Staff Editor on March 13th, 2021

0

Liz Garo in November announced she was leaving her talent buyer role at Spaceland Presents. A fixture of the Los Angeles music scene for more than 20 years, she reflects on a year without concerts — viewed through the prism of the final pre-pandemic Spaceland show she booked, a neighborhood gig with Mapache, one year ago.

By LIZ GARO

It’s been one year of no live music inside venues, no beers sold, no load-in, no soundcheck, no behind-the-scenes magic from a talented production crew, no tickets exchanged, no standing in a crowded room with a drink in your hand being consumed by a single song.

One year dark.

Today, the National Independent Venue Association (NIVA) launched its #OneYearDark campaign as part of its ongoing effort, Save Our Stages. Performance venues will post messages on their marquee and social media signifying the anniversary. At Sunday night’s 63rd annual Grammy Awards, some of the presenters will be workers from independent venues, including L.A.’s Troubadour and the Hotel Café.

As the COVID-19 pandemic decimated the live entertainment industry, Congress last year was presented with NIVA’s Save Our Stages relief bill, and finally, this past week, assistance was approved. As part of the $1.9 trillion American Rescue Plan, the Shuttered Venue Operator Grant sets aside $1.9 billion for venues. Until those funds are distributed, NIVA continues to accept donations to its Emergency Relief Fund.

As live music biz people, NIVA members don’t walk away from anything, but instead problem-solve. Recently launched offshoots NIVA California and the Los Angeles Independent Venue Coalition are lobbying for state funding. The message has remained the same: Performance venues were the first to close and we’ll be the last to reopen. More widespread vaccine distribution is encouraging, but it’s still unknown when indoor shows with 100% capacity will return. This means more venues remain shuttered and increases the likelihood that they may not return.

And all of this isn’t just about good times. Los Angeles County’s creative industries employ 414,945 workers and generate an estimated $7.2 billion. Money spent in local venues goes directly back to the community. For every $1 spent on a ticket at a small music venue, $12 is spent in the local economy on related services.

During these pandemic months, I’ve reflected a lot about small clubs and weird performance spaces, the purpose they serve and why they are needed, beyond any financial gain. These can be vibrant hubs that unlock ideas and launch careers; they are spaces where emotions can run wild and be inspired. You learn life skills and how to interact and truly, deeply can be inspired by what you see, hear and touch.

Maybe it’s just me, but I now think of the last show I booked as some kind of moment that reflected the Echo Park music community — and a bookend to an era. The night of March 12, 2020, remains a time capsule of special moments. The folk duo Mapache, Sam Blasucci and Clay Finch, were having their record release show for “Liberty Street” in the Champagne Room at Taix. The old-school restaurant is at the southern terminus of Liberty Street, where they had lived and recorded their debut for Yep Roc Records.

“When we lived in that house on Liberty Street, Sam and I shared a tiny little room with two twin beds in it,” Finch recalls in the Mapache bio. “The studio was right downstairs, so we had the freedom to try all kinds of new ideas without any pressure or limitations. All the other folks who lived in the house were musicians, too, so it made for this communal atmosphere where everyone was always collaborating and creating together.”

||| Watch: Connor Vandagriff’s mini-doc of Mapache’s night at Taix

That communal feeling was illustrated with the almost “Hey, kids, let’s put on a show” vibe that was apparent during set-up. I say this was “my show” but I was just the conduit — Spaceland was the presenter and we opened up the ethereal doors and covered expenses that allowed everyone to come in and do their thing: Dan Horne brought in the P.A., Sam and Clay decorated the nostalgic banquet room with piñatas and flowers, Mapache’s friends set up the merch table, hospitality was provided by Echo’s overstock of chips and salsa.

Mapache are Glendale natives who had access to the informal independent venue system that is both sandbox and incubator. They also honed their craft at house parties, on college radio shows, at bars in downtown and Highland Park. It was a kind of growing-up-in-public that most artists and bands have to do to get their place on stage.

The night was infused with simple joy. Taix bustled with aging hipsters in the lounge drinking martinis, waiters in starch-white buttoned shirts and black bow ties serving French onion soup or chicken diablo. Mapache and their agent, who had flown in from Chicago, and a few others sat together having a pre-show dinner, casually taking French fries or buttered bread from one another’s plate. This wasn’t a big money show — we were set to break even and then a little extra — but it had value that didn’t show up on spreadsheets: Community friends and relationships; and those Mapache harmonies that sing, soar and sway.

Straw cowboy hats were handed out at the Champagne Room door, and the audience happily wore them. Chairs were lined up in front of the stage and the cash-only bar was quickly at seven people deep. Clay and Sam’s performance included the same friends who had helped make the record, with additional guitarists, keyboardists and vocalists. The audience was made up of people you’ve seen or knew or had bumped into at like-minded shows. People whose names you may not ever know but still got comfort from that familiar face. The night was as comfortable as worn out jeans and T-shirt with coffee stains.

At the end of the show, Sam and Clay talked to fans and graciously took photos with two young Latina women who drove in from Montebello. They giggled and smiled and were so happy to be so close to their favorite band. The DJ played French disco, and the night ended with the remainder of the audience in linked arms dancing in a circle. Piñatas still hung, and the flowers that were in bunches on the merch table were now adorning people’s hair.

It started to sprinkle outside and a few of us walked down to El Prado for a closing drink.

We leaned on the wood bar top getting various glasses poured of natural wine or a Grenache from Loire Valley, hearing tour stories from the bartender and not really paying attention to closing time.

The next day, calls and text messages started to come in about having to shut down. The SXSW conference had been canceled earlier in the month but venues too?

Within hours, decisions were made. And it all just stopped.

Shows were put on hold, tours were in limbo and orders were issued to stay at home. I thought shows would be back by end of the month … then Coachella was moved to October and everything kept getting pushed further out. And all the days just kept rolling into one another. Everyone scrambled to reschedule tours, issue refunds and the conversation was the same every day, “When do you think this will end?”

By June, there were more furloughs and layoffs. For me, the long mourning process began. As more information was out there and the situation became dire, it became clear that it was going to be a while, and we really don’t know what it will be when it returns.

The new normal everyone talks about now may not include the ease of walking in and out of venues and bars greeting friends and strangers with hugs and high-fives. There probably won’t be dancing with linked arms anytime soon. Small businesses have reduced hours or shut down or are up for lease. Twentysomethings have moved back to Poughkeepsie or Kansas, or moved further east to El Sereno where gentrified rents haven’t hit yet. Bands have broken up or haven’t rehearsed in months. Where can you develop your craft now?

They say October shows will be back, but we can’t say for sure; some bands are just writing off 2021 like they did 2020. Music will come back. NIVA will keep fighting and thankfully Mapache will keep singing. I understand that scenes and places and neighborhoods evolve — some quickly and others, maybe like Echo Park, at a more stop-and-go pace. There will be the next generation of creatives that order pizza, shop at Lassens and drink at Low Boy; they’ll have their moments and creative progress and process. But I’m not sure if they’ll get a night like March 12, 2020, at least not for a while.

Liz Garo is the former EVP Talent Buyer for Spaceland Presents, Echo and Echoplex. She is the co-owner of Stories Books & Cafe in Echo Park and the co-owner of a small music venue in Palm Springs, The Alibi.