Since I've become a Sarabethan, I've always wanted to check out the famous Hotel Cafe where she got her start.  I had my first opportunity last Monday, when I attended the Kuzewera benefit. 

I'll start by telling the little I know about the place, based on what I've read.  It's a small concert venue in Hollywood that's been around since 2000.  It's become well-known as a place to discover great talent among singer-songwriters.  It's very artist friendly - small and intimate, where artists regularly get up and perform with each other, and stop in to see each other's shows.  It's difficult to get to play there; you have to demonstrate that you're actively pursuing a career with your music, and that you have a decent-sized following in LA.  Given that, just about anybody you see perform there will be pretty good.  And the tickets are cheap! :)

I mainly went to see Javier play, since I'd never heard his solo work before and I was curious.  I couldn't remember if my ticket was for the whole evening or just for Javier, and I was expecting a huge line, so I left work 2 hrs early.  As it turned out, I didn't need to. 

If you're not looking for it, or driving in the wrong direction past that block, you're likely to miss Hotel Cafe entirely.  It's on a stretch of Cahuenga Blvd between Sunset and Hollywood, surrounded by bars, restaurants, and shops.  The venue occupies part of an old brick building that's bare on the side facing the street.  The name is painted real big on a side wall that faces a narrow alley (which is why you'd miss it if you were going in a particular direction).  To try and figure out where I should park, I drove around the block several times (I wasreallyearly anyway, so I was also killing time), eventually paying $8 to park in a lot a few yards away. (As it turns out, there's a small parking garage right behind the venue.  Oh well.)  I walked around, wondering how to get in and get my ticket; the doors facing the street are all closed off, and it's just a blank wall.  On a door window, it tells you to go around to the back, so I went through the side alley, where the wall was lined with framed posters of artists who either had performed or were soon to perform (I'm not sure which).  In back, there was only a pair of old-looking wooden doors, and they were closed.  No people around outside.  I began to wonder if I had the right night, or even the right place.

I walked down the street and spent a couple hours in Amoeba Music (best music store EVER!), and then I went and got something small at Jack-N-the-Box so I could use their restroom.  When it was about a half-hour before the event was to start, I walked back over to Hotel Cafe, this time seeing a rope outside the doors and a couple of people waiting. 

An Australian woman walked up behind me and asked if this was the line.  I said, "That's my impression," and she laughed.  We started talking.  She was in the States on a 4-week trip, and while here in LA she found out that Cary Brothers was playing that night, and since she's a huge fan she decided on the spur of the moment to come to the show.  Outside there were a couple of hip-looking guys smoking cigarettes chatting, one with an instrument in a bag slung over his shoulder.

It's pretty dark inside Hotel Cafe.  When you go in, you first see the counter where people sell merch, then you walk into a lounge area with a bar.  You go through a pair of wooden double doors to get into the music area.  It's fairly small, about the size of most neighborhood bars.  There are a few tables along a wall and in front of the stage, and the rest is open floor, which is all covered in beautiful wood paneling.  The stage is set off in a corner of the room, with a red curtain hung up behind it.  A black upright piano sits along the wall.  So surreal to be in the place where Sara used to hang out as an unknown artist.

The Australian girl, Emily, sat at my table, and we hung out the whole night.  Over food, we chatted about travel and our countries and accents.  I told her about Javier Dunn, and that he was the guitarist for Sara Bareilles.  She said she knew Sara's name but didn't know any of her music, but when I sang in my best falsetto "I'm not gonna wriiiite you a love sooong," she immediately recognized it.  She went on and on about how excited she was to be able to see Cary Brothers play.  Since she was going to drive to San Francisco, I recommended that she take Highway 1 along the coast for the famous coastal scenery, then take I-5 through the Central Valley to see a side of California that most people never hear about.

Every artist who played that night was really good.  All singer-songwriters, some playing their whole set on the piano where, from my angle, I could only see half their face.  They all seemed to be friends with each other, and they stood in the audience with the rest of us to cheer each other on.  The place wasn't very full.  It had the feel of an open-mic night at a coffeehouse, very relaxed and informal, the only difference being that the music was really professional and really well crafted.  I felt at home immediately, and I wistfully wondered what it would be like to play here, all the while knowing I never would.

Cary Brothers has in interesting sound.  He had a delay pedal hooked up to his acoustic guitar, and it sounded a lot like how the Edge in U2 plays.  Cary sang his songs in this ethereal whisper, most of them full of a lot of deep, passionate emotions. 

Javier went on around 10 or so, second to last.  One of the other artists shouted from the dark audience, "Yeah, Javi!"  He opened with a cover of Peter Gabriel's "Here Comes the Flood", my favorite of his songs.  Javier's voice rings strong and clear, which I never heard when he only sang backup for Sara.  Even when he's on stage by himself playing an acoustic guitar, he moves and sways like he's playing electric with a band.  His songwriting doesn't sound like the mainstream stuff one typically hears in pop music, and I had a hard time deciding whether I liked it.  I would probably have to listen to it a bit more to acquire the taste.  My favorite of his songs was the last one he played.  It had some ocean or sailing theme to it, but I don't remember the name of it.  But I found myself humming it the whole way home.

After he was done, I shook hands with Emily and wished her a good trip, and I headed home.  About halfway there, I realized that I had forgotten to pay my tab and had left my debit card there.  In a panic I called up my credit union and put a block on my card, then I went on Hotel Cafe's website to find a phone number so I could arrange to rectify the situation.  Hotel Cafe doesn't have a phone number.  You can only email.  I sent off emails to a couple different addresses, apologizing and wanting to take care of things as soon as possible.  I worried that I might be put on some sort of blacklist as someone who skipped out without paying and wouldn't ever be let back in.

The next afternoon, I got a brief reply that said I could come back any night after 6:30 to get my card.  I went up that night, told the door guy my situation, and he willingly let me in.  I was directed to the bartender in the music area, where he had "left cards" in a little metal box.  I told him I wanted to pay my tab, but he said he didn't have anything for me.  I explained that I was at a table and had ordered food and a drink, and he looked through his metal box again.  "Well, I don't have anything for you, so I guess it's free for you!"  I felt really bad.  I stood there awkwardly for a minute, then just left.  I really hope Emily didn't get saddled with the bill and had to pay it.  I decided that my conscience owes Hotel Cafe $20, so when I go to see Sonos next week I'm going to pay for my friend's dinner.

I love love love this place!  If you're ever in LA, you must make it a point to hear music played there, no matter what night.