I've recently been enjoying the sounds of Brownout, a Latin funk outfit
out of Austin, Texas. They've been around for a minute in the form of
Grupo Fantasma except here, they're strictly instrumental. What I like
about these guys is not only that they have their chops down but rather
than following a strict revivalist route, their sound has a clear Latin
influence but isn't holden to simply trying to sound like it's East
Harlem 1968 again.
-
Rolling Brownout Hits LA by Oliver Wang, Soul Sides, 01.23.08
That smoothed out Latin Funk has given way this morning to the Samba.
Bah Samba to be exact. But this post isn't about the spontaneous dance party in my apartment early this Sunday. No, I've been thinking a lot about public spaces, particularly, the differences between those in LA and SF.
A week ago, I was in San Francisco for the long weekend. Every time I'm up there, I do so much more than I do here. We traveled the city by bus! by muni! by cab! by foot! by BART! We went in search of giant donuts and art spaces and street art and drinks and delectables! I went to a random hippie party! We spent long swaths of time in Dolores and Golden Gate parks and at the
de Young and in each instance I was struck by the vibe of the city and the timbre of the people. There's a rhythm. I felt immediately connected and, as
Felicia remarks often, delighted by it.
At the de Young, for example, after taking the bus the wrong way--and figuring that misstep out by the GPS in our phones because, hello, nerds--we found our way into the museum's fountain area where a local artists' bazaar was taking place. We found ourselves a bench and people watched for awhile. We remarked on everyone's unique styles (particularly the comfortable yet stylish shoes that adorned everyone) and the smiles on their faces and the diversity, not just of ethnicity, but of age and sexuality and economy. Then we finally went inside and checked out the
Gilbert & George exhibit where my mind was blown.
As I remarked to Lauren yesterday as we walked through the new BCAM building at LACMA, I never took art history. I don't really know how to parse contemporary art but what the Gilbert & George exhibit showcased was
their ability to shine a light on their current affairs through photography and paint and their own beings and all in these giant set pieces that take minutes to take in. San Francisco is like that for me. I need more than the fleeting moments I get with that town and it's people. It's why I visit monthly now. My mind and heart are tugged there in an attempt to soak it all up.
Cut to yesterday's afternoon. It started with a car ride. Obviously. And a haircut. And traffic. And dodging award ceremonies. And a wonderful 90 minutes at
LACMA with a good friend. It also included parking woes. And a trip to The Grove. And a celebrity sighting--
Rebecca De Mornay enjoying the
Transform exhibit alone--and none of that rhythm or sense of interconnectedness that I felt just a week prior doing similar things. Nor any of that sense of wonder.
There's a great view from the top floor of
BCAM. You can see much of Hollywood and Beverly Hills but what we noticed was the 99 Cent store. "I've never seen it from this high, " she said.
"Neither have I," I agreed. We
marveled examined looked stared for a moment and then moved on. We wanted to avoid the tour group, the yellow shirted school group, the old ladies with umbrellas, and the sometime stars who didn't get an invite to either the
Independent Spirit Awards or the
Razzies.
We had fun, sure. We laughed at the Giant Balloon dog, discussed
Damien Hirst in depth, were awed by
Cindy Sherman, became kids again with the oversized kitchen table, and got vertigo in the first floor maze. We also rapped
Mama Said Knock You Out and spent too much money in the Apple Store. It was enjoyable but it was fun we shared only with each other. In LA, in our public spaces, our rhythm is our own. It's one of the reasons people love Los Angeles. It's often one of the reasons I love it.
Lately, though, I'm hungry for that shared movement.
Samba!
