#745: Pass A Bottle to Mr. Jones.
Laguna Beach wasn’t all beaches, billionaires and babes. Somewhere in the back of a hole-in-the-wall dive bar called The Marine Room, I found a funky, blue grass band and a man who defied the “Cali” norm.
#737: Catch A Show At The Indie.
It really is true. Great bands become great by starting off in small venues. Walking down the narrow hall of The Independent (a venue I never knew existed until about 10 minutes ago), I was immediately star-struck by all the glossy, framed photos. Green Day, Beck, Springsteen, Billy Joel, Lenny Kravitz all played here once upon a time. Wow. I wonder what band I’ll see next who will really be somebody in 10 years. Two hours, two lagunitas and three new…
#7: Hear All That Jazz on Frenchmen St.
Kirk, the New Orleans drummer, told me about this “Frenchman Street.” But I didn’t realize how musically influential and magical this place would really be. Turns out, it’s extraordinary. Removed from the glitzy neon lights and overrated Bourbon Street, this compact musical neighborhood is the epicenter of jazz music, nightlife and deep southern cajun culture. No over-the-top dance raging clubs. Only hole-in-the-wall dives. No half-ass singing. Only amazingly talented musicians playing for pennies on street corners. No neon…