I did not wake up to the smell of breakfast on our last morning in Bakersfield. I probably had various bizarre dreams about drugs and sex and weird locations like I’ve been doing this whole trip. I should keep better track of my dreams, sort of like receipts for taxes. We would be on the move again that afternoon, destination Anaheim. Our other band White Orange played the Doll Hut about a year ago to the sound guy and our bartender Melissa. Despite the obvious lack of audience, it was a really fun show. That place is an institution dripping with history. We pulled up in front, parked the bitch, and went inside. Low and behold our girl was working again. Ironic considering she only works one day a week there. She let us in on the sad news that the Doll Hut would be closing down. I’m unclear if the building will be demolished but the plan is to build a mariachi bar, or some shit like that. The building is really old and it officially became the Doll Hut in the 50’s. Melissa told me some good stories about it being haunted and that they even tried to coax some of the spirits to play this last Halloween when they turned out the lights for 30 minutes and sat at the bar in the dark. No dice. I guess spirits play according to their own rules. I sat in the back and tried to write but her boyfriend asked me if I wanted to burn one with him. Sure I said. We got to talking about prison and the politics of Californian jails. It was an enlightening conversation about the realities of being imprisoned and institutionalized. We loaded our gear in and waited. Same old routine of hurrying up to wait. It helps when the bands before us are good and does not help when they suck. Not too many people there on a Tuesday night but we didn’t expect anything different. We played solid and at one point Dustin got up on the bar to sing. He said he could hear vocals better up there than anywhere else the entire night. Figures.
     We are fortunate enough to have some amazing friends in Los Angeles. One of them being a supremely benevolent benefactor who shall be kept nameless, but I can offer a hint. He’s the best rock drummer in the best rock band in the world. And no, it’s not Dave Grohl. But I can say that the Stump Sisters rule this planet so hard and Sara arranged for us to stay in the guest house that night. Ironically, Rynne was in Portland and would return on Thursday. A lot of really awesomely talented bands stay there and to be part of that community is quite humbling. They always say don’t meet your heroes, but this is too good to pass up. That night Sarah came with tons of beer and a friend who had other green goodies. There is a great jam room in the house and an amazing bass playing house guest Julie who got down with us on some jams. We probably stayed up past our bedtimes that night.
     We awoke in Hollywood and Julie got down on some serious breakfast for us. Gotta start the day off right. Our show that night was in Santa Barbara so we didn’t need to leave that early. Chief spent a lot of time on the grand piano that’s in the main living room. Napoleon may have had nunchuck and computer hacking skills, but this man has some serious finger skills. (Ladies!?) There’s a Ms. Pacman machine in the entryway that Aaron and I put some major time on. Gotta get close to that damn high score! We left for the North 101 around 4 PM and got right into LA traffic. What a fucking whore she is. Not really spending that much time here, it’s always an amazing sight to behold some guy on a crotch rocket flying in between lanes going 80 MPH while you’re driving 55. Fuck LA! (not really, but maybe.)
    We pulled up to Muddy Waters and got a nice spot. Love those spots right in front of the building. Makes everything easier. White Orange played there on one of the last tours, so most of us knew what to expect. Chief started laughing, “Is this a coffee shop?” Yeah! It’s actually awesome, just need to fill it up with people. Cat from Electric Sex Enterprises put on the show and it was a really fun line up. Most people slept on it though, shame on them. Missing out! The Dogons opened and were insanely obtuse. All dressed down with lyrics that Grandma would not appreciate, they got the evening started right. Easter Teeth graciously let us go second. Thanks dudes! We did our thing, Dustin put his mustache all over some cute girls that were sitting down in front, and then we cleared our shit out. We shared the bill with Easter teeth the last time we played Muddy Waters and also ran into them at the Ella St. Social Club in Portland while they were on tour. They’re really funny guys. I told the drummer they should do stand up. “Like the Smothers Brothers? Do some comedy and then play a ditty or two?” Yeah! Exactly! There was an after party but we opted to head back to Hollywood and stay at the guest house again. It’s a pretty tough choice between that and a Motel 6. I guess Motel Burritos would have to wait until we’re out of LA.

‘Till next time!

- ryan | 1 Comment
  • DaddyMac

    Funny… the first Bukowski poem I read was “jam”, his musings on the Harbor Freeway traffic. Great minds think alike. Does anybody read these comments?