So, nearly 4 months in, and only last week did I really take my first legit foray into the Hollywood night life. Despite outward appearances, I'm actually one of the squarer, bad-ass guitar players you'll ever come by. Don't let the long hair fool you. I tend to get my kicks osmotically and observationally.
Anyway, Shawn, Holly's husband, has a band (Daughter's of Mara) that is about to make its major label record debut, so in preparation, they're doing a few shows around town to start up the buzz. Gotta support the brethren, and since it was in W. Hollywood, at a civil hour (9:30), I figured this would be a good show to hit. Shawn's music is, er, how would you say, "aggressive" to put it mildly. And since Bubba is the Queen of 70's "wuss" rock, I figured I'd best fly solo on this one. She agreed.
So, as luck would have it, the show was at the infamous Viper Room. For the uninformed, the Viper Room is a notorious Sunset Strip rock and roll club, maybe a block from the Whiskey, and smack dab in the middle of bumpin' Sunset. Before I get into the Viper Room proper, a few comments on Sunset. I don't know if I just watched a few too many Guns 'n Roses videos as a kid or something, but my preconceived notion was that Sunset would be like Times Square (circa the 1980's) west. You know, real seemy and treacherous. Strip clubs, dive bars, trouble on every corner. Well, there ARE bars, strip clubs, etc., but it's not seemy at all. In FACT, it's downright, borderline chi-chi. Put it this way, most of these places have valet parking. I don't recall CBGB's offering that service back in the day. This isn't a complaint, just an observation.
So, I park my car, or, "Jeeves" parked my car more appropriately, and I made my way to the door of the club. Much to my surprise, it had a velvet rope. Been a while since I'd suffered that humiliation. Ah, the good old days. So the doorman is gnarly enough looking I guess. Spiked hair, some combination of tatts and piercings, requisite black clothes of some form or other. He just lacked the imposing air I would've anticipated. I want my doormen/bouncers coming in at like, 6'6 250, and looking like they just got out of the joint, and they were given the job because they stopped the club owner from getting shanked last year. I want to feel a sense of accomplishment when I get past a doorman. Like I just looked the devil in the eye, and he blinked first. Alas, this chap checked my name for his list, gave me the hi sign, told me to enjoy the show, and off I went.
Anyway, Shawn, Holly's husband, has a band (Daughter's of Mara) that is about to make its major label record debut, so in preparation, they're doing a few shows around town to start up the buzz. Gotta support the brethren, and since it was in W. Hollywood, at a civil hour (9:30), I figured this would be a good show to hit. Shawn's music is, er, how would you say, "aggressive" to put it mildly. And since Bubba is the Queen of 70's "wuss" rock, I figured I'd best fly solo on this one. She agreed.
So, as luck would have it, the show was at the infamous Viper Room. For the uninformed, the Viper Room is a notorious Sunset Strip rock and roll club, maybe a block from the Whiskey, and smack dab in the middle of bumpin' Sunset. Before I get into the Viper Room proper, a few comments on Sunset. I don't know if I just watched a few too many Guns 'n Roses videos as a kid or something, but my preconceived notion was that Sunset would be like Times Square (circa the 1980's) west. You know, real seemy and treacherous. Strip clubs, dive bars, trouble on every corner. Well, there ARE bars, strip clubs, etc., but it's not seemy at all. In FACT, it's downright, borderline chi-chi. Put it this way, most of these places have valet parking. I don't recall CBGB's offering that service back in the day. This isn't a complaint, just an observation.
So, I park my car, or, "Jeeves" parked my car more appropriately, and I made my way to the door of the club. Much to my surprise, it had a velvet rope. Been a while since I'd suffered that humiliation. Ah, the good old days. So the doorman is gnarly enough looking I guess. Spiked hair, some combination of tatts and piercings, requisite black clothes of some form or other. He just lacked the imposing air I would've anticipated. I want my doormen/bouncers coming in at like, 6'6 250, and looking like they just got out of the joint, and they were given the job because they stopped the club owner from getting shanked last year. I want to feel a sense of accomplishment when I get past a doorman. Like I just looked the devil in the eye, and he blinked first. Alas, this chap checked my name for his list, gave me the hi sign, told me to enjoy the show, and off I went.
The Viper Room is a club that used to be owned by Johnny Depp until 2004 I believe. It's also known for being the place where River Phoenix od'ed. So what do I do first, but go check out the bathroom. Not because I had to go, but because of the cache surrounding it. Is it wrong that I took a picture to show Bubba? "Hey Bubbs, over here is where he must've been slumped over?" Well, to paraphrase the song, "If takin' pictures of bathrooms where junkie celebrities died is wrong, I don't WANNA be right!" Anyway, I was stunned at how nice the club was. An actual decor, mood lighting, a nice elevated stage, proper sound and lights. Plus, the bartender looked EXACTLY like Fidel Castro, with thick beard and all, so that was neat. The crowd was civil. Enthusiastic, but not unrully. They even had a few mugs circulating about to make sure folks stayed in line. Turns out, I was one of the troublemakers, because I tried to take a picture without express written consent or something, and the guy made me put it away.
There was not an ounce of danger to this place. Not one. My shoes didn't stick to the floor. When I bumped into someone, he DIDN'T crack his empty on the bar to slash me with it. He excused himself. The show was slated to start at 9:30. It started at 9:30. Somewhere, Axl Rose is turning over in his rock and roll grave (HE's not dead, but his career, and more importantly, his hell raising ways apparently are).
Has the whole world been gentrified? Again, I'm no Hell's Angel. BUT, here's the thing. IF I go out to a rock and roll club for a show, I WANT there to be the dangerous rock and roll element. I don't crave that often at this point in my life, but if ever I want it, that's where it SHOULD exist. I mean, 90% of that crowd had piercings and tattoos. When I was a kid, I remember very vividly seeing someone with a spiked mohawk for the first time. It was petrifying. I sized up these kids at the club, and I just laughed to myself. I felt like I could kick the ass of the entire room. Mind you, this was a METAL show. This was not Coldplay. This was METAL.
When my mom and I talk about pro football, she'll always side with the team from the colder climate. "They're cold and angry. Those sunshine teams are too happy and soft." That's what it is. All this sunshine out here must just sap the hostility right out of you. Not just football teams. Everyone.
4 comments:
It's seamy, not seemy. FYI
is hip-hop the new punk rock? maybe you'll find your element of danger at a 50 cent show? the sad but maybe not sad truth is that we're getting old. Not you maybe, but me, definitely. old.
jesus man. and i thought rock n' roll clubs in nyc were lame! after reading that posting i'm kinda glad i'm still here. so anyway.....how about a review of the actual show? did it rawk??
I'm a big metal fan as you probably know and I'd love to know how they sound. I never really fit in with the shows themselves even back when I was 18-20. It is hard to find music with teeth anymore. I'm not talking about death metal. I don't quite get that stuff on any level. Metallica and Megadeth were pretty cool back in the day though. Where has that gone? Recently I have gotten into Korn, Evanescence,(seeing both in a week), Mushroomhead, and Mudvayne. I'm waiting for the day music turns dark again as it did in the early 90's with grunge. Panic at the Disco and Fallout Boy just don't do it for me.
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