screams, whispers and songs from planet earth

Tag: Lost and Found

Lost and Found (XII of XII)

A Los Angeles story of madness and awakening, in twelve parts

Elysian Park ~ Echo Park, Los Angeles

Elysian Park ~ Echo Park, Los Angeles

Part XII: An Elysian Park Sojourn, The Club Formerly Known as Spaceland and The World According To…

Under normal circumstances, as pleasurable as a vacation is, by the end of it, one is usually looking forward to going home. In my case, however, the vacation was weird, at times stressful and bizarre, at other times like a pleasant daydream filled with warm, engaging people — and I sincerely dreaded returning back to my life as an East Coast recluse. I don’t know why, but things just seemed easier for me there. Even as I struggled to find a happy balance between getting some promised work done, seeing bands, connecting with old and new friends and trying to support my haunted host, it still seemed to flow far more naturally and it all made sense somehow, when things in my life often don’t.

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Lost and Found (XI of XII)

A Los Angeles story of madness and awakening, in twelve parts

Solstice Canyon, Malibu

Solstice Canyon, Malibu

Part XI: Time with friends, “Two Boys From Brooklyn” and a beautiful hike in Solstice Canyon

I was slowly coming out of a 10-day whirlwind, considering such heady issues as the role of fate in our lives, the soul’s journey, the seductive pull of despair and madness, the lives of struggling rock bands… I had the great fortune, while on this vision quest, to spend some quality time with old and new friends. It may just be me, or it may be that my internal rhythms just don’t jive with Boston’s internal rhythms, but this just doesn’t seem to happen here. It occurs to me, as I write this a startling two months later, that it’s the extensive effort required to connect with like-minded people in Boston that exhausts me and results, most of the time, in me being emotionally worn out and still alone. But I persist.

My 30-second therapy session at The CAMP, in the form of a succinct inspirational message -- you're welcome, no charge.

My 30-second therapy session at The CAMP, in the form of a succinct inspirational message -- you're welcome, no charge.

The morning after my strange experience at what I had thought would be one of the highlights of my trip, I had a very pleasant lunch at Native Foods, a wonderful vegan restaurant in an absolutely fantastic little alternative shopping center known as The CAMP. It was the antithesis of the Costa Mesa I had experienced the day before. My friend Tammy and I had a great lunch and “mutual debriefing” of the previous night’s Delta Spirit and Airborne show at the Wavelength Festival. Human nature and motivation continue to confound me, but it’s the ongoing search and struggle for understanding that’s most important.

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Lost and Found (X of XII)

A Los Angeles story of madness and awakening, in twelve parts

The Airborne Toxic Event with the Pacific Symphony at the Pacific Amphitheatre

The Airborne Toxic Event with the Pacific Symphony at the Pacific Amphitheatre

Part X: Impressions of Costa Mesa, missteps at Laguna Beach and the Wavelength Festival with Delta Spirit and The Airborne Toxic Event

Driving around Costa Mesa, looking for a decent vegetarian breakfast, it occurred to me how much the city is like a sprawling Simsbury, Connecticut — or, for you Bostonians, perhaps Newton. There were the endless upscale shopping centers, pristine landscaping and not a single non-white person to be seen at the outdoor yuppie-style cafe I finally came across in one of the many fancy yet nondescript strip malls. Even the name was vaguely elitist: Haute Cakes. Perfect. Two haute couture women were sitting next to me, chattering non-stop, while their equally stuffy and primped little dog wound itself around my leg. The food was good but no match for the ‘Angel’s Mess’ at Millie’s in Silver Lake, which was life-affirming.

I was thinking about the importance of the show I would be seeing that night. I’d been a fan of The Airborne Toxic Event since 2008, and though they’ve performed with an orchestra before, this was the first time they’d done so in the Los Angeles area. It was part of the Wavelength Festival, and they’d be appearing with the 85-piece Pacific Symphony at the state-of-the-art Pacific Amphitheatre. Fellow Angelinos Delta Spirit, a marvelous band and headliner in their own right, was opening for them. Over the five years I’ve known Airborne, they’ve continuously raised their game. They’ve become more accomplished musicians and performers, and their musical arrangements, particularly for the orchestral shows, ever more impressive. I can’t imagine how much time and energy it takes to work out parts for 85 additional players. Add to this the majesty of performing in a world-class amphitheatre with a world-class symphony orchestra, in front of what most certainly would be Southern California’s finest in terms of sophisticated music aficionados. All of that was bound to add up to a beautiful experience, right?

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Lost and Found (VII of XII)

A Los Angeles story of madness and awakening, in twelve parts

123Death at Los Globos, Silver Lake

123Death at Los Globos, Silver Lake

Part VII: Boardner’s in Hollywood to Los Globos in Silver Lake… and back again.

It was now Day 6 in my bleary haze of broken sleep and beautiful sights and sounds. Tuesday night — must be time for my personally-curated “Julie’s Eastside L.A. Welcoming Party” (or so it seemed). Former members of Death To Anders, Rademacher, Radars To The Sky and The Henry Clay People, all in new projects at two different clubs at opposite ends of town. It was also the night when I wondered why, despite all our technological advances, transporters haven’t yet been invented.

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Lost and Found (VI of XII)

A Los Angeles story of madness and awakening, in twelve parts

Ryan Fuller and Rob Danson of Fort King, at The Echo

Ryan Fuller and Rob Danson of Fort King, at The Echo

Part VI: Echo Park Rising, Sunday

Upon waking on Sunday morning, the second day of the Echo Park Rising Festival, I was badly in need of loud music, comfort food and a cozy spot to curl into a fetal position. Preferably all at once. I had a strange dream during the night. There was a paranoid and delusional crack head who had left a cryptic message on my friend’s cell phone, threatening to come by the house and quite possibly do us bodily harm. In a dazed panic, we discussed various options (call the police, take a posse back to the house, not go home that night and stay elsewhere, etc.), while standing in a drunken crowd that included a throng of KXLU DJs on the sidewalk outside the Lot 1 Cafe in the middle of the night. As the fog began to clear from my sleep-deprived brain, I realized it was not a dream. After an hour of strategizing our next move, we actually listened to the message and determined that he was not a serious threat after all. As it happened, our sleep was only disturbed by the usual roving dogs and ghetto birds. At a friend’s suggestion (thank you, Rob Danson), I grabbed my stuff, scrambled back to Lot 1 and found the safe haven, satisfying brunch and healing music I was looking for.

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