Hedwig and the Fabulous Inch

Last week I was invited to see a live performance of Hedwig and the Angry Inch by my band's guitar player, Troy, who was in the show.  Meet Troy:

He says hey.



For those of you who don't know, Hedwig is a rock musical about a transgender singer who undergoes a sex change operation in order to marry an American soldier and get over the Berlin Wall.  The operation is botched and Hedwig is left with an "angry inch", hence the title.  Hedwig sings emotionally charged and beautifully written songs about the search for her other half; her true love. 

Troy is an amazing guitar player and Hedwig is my favorite musical of all time, so my hopes were high.  However, when Dan and I arrived at the venue, a few doubts started creeping up. 

The open door on the right was the entrance. Upon entering, we found this:

Ok, art gallery for a lobby - getting cooler. 

In the back was a mini courtyard with a BYOB arrangement.  Very nice.  Any place I don't have to hide the ever-present flask in my purse, is my kind of place.

She knows what I'm talking about.  The guy in the hat?  Maybe not.

I was still a tad dubious, but the small part of me that wishes I was living in New York was loving the vibe of the place.  Then... drum roll... Adam Enright walked on stage and Hedwig had arrived.  The whole performance was perfection.  I was transfixed the entire time and affected for hours afterward.

I come from an old-fashioned land where taking photos or video of live theater performances is a no-no, but I did find some video on Youtube, which I don't feel too guilty sharing.  Enjoy.

In Defense of Hollywood

My friend Patrick has done it again.  That is, re-named his band.  (Band names post here.)  Nerds & Jerks is the new name and it's lasted for a few months - I think this one is official.

The newly-ish christened Nerds & Jerks has entered a songwriting contest to win a trip to LA.  Excellent.  The song had to be about West Hollywood. In it, Patrick sings that Hollywood is "dirty and bleak."  While he has a point about a certain stretch of Hollywood Boulevard that contains the Walk of Fame and is perpetually flooded with tourists and all the "low-lifes" who prey on them, that is not all my neighborhood has to offer.

CLICK HERE to see the video of their song and I suppose, if you must, click the vote button to show a little support - for the band, not their dismal view of my neighborhood.  Sigh.

I must admit that Hollywood does not have the best reputation as far as LA neighborhoods go.  When we were first looking to move out of downtown, Hollywood is the one place I was sure I wanted to steer clear of.  So, of course, that is where we ended up.  However, it turns out Hollywood is fabulous and I absolutely love living here. 

I spend just about every day exploring Griffith Park, Runyon Canyon, and the Hollywood Hills - all without ever having to get into my car.  I can also walk to a ton of bars, restaurants, retail shops, the post office, the farmers' market, and the all-important Trader Joe's.

So, aside from the nightlife, which is always "poppin" as the kids these days may or may not say, Hollywood is a land where, as evidenced by my phone, morning workouts and afternoon walks look like this:

and this:

And grocery shopping looks like this:

Nothin' but love.

Conversations with Art

"You may want to consider new uniforms for your Ultimate Frisbee team.  Just a suggestion."

"Well, f*ck you too."

Drinking in LA

There is no question that drinking in LA is a lot easier than drinking in Utah, for instance.  A few years ago I was driving back from Park City, Utah after attending the Sundance Film Festival when my car broke down.  Did I mention that I was alone and it was in the middle of a snow storm?  I ended up staying in a tiny hotel in the middle of nowhere. I will sum up my mental state by saying that I really could have used a drink.  Did I get my drink? No. It was after 11pm and the gas station (the only sign of life for miles) couldn't sell me any by law.

So, drinking in LA. Easier? Yes.  Cooler? Also yes.  This town is filled with mixologists (yes, that's a real job) and impressively creative bartenders.  I have looked down to find everything from bacon to basil in my glass.

Last week I went to Ford's Filling Station in Culver City and ordered:

This is a shot of jalapeno-infused tequila served with a PBR topped with a jalapeno "funnel". Surprisingly delicious.

My friend Gabrielle ordered a thyme infused drink that was freshness in a glass.

Adding to the cool factor, Ford's Filling Station is owned by Harrison Ford's son, Ben Ford, who is a brilliant chef.  (The bacon-wrapped dates were to die for!)

Cheers!

My Talented Friends Part Five

Most of "My Talented Friends" happen to be musicians; however, I do know a few people outside of the sound booth.  Maybe even a designer or two. Maybe even the designer Debbie Talanian of stella proseyn.  (You may remember Debbie from last year's post about Brenna Whitaker.)

A few years ago Debbie gave up a successful career as a journalist to pursue her passion for fashion.  (Debbie, if you're reading this, I'm sorry about the rhyming.)  The result is stella proseyn, her independent design label. 

She is founder, owner, and designer of stella proseyn, a rising star the LA fashion scene that focuses on using locally sourced and environmentally conscious materials to produces such minimalist masterpieces as:

{ the rorschach tee. one of my favorites. }

Another favorite of mine is Debbie's version of a tribute: the "Howl" wrap skirt. 

Allen Ginsberg never looked so good, right?

{ this is what hand-made in LA means. }

If you want to get your hands on some of Debbie's fabulous threads, you can head downtown this Saturday or Sunday to the Unique LA spring show.

If you can't make it to the show, definitely stop by her website.  And while you're at it, you could like her Facebook page too.

To Those Who Wait

Organ. Trombone. Saucy redhead.   Pair with soul-stirring performances of  insightful music and you have the experience that is Ruby Friedman Orchestra.  I first saw RFO at the Bordello Bar in downtown over 2 years ago.  I fell in love immediately.  Being transported by raw and penetrating verse can do that to a girl.

Last week I went to see RFO perform at The Hotel Cafe on the eve of their entry into the studio to record their debut album.  It was a stripped-down acoustic set that packed a full Ruby punch.

The fact that they still have not released an album has been a source of consternation for me since that night at the Bordello.  Every time I check their Facebook page I gasp, "Still?!?!"  When will they appease the frothing masses? (Read: the frothing me.)  Apparently, Summer 2012.  They are waiting until 6 months before the end of the world to release their debut album.  Honey badger doesn't give a shit. (Ruby would be the honey badger in this scenario.)

I have heard that good things come to those who wait.  In this instance, I'm inclined to believe it.  Here's a little something from last week's show to hold us over.


Like Ruby and the boys on Facebook.

Melancholy for Melancholia

I like reading up on the Oscars to see all the pretty dresses.  I often internally contest the worthiness of the nominees and ultimately I don't care who wins.  Billy Crystal hit the nail on the head when he called the Academy out for the ridiculousity of millionaires giving each other gold trophies.  I may have added the ridiculous part, but it was implied.

That being said, how did Melancholia get completely ignored?  Seriously.  Melancholia was my favorite movie of the year, followed closely by Midnight in Paris, which also got much less attention than the big winner, The Artist.  I saw The Artist and enjoyed it but, in my opinion both Melancholia and Midnight in Paris had much, much more to offer.

I saw Melancholia twice in the theater and could have seen it twice more.  I found it beautiful, original, and impactful.  I've always been a fan of sensationalist end-of-the-world movies, but this affected me in a much different way because it did not take the usual "panic in the streets" approach.  There was a sense of dread permeating the entire film, but it was tempered with a calm that arose partially out of the solitude of the characters. Melancholia perfectly blended depression and dread with beauty and acceptance. Every time I think about Melancholia, the feelings I had in the theater immediately return almost like sensory memories.

The film opens as an opera would with an overture.  The haunting music is from Wagner's opera Tristan and Isolde and plays over a montage of ultra slow-motion, almost still-frame shots that foreshadow the coming events of the film.


Both Kirsten Dunst and Charlotte Gainsbourg were wonderful in the film, but I found Gainsbourg especially so.  She conveyed the internal conflict of the character brilliantly.  Gainsbourg, the daughter of Serge Gainsbourg, is - like her father - a musician as well as an actor.  I leave you with a song...

My Talented Friends Part Four

Most of you know that I joined a country band, The Hixters, last year.  Best. Decision. Ever.  It has brought nothing but fun and love into my life.  This post is not about the Hixters, but don't worry, I will be writing a lot more about us in the future.  This post is about a friend I met through the Hixters: the handsome, sweet, funny, and yes - talented - Justin Carter.

Justin has a voice.  Does he ever have a voice.  He has been a contestant on American Idol, Star Search, and X Factor, but this year he decided to do his own thing.  Best. Decision. Ever.  Here is the video for his song "Circles" which was released after Christmas...

I played the keys for Justin on Sunday during his performance for talent manager Mara Santino's birthday party at the W Hotel. 

{ Me and Justin at the Dub }

Now, I have always appreciated the W for sharing the lovely and talented Hollywood jazz maven Brenna Whitaker with this town every Sunday night (for free) and I don't want to bite the hand that feeds me, as it were, but wow.  The sound guys were awful to us! They had all the equipment to accommodate us, but insisted on giving us a hard time.  "We weren't told there would be performers."  "We weren't told there would be a keyboard."  I wanted to ask them if they refuse to use an umbrella when they were not told it would rain.  I wanted to follow that question with something akin to "Roll with the punches, people!  You're supposed to be professionals!"  However, I held my tongue because I recall hearing something once about getting more flies with honey than vinegar.  Sigh.

Justin, being what rock stars are made of, handled himself amazingly well and brought down the house.  

His next performance will be at the Viper Room on January 21st.  If you are in town, you want to be there!  You can follow him on Facebook here and subscribe to his YouTube channel here.

A Tom Waits Kind of Week

I am at the end.  At the end of a Tom Waits kind of week.

Today's Bedhead Theater offering is Mr. Wait's "Christmas Card from a Hooker in Minneapolis." It comes to you raw and after a 3am kind of night.  My beautiful friend Matt Tomas is helping out on piano, so this is Bedhead Theater's very first special guest!  Exciting developments, no?

I had intended this song to be a Christmas present for Matt and if you can look past the fact that it is a month late and Matt had to help me wrap it, I suppose it is.  Merry Christmas, Matt.

Top 5, All Time Favorite... or so

I just watched High Fidelity for the first time in a long time.  Ah, John Cusack.  No one does strung out better.

High Fidelity is all music and lists.  So many lists in that movie.  My favorite list (although not itemized and only a list of 3 instead of the movie's standard "Top 5 All Time Favorite" lists) is Jack Black's character's 3 band names at the end of the movie: Sonic Death Monkey, Kathleen Turner Overdrive, and Barry Jive and his Uptown 5.

My friend Patrick has a similar "problem" deciding on a band name.  In his last 3 shows he performed as Skinny P and the Destroyers; Skinny P and the Birthday Bash; and Skinny P and the Handicaps. (See My Talented Friends Part One.)

Band names are fun, but so darn hard to choose.  You want the name to reflect the music, but also the personality of the band members while making sure that it is memorable and of course, clever in some groupie-procuring way. 

Do you remember being asked how many kids you wanted when you yourself were a kid?  Your answer would be directly correlated to the number of baby names you thought were cool.  "I want 6... Peter, Parker, Posey, Punxsutawney, and Bob."  If I could start as many bands as I have cool names to name them, I would have 4 bands:

1. The Sister Karamazov
2. Fifths and Giggles
3. Color Me Wicked
4. Whole Notes from the Underground

Originally, I had 5, but the 5th was "Tequila Mockingbird" which I thought was so clever.  Yeah.  It turns out that there are bands, restaurants, bars, and design companies with the same name.  Not so clever after all.  Thanks a lot, Google.  I was feeling pretty good about myself today.

Santeria, Santeria, Santeria, let me go!

Yesterday's Bedhead Theater selection was brought to you by "a growing headache, a fading warmth, a sense of regret that should be stronger than it is, and a recurring apocalyptic dream."

Today's selection is brought to you by "OMG, I did karaoke last night for the second time in my life and it may have been a little too fun to not do again.  Who have I become?"  And if you're thinking that the title of this post means that I did Bohemian Rhapsody during the aforementioned karaoke night, you would be right.  I also did Santeria by Sublime.  It went a little somethin' like this:

Here's Something New

For my first post of 2012 I was going to list the things I learned in 2011.  However, despite all of the amazing experiences 2011 granted me, I could only think of one: I learned in the women's locker room at the YMCA that I fully support cosmetic surgery, specifically breast lifts.  Other than that, I'm drawing a blank.

So, instead of rehashing all the glory and pain that was 2011, I'm going to start something new.  Now, everyone knows it's not cool to make New Year's resolutions, so I'm not going to.  Because I am the coolest person you'll find.  For realz, yo!  Chickety check it.  (See?)

This is not a resolution, it's just something new: Bedhead Theater.  For those of you who have been reading my blog since the beginning, you know I love music, but have a discorded love/hate relationship with my own music.  I can go for days without even touching my keyboard.  In an effort to change that, I offer you Bedhead Theater. Every morning I will wake up, roll out of bed and immediately record myself singing and playing a song.  PJs and all.  No procrastination allowed.

I probably won't be sharing every video I make, but I will try to have 2 or 3 a week that are watchable enough to present to my esteemed readers.

Numero Uno: my slow morning spin on "Boston" by Augustana.

Artsy Fartsy

Here's an easy, contention-free question: what is art?  A few months ago I did a post on street art around LA.  I have thought a lot about public art in general and in particular, the Urban Light installation by Chris Burden at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA)...

...and "Bubble Gum Alley" in San Luis Obispo, CA.

The former is high art world approved; the latter may not be considered art at all.  Both installations consist of multiple every day, functional items: lamp posts and bubble gum (okay, and condoms). 

The light installation is beautiful - especially at night; however, I have often thought it a bit boring and safe when looked at as a piece of art.  This is why I thought it would be a good choice to juxtapose against Bubble Gum Alley.  My choice ended up being a bit ironic because it turns out that in his younger years, Chris Burden created some intense and controversial works.  In the 1970s he did a series focused on personal danger in which he was shot in the arm, nailed to a Volkswagen, and shimmied through broken glass with his hands held behind his back.

(Burden's next installation at LACMA is titled Metropolis ii.  It is a sculpture of a city with miniature cars racing through it at 240 miles an hour.   I got a peek at it a few weeks ago, but the last I heard it is still being installed.)

Bubble Gum Alley is not beautiful - I'm betting especially not so at night.  There is a lot of DNA on those walls.  Of course, one can't discuss DNA in art without bringing up photographer Andres Serrano, a controversial, but established artist that uses blood, urine, and semen in his work.  If he can do it, so can all the teenagers in San Louis Obispo.

Bubble Gum Alley is gross, but it's a collective work that has impact.

Urban Light is pretty.  And what's wrong with pretty?

One is made for the public; the other by the public.

Brother Sal & The Devil May Care

This is perhaps the most delayed post of all the delayed posts in all the blogs in all the world.  I first saw Brother Sal & The Devil May Care weeks ago.  I jaunted down to the Piano Bar one Sunday night in October to find Mr. Brother and his blues-meets-country band delivering their "warehouse gospel" to the many delighted souls crammed into the bar. 

I knew immediately that I wanted to tell the world (or, you know, the two of you that read this blog) about my new discovery: Brother Sal, the ivory-tinkling, husky-voiced troubadour from Virginia.  However, as the two of you know, I did not.  I have gone to see Brother Sal again since that night in October I still did not write about it. 

Here's the problem: I just get too damn busy having a good time. Too busy reveling in the melodies and effect of the songs to pay attention to the titles and specific content so I can accurately detail them here. Too busy dancing to adjust my camera settings, so I end up with blurred pictures like these:

{ The ghost-like figure on the right is Michael Starr, an amazing fiddler.  His fiddling deserves its own post. }

Brother Sal has a gift.  A gift in which my ears and my bootie delight.  However, as with all gifts, it comes with a curse.  Well, a curse on this blog anyway.  His gift disarms and distracts until I am left with only memories of good times and warm impressions of the experience.  I suppose as the South did to the North, I will have to cede to the old adage, "Details be damned."  That is an old adage, right?

So, there you have it.  A half-assed review of a full-assed band.  Full and round and firm. As all good asses should be.  I'm speaking metaphorically, of course.

http://www.facebook.com/thebrothersal1
http://thebrothersal.com/

P.S. Brother Sal performs every Saturday and Sunday night at the Piano Bar.

P.P.S. I still need suggestions for my Drunk v. Sober comparative!  So far I have LACMA, reading, writing, and running.

Well, Alrighty Then.

Wednesday night I grabbed my new friend Amy and went to see a friend of a friend's band at Three of Clubs.  Upon our arrival we were greeted with $4 whiskey specials and this:

Yeah.

Dayna, the aforementioned friend of a friend, is a trumpet player.  I love seeing bands with different instrumentation, so when I got the Facebook invite from her band Alright Alright I decided that it could be an interesting show.  These images on their profile didn't hurt either.         

With an energetic frontman and tight arrangements, they did not disappoint.  Amy and I were treated to a night of hopping, hip-popping, fun music.

I really, really wanted to get up and dance because it was dancing music, but the $4 whiskey failed me.  No one else was dancing and I just don't have that "first on the dance floor" gene.  This round goes to you, self-consciousness. 



{ Amy. And people not dancing. }

 Now, I knew that Dayna is a trumpeteer - or as Alright Alright's Facebook page explains, she is the "blast".  What I didn't know is that she is a triple threat:

{ "Blast" }

{ Keys }

{ Back-up Vocals }

 Oh, wait.  Make that - a quadruple threat.

{ Shaker, baby. }

I'm a sucker for harmonies and redheads.  Alright Alright happens to have two redheads.  The other redhead is A Girl Named Ryan who contributes killer harmonies.  The girl can really sing.  She can rock a mean beat on the tambourine as well.

And a fun night was had by all.

Cheap Chick

I spent Sunday acquiring lots of snazzy - and free - clothes at my friend Abby's Bitch n' Swap. 

In my last post I mentioned that I would do a photo shoot to show off some of the pieces from the swap and I will do so.  Soon.  It might be a week or so because I need to meet up with Stephanie, my friendly neighborhood photographer.  Also, I just did the Jet Rag post and I don't want to saturate this blog with tons of pictures of me, me, me.  I mean, that's what Facebook is for.

Until then, here is a sneak peek.  The t-shirt and bag I wore today to the $2 theater in Pasadena today are from the swap.  $2 movies and $0 clothes. Yes, I am a cheap-ass chick.


{ The t-shirt reads, "Canada: Fits your budget!" }


Although I did not intend to deal with fashion in this blog, it seems like a "cheap chick clothes" series is developing.  At some point in the future I also plan on doing a post about what the kids these days are wearing to rock shows.  "The future" in this instance refers to a distant and fanciful time when I have a camera that doesn't suffer from low-light performance anxiety.

While I'm on the subject of future posts I want to tell you about another series I have just started working on that will be titled: Drunk v. Sober.  (Obviously, the term "working on" should be taken with a grain of margarita salt.)  I will engage in 5 activities - first drunk, then sober - and write about how the experiences differ based on my level of sobriety. 

1. Walking around the Los Angeles County Museum of Art
2. Running in the morning
3. Reading
4. Blogging (oh, boy)
5. TBD

I am taking suggestions for the fifth activity.  I know commenting here is kind of a pain, but if you want to offer a suggestion just select "anonymous" and then sign your name in the comment.  Or you can write me on Facebook.

The Wrong Shapes, The Right People

Before I get back into the Los Angeles music scene, I want to tell you about a little taste of the Boston music scene I had while on my latest trip back east.

In August while at my friend Shirley's wedding,  I was seated at a table with a lovely and - as it turns out - talented couple, Rachel Arnold and Bo Barringer.  Rachel is from California living in Massachusetts.  My husband Dan is from Massachusetts living in California.  When you're at a wedding where you only know a few people, that is enough to get a conversation going.  Am I right or am I right? Right, right, right. (Name that movie.)

Rachel and Bo are musicians who happened to be playing a show in Boston right around the time we were planning on being there for another friend's wedding.  (Oh, the age where everyone you know is either getting married or having a baby.)  October rolled around and we were lucky enough to make it to their show with our friend Dan in tow.

For future reference:
 

{Husband Dan}



{Friend Dan}


The band, The Wrong Shapes, consists of Rachel playing the cello and Bo playing the guitar and singing.  It was a unique - and considering that there was no percussion - a surprisingly rhythmic show.

Here is a clip of one of their songs that was stuck in my head for days.  (Rachel does some really cool things on the cello that my lame phone mic does not do justice.)

The show was on a Tuesday night that proved to be anything but mundane.  Not only was the music intriguing, the crowd was entertainment all on its own.  One guy was so drunk that he was stumbling around the bar knocking over people and things - including a keyboard while it was being played on stage.  Did I mention that he was 6'5" and 350+ pounds?  He actually rammed into us moments before this picture was taken.  We recovered nicely, no?

{Me, Bo, Rachel, Husband Dan}

Another guy was asleep at the bar  When he woke up he lit a cigarette, which is of course illegal.  Later in the night the lead singer of the band that was on after Rachel and Bo started flailing and tried to jump off the stage, but ended up shattering one of the black lights they had set up and falling flat on his face on the floor in front of the stage.  

Friend Dan didn't miss a beat.  He casually retrieved his phone from his pocket and snapped a picture of the guy face down on the floor.  I was not as quick on my feet.  Maybe that's because I was helping friend Dan celebrate his recent job offer by drinking lots of vodka and beer.  When a friend needs help, I help.

So, there you have it.  A Tuesday night in Boston.  Who knew?

Every Day I'm Shufflin'

For those of you who hate vacation slide shows, look away.  Seeing as I have not written in months, I feel I should update you on where I've been before jumping back into the nitty gritty of the LA life and music scene.  You might be shocked to discover that during my absence, I went on a cross country road trip.  Again.  Ok, you are probably not that shocked. 

September to October. From the west coast to the east coast and back again.

Our first stop was Fallen Leaf Lake (Tahoe) to visit Matt, who is still wearing his flip-flops.

The first night we were there I got drunk and jumped in the lake around midnight. Have you ever been so cold you can barely breathe?  I have.

From Tahoe we booked it across country as fast as we could to make it to our friend Stephanie's wedding on Cape Cod.

It was a lovely affair and the only wedding I have ever attended where there was time for a walk on the beach.



While in New England we visited friends and family.



{This is Meg. You can blame her encouragement for me jumping back into the blogging saddle.  Thanks, Meg!} 



And, seeing as it is fall and I am getting super old, we did some foliage-ogling and leaf-peeping.

{I'm doing all black and white photos in this post, so you'll just have to imagine the beautiful, vibrant, inspiring, and all round life-changing colors.}

After rushing across the country from west to east, it was nice to take our time from east to west.  In addition to our planned stops, we were able to make stops on a whim.  Among those spontaneous stops were the Montpelier Mansion in Maryland...

George Washington's childhood home in Virginia... 

George Washington's sister's home....

And while we were at it, George Washington's mother's home...

Savannah, Georgia. (Savannah was sort of planned in that we were intending to stop there for breakfast, but we ended up staying most of the day ... on a whim.  Therefore, it fits into the spontaneous category.)

The Oak Alley Plantation in Louisiana.

Among our more planned stops were Washington DC...

{Air and Space Museum}

{The hat Abraham Lincoln was wearing when he was shot at the American History Museum. Whaaaa?}



St. Augustine, Florida - the oldest city in America...

{This fort is made entirely of seashells.}

{Seriously.}

I had not been to Florida for about 10 years.  It was so nice to go swimming in warm water for a change. 

That is until my foot was bitten by a small sand shark.  It was just a scratch, but it was enough to keep me out of the water and ready to head west.

After the shark attack (and I am in no way at all using the term in an undeserved sensationalist fashion), we made our way to New Orleans to eat some beignets and tour the Degas House.



After that we had planned on stopping in San Antonio and Austin, Texas, but there were some complications, so we headed straight to Phoenix to visit Dan's brother.  Stopping only at roadside rest areas.

{I am conditioned to obey. And it was the only thing I had with me.}

And now... now we're home. 

I need a nap.