The Grand Schlep

I'd resolved to see if I could do LA without a car this trip, and when I arrived from Bakersfield via bus I was able to get to North Hills (in the Valley) from Union Station to North Hills by public transit, via one metro and two buses, which took about an hour and a half. That was a little long, but ultimately bearable. But then last night, I needed to get from North Hills to LACMA, which is downtown (Miracle Mile-ish). Looking online, I found that I would have to takeno less than four buses, and the one-way trip would probably take two and a half hours. Getting back late at night was going to be even worse.

Hence, I borrowed a car for the evening, and next time I'll rent a vehicle, as much as it kills me. The monster of Los Angeles wins.

Leaving LA wasn't so easy, either, thanks to a numbskulled mistake. It started off well enough, with the shuttle bus to the airport being both quick and cheap. But when I tried to check in, Delta couldn't find my reservation. After several minutes of searching, finally they pulled up a reservation for me from LA to Vancouver, but leaving /next /Friday. Oh dear. That wasn't going to help me, so I canceled (rather than paying the $450 difference in fare to change the flight- yikes!) and feverishly hopped onto Kayak, hoping to get something soon and less-than-outrageous. Alaska had something that fit the bill, so I gratefully paid up and dashed to their terminal.

I once again had good luck with my two-in-one-guitars, being able to put them in the overhead storage. There were a few askance looks, though, and if I'd been a few minutes later I'd have been out of luck, as the bins all were crammed, this being Alaska which charges $20 per checked bag. I'm starting to look again at acoustic travel guitars; I hate having the constant worry when it's time to fly, hoping that my instrument can be guaranteed safe passage.

My second flight was a turboprop, and nobody could bring along any carry-ons bigger than a tote bag, so I relinquished control of my guitars, though as I watched the handlers they did seem to take decent care with them. I arrived finally in Vancouver, caught the (very fast and clean) Skytrain downtown, and met up with a few of my friends at a fantastic, yet cheap, sushi place (Zipang Sushi, on Main). Payoff.

Cafe Montmartre was just a few blocks away, mercifully, as I was quite ready to stop dragging my stuff around. It turned out to be a lovely little place, very much modeled after a French cafe, and largely succeeding. There's a stage next to the windows in the front, and old bicycles hanging from the ceiling, and charming little tables scattered throughout. Best of all, there were people hanging out, drifting in, and making the place feel quite lively.

My friends in Nothofagus did a great little set, with guitar and accordion and vocals in both French and Spanish, perfect for the environment. A good little crowd had gathered, and it was nice to take the stage already warmed up, as it were.

I'm still fooling around with different approaches to my sets. Recently I've been leaning towards doing a rocking, uptempo set, and standing up to play (which seems to fit that kind of material). But the other night in Bakersfield, I felt like I was beating people over the heads with the non-stop strumming. So tonight I sat, and mixed in a fair amount of quieter stuff. People applauded, and seemed to be listening, more-or-less, and I ended up doing two sets. There were some tips and nice compliments afterwards, and even an offer for another gig next week. But still, I feel like standing calls for more attention, and does a better job of calling people in to the "show", as it were. Perhaps it's only natural for a performer to want to capture the hearts of every person in the place, but there's always that nagging feeling that if I were really getting across, nobody would leave and everyone would want a CD. I'll keep experimenting. Even after all these years of solo gigs, I still feel like I have much to learn about what makes a good performance.

Afterward, I retired to my friends' loft, full of artwork and instruments, a place where creativity is nurtured. A great place to lay my head for the night.