“FUCK YOU GUYS! Man, that guy learned ‘Gold on the Ceiling’ on the plane three hours ago!”
Sunday, March 4th, 2012. 12:55 AM- Hollywood, CA- The room is near silent as the emcee throws his arms up in frustration. He is a lurching, half drunk 21st century Jim Morrison in a funny long brim hat. A Hollywood original- If there is such a thing. Behind him the session musicians from acts like Aguilera, Dr. Dre, and Black Eyed Peas warm up as the singers switch out. Brett from Lord Huron has just left the stage after his fingers nearly burned the neck of his guitar slicing through Black Keys’s “Gold on the Ceiling”. It was fucking incredible. Yet, the doe eyed ingenues of Hollywood refuse to clap, for fear of being cast outside of the secret entrance in Papaya King with the noisy name dropping miscreants who can’t get in. This is quintessential Hollywood- where the beautiful aspiring kids come together to look over each other’s shoulders and maintain composure (even while coked out of their gourds) while blatantly ignoring the immense talent unfolding before them. It’s as if putting your hands together for someone more talented than you would result in being labeled a groupie or fan. But its clear some of these girls have slept with everyone in the room so why be so coy?
But despite the social inadequacies displayed by future b-listers, there is something beautiful going on at Sayer’s. Peppering a great dj set by our brother Adam 12 with a few fantastic loose sets of indie and mainstream rock speaks volumes about the confidence SBE operates the club with. It is an actual night club, with an act that transmutes the scene and changes the gears so fast it forces the kids to keep up. When’s the last time you walked into a room of young beautiful things and the band is playing “Pissing in a River” by Patti Smith as sung by a girl that looks like a russian porcelain doll? Never? Me neither.
The host brings a nice looking Jewish girl on stage. She whispers into his ear and turns to tell the band what they’re gonna play. The wobbly emcee grabs the mic “I LOVE Cee-lo Green. Fuck you guys. Oh..This is Gnarls Barkely. Well, fuck. I knew Cee-Lo before he was Cee-lo…” He then jumps into the couches and leaves the pro to belt “Crazy” , with the crowd acting more interested. Which is a shame. Because when they belted out Muse, The Black Keys and Patti Smith they could have cared less. But it says a lot about the lack of depth in the general population’s minds these days. In New York, everyone is looking for the excitement, the moment that is truly original, the vibe that changes faster than Lohan’s sobriety attempts. In Los Angeles, everyone wants to be in that moment, but they want an air of familiarity so they can relate to it and remain comfortable. If Sayers existed in Chicago, we wouldn’t even know what to make of it. It’s almost avant garde in its delivery of exclusivity and incredible talent, not to mention its brutal door policy. Bring that here and the gen pop might reject it. That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t want it here…In fact I have been very vocal in my criticism of our dilapidated and unoriginal nightlife scene the last year. Sayers is in fact, the kind of club I would love to see make a run in Chicago. Our music community needs just that: Community. Rarely do we get to see them outside of Wicker Park dives. To have them collaborate and deliver a formidable rock and roll experience in a high end nightclub would be a fucking spectacle. But until then, I’ll just have to worm my way past the guy demanding that if “he were James Cameron you would fucking let me in.” and bask in the warm glow of perfectly executed rock and roll and dj sets off of Hollywood Blvd.
Thanks to the SBE group and Adam 12 for making our Friday one to remember.
Tyler
