said.

We walked on, unable to really do anything about the situation. By the end of the block we were already chuckling about it, but we still felt bad.

No, not Vox. And no, not Trott. [1]

Voxtrot. As in that hip new brit pop band out of Austin, TX that sounds like Belle and Sebastian, The Smiths, and every other hugely adored indie band you can think of.

We bought tickets the day of, and fuck you very much Ticketmaster. Our $12 tickets each had $9.50 added in service charges. What, did you send an individual messenger to deliver each ticket to the Troubadour box office?

The show itself was quite good. We arrived while the band was just coming on. The place was packed, with everyone looking at everyone else and thinking, "I didn't realize this many people knew about them."

Their songwriting is excellent. Their showmanship will come in time. Lead singer Ramesh Srivastava has a great voice, though it lacks some polish and subtlety, he's got a good indie pop range. Really, the only problem I had was with Ramesh's exuberance. He's like the president of the student body, gangly arms gesticulating wildly during a pep rally for his band. You can tell he's smart. But compare him with Stuart Murdoch from Belle and Sebastian or with Morrissey, and there's a lack of restraint. He's smart, but doesn't come off as clever, because he's literally spewing everything he can think of in between songs.

Maybe enthusiasm is the new cool, and I'm just getting old. I just doubt that Morrissey ever announced the address of an after party during any of his sets.

[1] Dave gets credit for putting 2 + 2 together.

They originally billed it as a wine tasting, but by the time we arrived at Cobras and Matadors just a few blocks from our house last night, it had been reworded as a Wine Pairing. This was their first event,  basically a prix fixe menu of some of their best tapas served with Spanish wines of their recommendation. It wasn't as geared toward wine tasting as the events we've attended at Silver Lake Wine (no anecdotal coverage of the wines themselves), and wasn't as scholarly a review as those we've experienced at the Irregular Wine Tasting at The Echo. It was really about the food:

• Asparagus and goat cheese croquettas (fried...yum!)
• Pork tenderloin with charred apples
• Bacon-wrapped dates stuffed with blue cheese and almonds
• Apple and cinnamon bread pudding with vanilla bean ice cream

Each course was served with something just shy of a full glass of wine, except for the entrée, which came with two glasses. The pairings did a lot to highlight the food. And at $29 a head, it ended up being a really good deal (we've easily dropped twice that at a regular dinner there, for less food and drink.) Recommended! (Just don't eat lunch beforehand.)

Somehow in the feeding frenzy of Ticketmaster.com ordering, I managed to score two loge (lower balcony) seats to the Sufjan Stevens show at the Wiltern. That the seats were on the aisle was a bonus. We arrived during the opening act, My Brightest Diamond, which as best I could tell was a subset of Sufjan's band, but led by his talented backing vocalist and musician, Shara Worden. We caught the last two songs, one of which was a heady cover of a Nina Simone song. The aisle seats paid dividends immediately, because we were able to vault to the upstairs bar before anyone else knew the opening act was over.

The crowd was entirely made up of what my girlfriend affectionately calls "nerdbos" (long 'o'). A nerdbo, as best I have been able to decipher, is a term of semi-endearment referring to a position in the spectrum of nerds to geeks thusly: they are cooler than nerds, but not as internet-centric as geeks. Nerdbos are often seen at other venues in our neighborhood, because they border on hipster. Sufjan Stevens, my girlfriend deemed, is also a nerdbo.

The show began with about fifteen musicians coming out wearing masks and butterfly wings. There was a string section of violins and cellos (or were they violas? I wouldn't know how to tell.) The horn section had trumpets and a trombone. Sufjan himself came out also wearing a mask, but bird wings. He introduced the ensemble as "the majestic songbird and his butterfly brigade."

His album, Illinois, was my favorite of 2005, so I was very familiar with all those songs. Less so the ones from Michigan, which I do own but now view as a warm-up act for the former. I know even less from The Sevens Swans, but the songs are all very accessible: intricate arrangements tending to make full use of the horn and string sections, which die out in time for his soft-spoken vocals. At times the music overwhelmed the vocals.

During The Man of Metropolis Steals Our Hearts, they brought out dozens of inflatable Supermen and tossed them into the audience. It was amazing to see these cartoon characters crowd-surfing below us. However, a lot of people soon realized that the Supermen would be make great concert souvenirs, and merely held on to them. These folk immediately lost "nerdbo" status and were demoted to "downers".

I was happy to see Sufjan mess up a couple of times, only because he's such a prolific songwriter and multi-instrumentalist that it was nice to discover he was actually human. The concert overall was very fulfilling, and he had probably been at the top of my list of favorite artists I haven't seen live. The Wiltern, which I usually hate, ended up working well, especially because we had seats – none of his songs are especially danceable, so it was fine. The crowd was uber-enthusiastic, and the standing ovation at the end of his set was one of the longer ones in my recollection. Nobody sat down until he came out and played a few more songs in the encore.

What are your weekend plans?

My girlfriend is out of town this weekend, visiting her new little niece. You'd think that would mean: party. And in fact, there are opportunities this weekend.

It's a weekend of First Annuals: downtown today they're having the First Annual Detour Fest, featuring acts like Beck, Queens of the Stone Age, Of Montreal, Blonde Redhead, Basement Jaxx, !!!, The Like and more. From that list, the only bands I haven't seen are Of Montreal and Basement Jaxx. Still, the people-watching element would be entertainment enough. But when my girlfriend asked if I was going, I told her it wouldn't be fun without her. Granted, if any of my friends had approached me about going, I'd have considered it. Still, there's another big event going on downtown at Bunker Hill, and the Dodgers-Mets game at nearby Chavez Ravine. Traffic and parking are likely to be hellacious.

Then on Sunday is the First Annual Taste of Los Feliz, which will be held a few blocks from my house. But it's happening a) during the Chargers-Steelers Sunday night football game, b) around the time my girlfriend's flight lands. Downer.

So my weekend is looking considerably more tame: clean the house, sweep and wash the back deck, rake the leaves in the backyard, pick up a few pairs of jeans from Denim Revival (when did they change the name from Denim Doctors???), choose colors to paint the office next weekend, get the dog some exercise and maybe a grooming.

What's your favorite restaurant?

It's too much pressure to decide on one favorite restaurant. There are so many great places in my neighborhood, Los Feliz (and adjoining Silver Lake):

The Alcove – Were we to judge by sheer frequency of visits, The Alcove would win hands-down. Set back from Hillhurst Ave. by a charming patio, it's part café, part American cuisine restaurant. You order at the counter, take a number, and are served your food at one of the patio tables. The most prominent feature is their display case full of scrumptious-looking cakes. I've sampled many of them and can vouch for each. The staff is also exceptionally cheerful.

Vinoteca – A block up Hillhurst and across the street is Vinoteca, technically a wine bar begun by block neighbor Farfalla, they serve food prepared at Tropicalia, the Brazilian restaurant next door. Vinoteca gets the nod for their excellent wine selection, severe lack of seating (there are 4 two-person tables, several 4 person tables, and the bar), and general ambiance—it's darker and more candle-lit than Tropicalia. We frequently stumble from a light meal at Vinoteca to the aforementioned Alcove for a slice of cake.

Malo – It's name means 'bad', but it's so good. The nouveau taqueria just east of Fountain on Sunset has two parts: a dining room (with outdoor patio), and the bar. The bar is where it's at, and you can eat from the full dinner menu there. Any of the carnitas dishes are amazing. It's also worth trying the four varieties of gourmet salsa they serve with freshly-made tortilla chips: the habañero & creme fraiche and tomatillo and hass avocado are my favorites. They don't mess around with girly blended margaritas. It's on the rocks or nothing here. And the jukebox kicks ass.

Blair's – Probably the overall best restaurant in the area, Blair's is a little unassuming place on Rowena that houses some of the best dishes available in Los Angeles. I believe the chef came from downtown's Water Grill, which is L.A.'s best seafood place. Every dish here (that I've had) is a winner. I've overcome my negative associations with this place (having had a bad argument here), but my girlfriend and I still call it "Blaine's", as in Ducky from Pretty in Pink's "BLAINE?!?! That's not a name, that's a kitchen appliance!" But it really is a phenomenal place. I highly recommend the blue lake beans with sausage.

Edendale Grill – A steak and American fare place built in an old firehouse. Good ambiance. The adjoining bar, Mixville, is also great, because they serve Blue Moon beer with orange slices, something I hadn't seen since visiting the midwest.

And that's just for starters. I haven't even mentioned the restaurants on Vermont, or some of the other good ones on Hillhurst (Home, Mexico City, Purans), nor have I gotten into the heart of Silver Lake (Cliff's Edge, Cafe Stella, Koda Sushi).

By the way, this weekend is the Taste of Los Feliz, where a number of these restaurants will be presenting their food. Yum!

Last night we went to our last Hollywood Bowl event of the summer (and just in time – it's getting crisp out there at night). Due to work schedules, as well as my desire to not pay $25 for closer parking (we paid $4 at Hollywood and Highland and paid ourselves $7 for each additional block we had to walk), we got to the show late. The Bowl was as crowded as I had ever seen, and it took us some time to cattle-walk with the other concertgoers up to where our seats were.

Whenever we show up early to the Bowl, we have aisle seating on the long benches. Anytime we're late, we get stuck in the center and have to beg and pardon and climb over and bump our way there, usually knocking over or stepping on whatever people put at their feet. Such was the case last night, and by the time we got settled in to our seats, we were able to hear about 2 and a half songs by the Strokes. At least we've seen them 4 or 5 times before – but never at the Hollywood Bowl.

The gentleman next to me (who must have been in his fifties or sixties) applauded at the end of the set. His wife asked, "Did you like them?" He replied, "No, I'm clapping for them to get off the stage."

So, having sat on the bench for all of ten minutes, we got up to go get drinks. We politely climbed over our bench to the row behind us, having realized that there was nobody in that one (when our own row was filled with people shoulder-to-shoulder). The concession lines were not lines at all. They were crowds. Half of the people in line were just trying to get past the lines to their seats.

One of the early-twentysomething girls behind me said, "That opening band sucked."

I couldn't believe it. How old are these kids? At twenty-two, wouldn't they have grown up on The Strokes? I feel like I grew up on The Strokes, and I'm considerably older. This wasn't just, "The Strokes played a subpar set." This was "I don't know who those guys were, but I didn't like them." Damn.

We ended up switching to a different concession stand (with a more clearly delineated line), and spent the entire 40 minute intermission standing inline for a beer and a sangria. Twenty-six dollars, please. I kid you not. Usually we're allowed to bring our own food and drink, so this was a bit of a shock.

The Tom Petty show was awesome. I don't call myself a fan, in the sense that I don't own any of his albums, but I've always liked his music, and I knew 90% of the songs they played. Jeff Lynne came out to play The Traveling Wilburys' Handle With Care. The biggest surprise of the evening was "the only honorary Heartbreaker in the world," Stevie Nicks coming out for several songs.

One thing I've noticed with both the Tom Petty show and Willie Nelson's performance a couple weeks ago is that these older bands have a real sense of showmanship. They ooze experience when compared to the youngster rock bands I usually go see. There's a distinct difference in quality – and the fact that the entire audience knows the words to most of the songs doesn't hurt.