My First LA Concert: Confessions of a Wannabe

Los Angeles, California. The city where dreams are made. We move here from all over the world for the same goal: to be somebody. It sounds so easy, doesn't it? If you've got the talent and the looks, all you have to do is hop on a bus and you'll be a star.

Not so much.

I moved to California two years ago. In that time I've held more day jobs than most people have in their entire lives. Bartending, telemarketing, pushing the latest skin cream and the hippest cosmetics... basically everything but what I really want to be doing.

A friend of mine recently got a job at a corporate holiday party where they dressed her up like Madonna and had her sign autographs. Only in Hollywood...

So what is it I want to be doing? Acting and singing, of course. Me and everyone else.

Let me tell you a little something about being a musician in this town.

Now keep in mind, I started performing with my trusty guitar back in Boston, where there's a tremendously strong folk scene. At times it almost seemed as if you could be absolutely wretched and people would still come see you and smile.

Hello, culture shock.

My first concert here took place about two weeks after I first stepped out of my car following the lonely weeklong drive.

I was booked at The Viper Room, a place with a rich history of incredible music and star-studded attendance. The ultimate place for the cliché of "sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll," and a perfect place to make my west coast debut.

I knew I did not have a following here yet, so I hit a couple open mikes beforehand in preparation. Of course I wouldn't have a huge crowd, but I was okay with that.

So I arrived at the venue a couple hours early. There were several guys smoking out front, making lewd comments I took as compliments (is there any other way?).

When I stepped inside and saw the stage I remember thinking it was a little smaller than I'd pictured. I mean, I played shows in college on far bigger stages.

I had no idea.

I was immediately thrust downstairs to an ominous-sounding place a bartender called "The Acoustic Room," about which everyone upstairs seemed to care very little.

By the time I entered the basement, I understood why.

The Viper Room's acoustic area is little more than a ten by ten room with a bar about the length of a bathtub. Lacking any sort of actual stage (or elbow room, for that matter), I quickly attempted to locate my booker.

While a young girl croaked on the "stage" while leaning over to read lyrics off a piece of paper she had placed on a stool nearby, I asked just about everyone where I could find the person in charge.

Nowhere to be found.

I greeted a few of my new "fans" as they entered, some I'd met at the open mikes and some I'd talked to on MySpace. I decided to go with the flow and prepare to go on.

The girl finished her set, grabbed her friends, and rushed out the door.

"How odd," I thought, "that they're leaving immediately following her set."

I would later learn that this is how it goes here-people show up to see the artist they want to see and leave right away. I've never seen that happen anywhere else, not even in other big cities like New York and Chicago, where there's a certain amount of respect for art.

In this particular case, I brushed it off as simple naïveté and tried to determine when I would be taking the stage.

"I am so sorry, hun, but," the woman selling tickets voiced with a frown, "gosh, he should have called you... our last few sets of the night were cancelled because of what's going on upstairs."

As I stood in silence, jaw dropped, I heard one of my new fans jump in angrily.

"Do we at least get our money back?" he demanded.

Wow, what a way to build a following. Invite them to a concert where they pay to see me and end up disappointing them. Welcome to LA, Mary.

Believe it or not, the night ended up turning out great. Five or six of those who came to see me decided to treat me to a late dinner at Mel's Drive-In, where the food is just as awesome as the atmosphere.

Funnily enough, I was even recognized by another individual who just happened to be dining there as well. I felt like a celebrity!

It was pretty neat spending the evening with people from all walks of life who'd been brought together by music-- my music. It reminded me of my old Boston days.

I guess it goes to show that music is capable of bringing people together in a wonderful way regardless of circumstances against it. Just like in the movies, we all laughed and joked about the incident at the Viper Room-- and we knew it would be a great story to tell someday.