I made a few pilgrimages to Los Angeles in the `90s when a couple of my friends moved out there (specifically to a bungalow in nearby Costa Mesa, as I discussed here). As a lifelong New Yorker, all I knew about L.A. was stuff I'd seen in movies and television, romanced by locales from films like "Repo Man," Penelope Spheeris' "Suburbia" and "The Decline of Western Civilization." I dutifully logged hours in music joints like The Troubadour, the Whiskey A-Go-Go, the Roxy, the Viper Room, the Jabberjaw Coffeehouse and the Rainbow ...specifically to pay homage to Lemmy from Motörhead's perch at the bar. We ate and drank copiously in places ranging from Barney's Beanery to the Formosa Cafe, and hung out everywhere from the La Brea Tar Pits to the arid bed of the Los Angeles river and even tried to reach the Spahn Ranch, where the Manson Family briefly held court. It was all so alternately exotic and sleazy and intriguing and glamorous and historic and beautiful. So, yeah, I was basically a completely insufferable, doe-eyed tourist, but the place left an indelible impression on me that sustains to this day.
Earlier this week, a friend of mine posted a video of the smoldering remains of her home, and then came reports that the flames have reached Sunset Boulevard, where several of the concerns listed above are. To see all this unfurl has been shocking and heartbreaking.
There are lots of ways to help. If you are in a position to help, consider donating to MusicCare's Los Angeles Fire Relief Effort to Help Music Professionals Fund or the Los Angeles Regional Food Bank or Salvation Army California Fire Relief, to name just three.
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