It's All Greek To Me

Music and Comedy on Vermont Ave.

The other night I conducted a brief interview with Brian Morrison of the Los Feliz Neighborhood Council Cultural Affairs Committee (and President of the Business Improvement District) for the upcoming episode of “The Voice of Los Feliz” podcast (dropping September 30^th). Brian was rightly happy about the smashing success that was the Disney Bros. Cartoon Studio Square block party. So over Happy Hour martinis, at a sidewalk table outside Figaro, we discussed the forthcoming Porchfest. He attributed the idea of Porchfest, a neighborhood festival of live and unplugged music performances where, as the name would imply, people’s front porches will serve as the stages, as having originated in Canada. Fortunately for those of us who are sick and tired of importing our entertainment ideas from America’s hat, Porchfest actually originated in Ithaca, NY. Oh, and I’m kidding about the whole “America’s hat” thing …

Taking place on November 2^nd and 3^rd, the plan is for the entire route of Porchfest venues to be entirely walk-able (all relevant info will be available at https://www.porchfestla.com). Given that Brian is someone who greatly champions walking as a preferred mode of transportation, it was somewhat surprising, and distracting, to see his increasing agitation during our time together as several DASH buses passed by our location. It turns out that he had seats at the Greek Theatre for that night’s show and he didn’t want to miss the opening act. This prompted me to ask him who was playing. He told me that the opening act was The Indigo Girls.

This answered a question I didn’t know I had. Namely, are the Indigo Girls still a thing? So, I asked who the headliner was. His answer: Amos Lee. I wanted to follow up by asking, “Who?” But I didn’t. After all, just because I don’t know who someone is, doesn’t mean they aren’t awesome. It’s true that when I scan through the concert listings at the Greek, I frequently have not heard of the performers. Again, I am sure they are all first-class and I can’t help hearing one of my dad’s favorite lines. “It’s all Greek to me!” he would frequently exclaim. If you are unfamiliar with that phrase and you can’t discern its meaning from the context I have provided, then you now know how I feel about Amos Lee.

My final question to Brian, given his almost desperate need to try to catch up to a DASH bus that had already passed by, was, “If you walked, wouldn’t you make it up there faster?” He acknowledged that because of Vermont Ave. traffic, he most certainly would make it faster on foot. Nevertheless, he graciously paid for our drinks, said his goodbyes, and sprinted up the street to ultimately catch the DASH in question. As someone who fundamentally believes we should, to the degree our schedules will allow, take the slowest means possible to get to a place (thereby having more of an opportunity to enjoy the journey), I salute his dedication. My days of sprinting for a bus, or for anything, I pray, are behind me, however. So, while he ran, I stayed and ordered food.

This IS a big week for me musically, though. My all-time favorite artist, Paul Weller, will be in town for two shows at the Orpheum this weekend, and I am writing these words hours before braving I-5 traffic to see him perform at the Anaheim House of Blues tonight. As front man for The Jam, and then The Style Council, and for almost 35 years now a solo performer, Weller has an incredible catalog of songs and recordings. As much as his music has meant to me, however, his dedication to his art and how he has gone about approaching it has served to inspire me in much the same way filmmaker Robert Altman has. One of Weller’s monikers is that of “The Changingman” and it’s apt, for he seems to have been always driven to try something new, to explore what he is made of philosophically, intellectually, emotionally, and musically, rather than recreating what was already successful.

It’s safe to say Paul Weller is a national treasure.  Unfortunately, that nation is the United Kingdom.  The Jam was the UK’s most popular group by the time Weller disbanded them at the height of their popularity, a move that ensured that the band from the “class of ‘77” (The Jam, The Sex Pistols, The Clash) that seemingly had the most distant affiliation with the precepts of punk would nevertheless be the only one to stay true to those precepts.  The Jam had simply become too popular for the band to have the type of impact of which Weller dreamed. Enter The Style Council, a radical departure from the musical style (and the clothes) of The Jam, but not from the socially relevant messages.  With The Style Council those messages were presented in an array of soul, jazz and funk-inspired pop grooves.  For a few years in the early to mid-‘80’s, The Style Council was good enough to justify their self-proclaimed assertion of being “Probably the best pop band in the world.”

Unfortunately, in the UK, the word “pop” didn’t sit well with Weller’s fans.  He had been hardcore since ’77 and many wanted him to stay that way.  Meanwhile, over here in the colonies, The Jam’s breakup came just when they were starting to gain traction on the U.S. charts.  The Style Council built on that traction, so, ironically, Weller’s greatest commercial success here came with The Style Council, not with The Jam. Sadly, the overall quality of The Style Council long-players became somewhat hit and miss and the choice of singles not always the most wise and by 1989 the band’s label, Polydor (the only home Weller’s music had ever known) were rejecting the band’s latest album and Weller knew the end had come.  Unlike The Jam, who were at the top of their game when Weller made the call, The Style Council seemed to have overstayed their welcome, and Weller, himself, was without a record deal for the first time in his career.

As I don’t live in the United Kingdom, I never had the opportunity to see The Style Council perform live and I was too young to see The Jam, so when the announcement was made in 1991 that Paul Weller would be playing a show at the Variety Arts Center in downtown Los Angeles, I gladly paid top dollar for tickets.  The show was billed as an evening of his music with The Jam, the Style Council and “the debut of his solo material.”  Tickets sold out so fast that Weller ended up playing four sold-out nights. That first night, the sight of Vespa Scooters backed up all the way from 9^th Street way down to the 10 Freeway on Figueroa was one I will never forget. Mod was suddenly BACK, and would, in fact lead to Weller’s other, more common contemporary nickname, “The Modfather”. As for the show itself, in noting Weller’s lack of a record deal, Variety referred to it as the “audition of the year”.

Thirty-three years, later, and playing in support of his new long-player, “66” (so named because its release coincided with Weller’s 66^th birthday), it’s clear the audition was a resounding (and enduring) success. I have seen him perform live so often through the years that I have lost count. Twice I have seen him at the Greek Theatre. And truth be told, both experiences provided disappointments.

The first time I saw Weller at the Greek was in the summer of 1992. I had nosebleed seats. I remember Small Faces keyboardist Ian McLagan sat in. That was a thrill. So was Paul’s extraordinary rendition of Neil Young’s “Ohio”. In fact, my disappointment didn’t come until after the show, when I went down the street to the Dresden (where I was already something of a regular) and found no one who attended the Weller show grabbing a late night drink there. Where were the scooters? Where were the mod fashionistas? The show had happened. It had ended. At 23 years of age, I thought people would want to hang out afterwards, savoring our communal experience. Now, at 55 years of age, I get it.

Paul Weller has frequently had interesting, even brilliant, performers open for him. When he played the Greek in October of 2012, I was introduced to the extraordinary Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings. Immediately, I became a huge fan. Under other circumstances, I might not have been disappointed in having an opening act overshadow the headliner I was there to see. On that occasion, it WAS disappointing, for after the Dap-Kings concise, rousing set, Weller took the stage for what turned out to be a truncated version of what he had planned. He plays long sets, but that night the curfew seemed to catch him by surprise. By the time he and his band were hitting full stride they were told to stop. Much as I love the Greek, I am glad Paul Weller has never played there again.

As for Sharon Jones, if you have not availed yourself of her soulful sounds, I strongly encourage you to do so. Also, check out the inspiring, heartbreaking documentary Miss Sharon Jones! It depicts her battle with the cancer that would take her life in November of 2016. Just two months prior to her death, she had made a comeback of sorts, taking the stage with the Dap-Kings at the Hollywood Bowl, opening for Hall & Oates. Despite her health travails Sharon Jones was somehow in top form and gave a powerful performance. At one point, she had to rush off the stage. It was clear she was gasping for breath. Knowing how sick she had been (and, as it turns out, still was), I held my breath on her behalf. Would she be able to continue? Moments later, she sprinted back onto stage looking for all the world like Simone Biles preparing to hit the vault in an Olympics routine. She revealed that the reason for her temporary exit from stage was to remove her Spanks as the undergarment was responsible for her shortness of breath! Suffice it to say, this was another concert where the opening act overshadowed the headliner. Not that I don’t enjoy Hall & Oates. I truly like Hall & Oates as much as the next person … unless the next person truly likes Hall & Oates.

Seriously, though, some people there were really passionate about the Hall & Oates singles discography. So passionate, in fact, that when the show ended, it became obvious to me that a glaring omission from that discography was a profound bother to people. Or rather, this fact was made obvious to me as a dozen or more total strangers approached ME and shouted, “Why no ‘Rich Girl’?” Why did they choose me, you might ask? And I might counter with, “Why did they choose Hall & Oates?” I have no idea what leads anyone to do the things they do and I try not to get in their way when they are doing them.

Probably the best show I have ever seen at the Greek Theatre was in 2012, a concert by Pink Martini. It was the Greek Theatre debut for the small orchestra from Portland, Oregon. They delighted with a vast array of selections from their globetrotting, multi-lingual song catalog performed in a wide variety of styles including classical, bossa nova, jazz and traditional pop. Bandleader Thomas Lauderdale welcomed several special guests to the stage, the most jaw dropping of which was Mamie Van Doren (yes, the Mamie Van Doren, who is still very much alive at 93, thank you). It was a staggering evening of artistic adventurousness, musical excellence and great fun.

The most “fun” I ever had at a Greek Theatre show, however, was courtesy of

Flight of the Conchords’ Jemaine Clement and Brett McKenzie. It was a reunion of their signature music and comedy act that first debuted in their native New Zealand before becoming the basis of a popular UK radio program(me) and eventually a beloved HBO series. It was particularly fun from a local perspective, for even in a neighborhood where celebrity sightings are part of our almost daily existence, one of my wife’s most thrilling was seeing both Jemaine and Brett “present” at a table at Fred 62 one day, and on another day, for us to see them walking with the brilliant Kristen Schaal (the band’s superfan “Mel”) while we were on our way together to the Vista. At the Greek, their opening act was Arj Barker, who played the shop owner “Dave” on the HBO series, and who is an accomplished stand-up comedian. The reunion of the HBO show became complete when the incomparable Rhys Darby took the stage and held an impromptu band meeting.

Hopefully, Flight of the Conchords will have another reunion in some form. And hopefully it will be sometime soon. The world really needs them. I really need them. I was a fan of their show. I was a fan of their comedy. I was a fan of their songs.

A long-running radio show of which I became a fan because of The Greek Theatre was “Prairie Home Companion”. I had been aware of the show, of course, and had greatly enjoyed the big-screen adaption written by and starring the show’s creator, Garrison Keillor, and directed by Robert Altman. Getting to see the show live two different years at the Greek, proved to be the most inspiring experiences I have ever had at the Greek, helping me formulate clearly in my mind where my creative ambitions lie and what I want to work towards achieving. When K eillor ended the show in 2016, it left a vacuum culturally. He is back for a 50^th reunion tour this year, but long-term, feeling the vacuum the show’s absence created has given me a powerful idea.

As for my favorite memories from those “Prairie Home Companion” shows, I would have to include the musical performances by the Wilson sisters (Heart) and by Men at Work’s Colin Hay, and especially the seemingly improvised way Garrison Keillor used the long intermission to wander through the crowd, simply singing a cappella. The last was only for the crowd present. The nationwide audience that would hear the show on NPR the following day would not have been privy to that performance. The live audience was also privy to a visual element that enhanced the popular News from Lake Wobegon. That segment was made even more delightful because live it looks as if its almost off-the-cuff, being written in the moment by Garrison Keillor.

Of course, it is often the unexpected occurrence that provides the most indelible memories from a live event and “Prairie Home Companion” was no exception.  During a part of the show where Keillor was describing the locale, stalwart sound effects man Fred Newman began bringing Keillor’s verbal descriptions to auditory life, using only sounds he could create with his mouth. One of these sounds was of the coyotes that call the surrounding park home. Well, no sooner had Fred delivered an amplified coyote call than he received a quick, frightening response. Dozens of coyotes were attracted and could be seen circling the hilly rim above the amphitheater. Their responding howls, delivered in unison, drowned out the performance on-stage for several moments, and could be heard quite clearly on the next day’s nationwide broadcast.

I once had another, unforgettable and quite bloody, Greek Theatre experience involving the spot where some of those coyotes were howling. Fortunately no animals, nor animal attack, played any part. I was leading a pal from the UK and a pal of his from Santa Barbara on a rather rigorous hike - too rigorous for the Santa Barbara pal, as it turns out. He took a tumble, in shorts, and slid down a rather rough, and somewhat rocky path. I am sure it was painful. It certainly proved messy, but before we could worry too much about the well being of his damaged leg, all three of us became consumed by what we had literally stumbled into: a good view of an incredible sound-check performance by Pat Benatar. She sounded fantastic and aside from a few stagehands, there was no one else who got to witness it. The coyote pack really missed out.

Like the rest of us, those coyote packs really love Vermont Ave. During the pandemic lockdowns, you could set your clock to their 11 pm constitutional down the middle of the boulevard, so quiet was the street that they were not endangered by cars, and the sound of their howls met with no community resistance. Sometimes I think about those packs of coyotes when I am walking down Vermont to catch a show at the neighborhood’s newest performance venue, The Pack Theater.

Barnsdall Square Shopping Center is home to our beloved and unusual Jon’s Marketplace, as well as our oddly beloved, thoroughly bleak Voyage of the Damned Rite Aid (why don’t they have any products on their shelves any more?). It has also become a major gathering place for those seeking great comedy as it boasts two different comedy theaters. One is The Clubhouse, a community theater and school run by its performers, teachers and students. The other is The Pack Theater, having recently re-located from its home in Hollywood.

I attend so many shows at these venues, and others, that I rather frequently get asked if I will ever go up on stage and perform improv comedy myself. The answer to that is a definite “no”. After all, I see a lot of music shows at venues like the famed amphitheater 1.6 miles north of Vermont Avenue’s The Pack Theater, but there is zero chance I will be playing music on-stage at any point in my life. Sure, I love hearing and watching musical performances and improv performances. When it comes to expressing myself through either of their unique languages, however, I must admit … it’s all Greek to me.