The Show that Started it All (Viv's Take)

Babs already told you everything you need to know about the music aspect of Jared Lee at Hotel Café. After all, she's the one with good taste in music. And by good taste I mean she makes all the correct esoteric choices, has a keen sense of what transcends the norm, and possesses an encyclopedic knowledge of music not limited by genre. I on the other hand, am lazy about music. I really like it, and get nervous if I forget to bring my ipod with me to work, but rarely come upon a new find myself. Instead I rely on others to steer me in the right direction, discovering amazing bands far after they've ceased to be news on the scene. I also have a secret love for dirty south rap music that need not be aired in the blog-o-sphere.

So who I am and why am I posting on this blog? Put simply, I'm a foodie and sometime oenophile working a soulless job who could really use a creative outlet. And at the Hotel Cafe Wednesday night, I came upon the idea of blogging about my dining experiences in Los Angeles and beyond. It seems so obvious now. What better to way to utilize my penchant for verbosity, opinionated nature, and constantly rumbly tummy than a blog about my culinary adventures?!? I of course reserve the right to blog about things other than food, including, but not limited to, dating in the Facebook age, why lawyers are assholes (me included) and maybe even the occasional concert review. But for the most part my posts will be about the joys and hazards of being a food-lover in a city that has both vegan cafes and Roscoe's, is known for its sublime strip-mall restaurants, and is currently ground zero for hip French Bistros.

Anyhow, lets talk food at the Hotel Café. Hotel Café’s website promises "grilled European style Panini sandwiches, chicken quesadillas, specialty salads, a full selection of desserts and espresso drinks, as well as many bottled beers, wines, and a full bar." Famished from the after work scramble to ditch my business casual gear for a more concert-appropriate getup, and the subsequent trafficky drive across town, I had secret hopes that "grilled European style Panini sandwiches" meant mozzeralla and tapenade, or perhaps ham and gruyere. Unfortunately, the food is much more pedestrian. The short but serviceable menu featured two paninis (one with veggies, cheese, and choice of ham, turkey or pastrami, and a vegetarian option that has artichoke hearts instead of meat), a quesadilla available with or without chicken, and a salad. There was also a separate small menu touting a single item: french fries. Babs and I opted for a turkey panini, a quesadilla sans chicken, and of course, the fries. The fries come with your choice of two of the following “dipping sauces” -- ketchup, ranch and mayo. I despise mayonnaise, so we went with the ketchup and ranch options. Babs and I both wondered what they would do if we asked for all three. Given that store-bought ketchup, mayo and ranch aren’t exactly on the cutting edge of condiments it would be hard to imagine them denying the request . . .

After ordering, we settled in with a cocktail at a table in the outer room that allowed us to view the crowd queuing up for the show. The bartender indicated that our food would be up in about 10 minutes, but it took at least 30 minutes and a few “just checking-in” inquiries before we saw our food. The panini and quesadilla were both made in a panini press and had lovely charred lines to show for it. The cheese in both was evenly melted and we didn’t mind missing the first five minutes of the show to chow down. After finishing our grilled items, Babs and I grabbed the fries and took them into the “music room” to eat while we watched the show. The fries were good -- crispy, salty, and uber-skinny -- but definite overkill after the quesadilla and Panini.

The verdict: Hotel Café is definitely about the music, not the food. But if you come hungry and like cheese, you certainly won’t starve. For me at least, the most awesome FAQs on the Hotel Café website, great music, and passel of attractive musician-types wandering about the place (think tall with soulful eyes, messy hair, and the drive to pursue their passion despite a day job and you’ll get the picture), more than made up for the limited menu. In fact next time I go to the Hotel Café I’ll eat beforehand and feast on the eye candy instead.

The Show That Started It All.

I've seen a lot of live shows. I've definitely seen more shows than you. Seriously, I have. I mean, you name it-- everything from Kenny Loggins to the Donkey Shows in TJ, yer ol' Babs has been there. And you know what? Lately I've been thinking: Babs, this isn't fair. It isn't fair to the people to experience the wonderment of these shows and keep them all to yourself. Shine your light on the world.

And by "light," of course, I mean inane banter about shit I do, shows I see, and stuff I like, which includes (but is by no means limited to) music, live performances, and if ever I'm feeling like a real upper, relevant commentary on the economic shithole that our country can't dig its way out of.

Last night, I was at a show your mom would've LOVED.

I mean, just look at this kid! This is the guy my moms always hoped would show up on my doorstep in high school.

Oh, hello, Mrs. Silverwood! I'm here to take your daughter Babs to the Sock Hop. My, you look lovely on this fine evening. I'll be sure to have Babs home at a decent hour, so you tell Mr. Silverwood not to worry. I'll be singing in the church choir this Sunday, so I hope to see you there!

Unbeknownst to Mom, we hightail it outta there in his older brother's El Camino and he devirginizes me (Party in the Back, not to be confused with Business in the Front) in the parking lot behind the Quik-E-Mart. 2 minutes later, I'm curled up in the fetal position, crying in the truck bed, feeling dirty and shameful, yet strangely exhilarated.

That's kind of how I felt after watching Jared Lee's set at Hotel Cafe last night.

So the first few songs I'm thinking, aw. Boy-next-door looks, a menace on the keyboard, great set of pipes, accessible song structure, juuuuuuust the right pinch of sensitive brooder-- true radio-friendly pop goodness. Totally not my style, but I get it. He's the bastard love child of Maroon 5 and Jason Mraz, and what squealing demographic of young teeny-boppers wouldn't mess their panties over a combo like that? Good for him.

Then it dawned on me-- I kinda like it! Wait, what? Why the hell am I enjoying this? There's nothing immediately interesting or innovative going on, nothing I haven't heard before a MILLION times on STAR, KIIS, KOST, KBIG or my mom's American Idol iPod mix... so what is it?

Then I just let the burning shame wrap me up like a warm blanket and succumbed to it. He's good. Alright? I said it. He's a talented guy with a solid vocal range, a working mastery of the keys and some good ol' wholesome baseline stage presence. The songs were well written and well performed. A fair degree of well-executed vocal improv indicated sufficient confidence. He backed himself with a talented group of musicians. What the hell else can you ask for from a quick 45-minute set at an intimidating venue?

If he shakes off a bit of a newbie vibe (my understanding is that he's fairly new to town and has only played a few live sets), stays vulnerable and really lets 'er rip over the next couple of gigs, he should pick up a lot of momentum and gain quite a following.

I didn't go running from the set to pick up the CD and bumper sticker, but I'd check out his next show, for sure. And this time, I'll bring Mom.