Went to Hollywood. Visited Amoeba Records and flicked through the CDs. Bought a Nick Cave / Mick Harvey / Blixa Bargeld soundtrack for $1. Found copies of the limited-edition reissues of Chorus and Erasure by Erasure and felt proud that the liner notes I’d written had made it all the way to Hollywood. Walked along Hollywood Boulevard and took pictures of the stars belonging to The Beatles and jazz musicians and looked at the Capitol Building, which is a lot shorter than it looks. Then again, Hollywood has made a business out of making things appear different to how they really are.

In North Hollywood, we visited the Iliad Bookshop on Cahuenga. Stroked the resident cats and bought a book about David Byrne and an old 1909 music dictionary, figuring that it might be helpful to learn some basic music knowledge as a music journalist. Good second-hand music book selection. Found a rare Charles Ives biography but it was too bulky to contemplate taking it back to the UK.

Went for brunch at Crossroads, a vegan restaurant on Melrose. Billed as fine dining and presented as a very smart dining room, but actually very casual. Lots of classic rock photos around the room – Devo, Guns n’ Roses, Freddie Mercury, Page / Plant etc – and great soundtrack playing at a volume loud enough to be interesting and low enough to allow conversation. Went there again for lunch twice; same vibe, different food, different soundtrack. Went for dinner at the Calabasas restaurant toward the end of the trip; different neighbourhood; same vibe; harsher aircon.

Took a drive to Hermosa Beach for jazz brunch at the Lighthouse, famed for its use in La La Land. Ate avocado toast, drank good coffee, listened to the Hafez Karimi Trio and enjoyed looking at the record sleeves on the walls. Walked onto the pier outside where Ryan Gosling sings ‘City Of Stars’ in the film. Felt very alive, momentarily. An enthusiastic young street musician was playing guitar while a very disinterested older lady filmed him. Noticing her attention, he started playing with his guitar behind his head. She didn’t show any more enthusiasm while he was performing for her. Staying with La La Land, later in the trip my wife and I took an early morning walk to Cathy’s Corner in Griffith Park, where Gosling and Emma Stone dance around a bench after a party.

Checked into the Sunset Marquis. Famous for being a music industry haunt, but ultra-discrete. Massive Beyoncé poster hanging by the pool. Photos of rock musicians everywhere. Ordered a vodka and grapefruit because that’s what the main protagonist was drinking in The Shards by Bret Easton Ellis in the chapter I’d re-read a day before.

Walked along the Sunset Strip. Walked past the carpark of Mel’s Diner where Buffalo Springfield formed, Mark Mothersbaugh‘s ‘Chernobyl green’ Mutato Muzika studio complex, the old Tower Records (now a Supreme), the Viper Room, the Roxy. Stopped in at The Rainbow for dinner and drinks and, even though I’m not into most of the groups whose photos and memorabilia line the walls, there is something quite magical about being in a place so synonymous with the LA music scene. Ordered drinks from the outside bar, where Lemmy used to sit and play video games all night. Bumped into Jon D’Amico (“Okay, so watch” is the catchphrase he didn’t know he had) from Rock ‘N’ Walk Tours. Jon had walked us along the Sunset Strip when we were here last year and I cannot recommend his tours highly enough. He knows all of the secrets of the Strip. I had planned to publish an interview with him last year but never got around to it. I’ll try to fix that, Jon.

Finished a long night on the Sunset Strip drinking whisky in a very dark bar at the front of the Sunset Marquis, its impenetrable, discrete, shadowy corners populated by more rock photos. Getting very drunk did not help, and I just felt like shit the next day. Apparently, the week after we were here, Keith Richards checked in while the Stones were playing California. During our stay I spoke at length to Logan Steppert, a bellhop who is also an electronic musician. His brilliantly atmospheric 2013 EP Bogenvia with Mike Gaydusek can be found here.

Went to the Whisky A Go-Go three times. My wife loves this venue. She came of age listening to countless bands who played here during the metal 1980s. The first show was an electronic rock trio called Love Stereo (tasting notes of Joy Division) – check out their debut single ‘Fool’ on Bandcamp here. They were followed by Rebel Star, a Bowie tribute band. Their version of ‘Heroes’ had me in floods.

The main draw of two of the Whisky shows was Fast Times, a quintet of Spicoli (Johnny Ventura – vocals, guitar), Kazzy Nova (Eddie Ayala – bass), Riff (Lance Turner – guitar), Crash Diamond (Matt Olofson – drums), and Squid (Sudwyn Munshi – keyboards) who play incendiary sets of 1980s classics, and who are named after the Cameron Crowe movie Fast Times At Ridgemont High. (Sean Penn’s character in the movie is called Spicoli.) We saw them twice last year and found ourselves completely besotted by what they do, hence wanting to see them again this year. Their versions of ‘Personal Jesus’, ‘Enjoy The Silence’, ‘Blue Monday’, ‘Shout’ and ‘Whip It!’ are absolute perfection. They play the Whisky every Monday and anyone with the remotest interest in 1980s music should check them out. My youngest daughter wound up plucking notes on Kazzy Nova’s bass on our second visit, and now wants to learn how to play. Thanks Kazzy.

Right at the end of the holiday we went to the Valley Relics Museum in Van Nuys, where they have loads of exhibits related to Fast Times At Ridgemont High, which was filmed in the area. They also have a Tower Records neon sign from the old La Brea store.

We listened to a lot of Weezer in the rental car on this trip. My wife is obsessed with Weezer. We walked down Montana Avenue in Santa Monica because Rivers Cuomo sings about taking a stroll past places like the Aero cinema in the song ‘Aloo Gobi’.

My Guns n’ Roses-loving wife got to see Gilby Clarke performed on our third and final trip to the Whisky. She wanted to marry him when she was 14 but ended up with me, and has been perpetually disappointed ever since. One of his support groups, Cinema Stereo, reminded me of a messy marriage between Pink Grease and The Hives, fronted by someone who effortlessly blends shades of Elton John, Mick Jagger and Freddie Mercury. Ones to watch. They will be huge one day.

Found ourselves on the old Route 66 a bunch of times, and consequently couldn’t get the song out of my head. Went on the 101 far too many times than was enjoyable, and it reminded me of the 1988 Depeche Mode film / concert of the same name every time I merged into the nail-bitingly stressful traffic. Went to the Pasadena Rose Bowl so my two daughters could go to the huge flea market there. Liked being at the place where 101 was recorded. A singer serenaded us with songs, including a whole section of Neil Diamond songs. My dad loved Neil Diamond.

The previous weekend we went to the Los Feliz flea, which is no longer in Los Feliz but in an old parking lot in Downtown. Bought a US CD copy of The White Room by The KLF from Rock & Sock, a husband and wife team – he sells music; she sells socks and cute cat hairgrips. Had a nice conversation with the husband about Bill Drummond, The KLF and music in general. I needed that. I’d lost my appetite for food before the flight to LA, and I’d simultaneously completely lost interest in music, something which has always given me support and comfort during difficult moments in my life. That conversation gently rekindled my interest in the latter. I don’t know his name, but I want him to know how important that conversation was.

I originally bought The White Room as a teenager from Music Junction in Stratford-upon-Avon, where I grew up. I remember that on the way back home from the shopping trip with my mum and sister where I bought that cassette, we were walking through Clopton Court, where we had lived in an apartment until 1984, when I was seven and my sister was three. We bumped into my dad as we walked along the road that fringed the squat, red brick apartment buildings. He looked stony-faced. We asked what had happened. He had reversed his new red, G-registration Toyota into a signpost at the leisure centre where he’d taught me to swim and was on his way to the Swinton Insurance office at the top of Henley Street to make a claim. It was the first new car he’d ever owned and he absolutely loved it. When I got home and played The White Room, it left me feeling a little disappointed. I can’t help thinking that my dad’s disappointment in having wrecked the car he cherished so much had something to do with that.

Went to Disneyland. Felt sad when I walked past the Sherman Brothers‘ door on Main Street. So many of their songs were part of my childhood, and my daughters’ childhoods. I am unashamedly a fan of Disney, and hoped it would give me some joy during a holiday where I generally felt numb. On our final night at Disneyland, I really enjoyed ‘It’s A Small World’, whose pretty theme tune was a Sherman Bros. composition; I’ve been on that ride countless times but this was the first time it really moved me.

Later in the trip we visited the Hollywood Museum, located in a genuine slice of old Hollywood, the Max Factor makeup building off Hollywood Boulevard. On the wall was a framed print from Disney’s ambitious Fantasia with the signatures of Walt Disney and Leopold Stowkowski beneath it, which took my breath away. I keep finding out interesting things about Stowkowski and his involvement with experimental music, something I hope to write about in the future. Went to the Hollywood Bowl to listen to 1980s and 1990s Disney songs played with a full orchestra, conducted by Sarah Hicks, who had been the conductor at the Rufus Wainwright Proms concerts I reviewed for Clash last year. The Disney concert was very special, in an absolutely incredible venue up in Griffith Park. My eldest daughter cried when she got to hear Susan Egan (Meg from Hercules) and Jodi Benson (Ariel from The Little Mermaid) perform on stage.

Dropped in to Highland Park for a few hours. Went to an incredible vinyl-only record store called Gimme Gimme Records. I didn’t buy anything – transporting vinyl on Transatlantic flights is something I’ve done before and it’s inordinately stressful – but I found a copy of Thomas Dolby’s The Flat Earth, whose Assorted iMaGes sleeve by Baker Dave I’d written about on the flight over. Found myself looking at Neil Diamond LPs. Visited Licorice Pizza in Studio City. Found myself looking at Neil Diamond LPs again.

Went to a hip place called Justine’s Wine Bar in Frogtown. Ate good vegan food and enjoyed a playlist curated by the guy at the bar consisting of late-70s / early-80s post-punk music – New Order, Wire etc. I recommended that he listen to Rema Rema and watch Marco Porsia’s documentary about them, What You Could Not Visualise. I admitted that I’m biased, as I’m in Marco’s film. He asked me if I was in “the industry” – a very Los Angeles term – which I suppose I am.

Checked into a beautiful 1920s Airbnb off Beachwood Drive. In the lounge were loads of interesting books, including Jon Wozencroft’s book on Neville Brody. It was a moment of complete coincidence, as Jon was one of a small number of collaborators I’d been messaging during the holiday. Although I was taking an enforced break from an intense period of Mortality Tables activities, I chose the holiday as the perfect time to revisit discussions with Jon about a Mortality Tables sound / visual project we’ve been working on for a while.

In Downtown LA, we visited The Last Bookstore. Looked through the second-hand vinyl and found more Assorted iMaGes sleeves I’ve written about, as well as some of Baker Dave’s designs for Phil Collins albums. More Neil Diamond LPs. Got mildly frustrated by the aisles of people taking photos of people looking at books to post on social media, and who then walked out the store without buying a single book. I also didn’t buy a book, but both of my daughters did.

Drove out to Laurel Canyon and stopped in on the Canyon Country Store. Bought coffee from the front porch and used the restroom, which is down in the basement in the stockroom. Mama Cass from Mamas And Papas used to live here when she had nowhere else to stay. Saw the apartment where Jim Morrison used to live, its balcony overlooking the store. He wrote ‘Love Street’ from Here Comes The Sun while living there, calling it the “store where the creatures meet”.

Toward the end of the holiday, my wife booked for us to visit Lake Shrine, an oasis of spiritual calm tucked away in a bend on Sunset Boulevard in Pacific Palisades close to Santa Monic. George Harrison’s memorial service was held here, and they hold some of Gandhi’s ashes. My wife and daughters left me on my own for a while. I meditated, reflected, cried and listened. I read a message from my friend Gareth, who had offered me his typically accurate advice on how to approach grief. We checked into an Airbnb cabin high up in Topanga Canyon on the day we visited Lake Shrine. I spent a lot of time outside, just listening to sounds from across the canyon.

During the entire vacation I was often visited by hummingbirds and dragonflies. I fell in love with the sound of hummingbirds during my time in LA. I looked up the symbolism of both. I wasn’t surprised at all at why they featured so prominently during this trip, at this precise moment in my life.

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My father passed away five days before we left for Los Angeles.

I spent a lot of the vacation in a state of raw numbness. I could feel no joy. Things that should have made me happy left me feeling nothing. My mood fluctuated ceaselessly but I couldn’t ever get myself out of this awful intermediate, middling place where nothing made me happy and nothing impressed me.

My father’s influence on my music taste was just one of the most significant and powerful things he unwittingly gave me, so I wasn’t surprised when I suddenly lost my appetite for listening to anything. I wouldn’t have ventured into music journalism without the seeds he planted at the start of the 1980s – watching Gary Numan on The Old Grey Whistle Test together while my mother was out at work waitressing and when I should have been in bed; listening to ‘Joan Of Arc’ and ‘Joan Of Arc (Maid Of Orleans)’ by OMD in the car on Saturday mornings while he worked his second job as a debt collector; him bringing home a VHS copy of Soft Cell’s Non-Stop Exotic Video Show VHS that he’d borrowed from a colleague at his day job in a factory and letting me watch something that was patently not suited to a five-year-old boy.

Later, he brought home a TDK cassette of The Innocents by Erasure and asked me if I liked them as he handed over the copy a friend had made. He was completely unaware of just how significant that transaction would prove to be in my life. I had the opportunity to tell him how transformative these moments were before Alzheimer’s fully ravaged his mind and took him further and further from us.

My mother and sister tasked me with creating a playlist for his funeral while we were on holiday. It was the mixtape I never thought I’d have to make and I found it extraordinarily painful to compile. It can be found here.

We wanted to include something from the 1950s. He grew up in the rock ‘n’ roll era and it felt appropriate to include something from that period, but I found myself panicking that I couldn’t think of a single song that he liked from that decade. I was at the Knott’s Berry Farm theme park at the time, walking by myself to a viewing platform. As I rounded a corner into a different themed area of the park, the music changed and Eddie Cochran’s ‘C’mon Everybody’ began playing. Dad loved that song. It somehow unlocked the entire playlist.

Less than ten days before he passed away, my Mortality Tables collaborative project released The Engineer, which involved contributions from over thirty artists. It was loosely inspired by my father, who worked as a mechanical engineer for more or less all of his adult life. We deliberately released it on what would turn out to be my last Father’s Day with a father, and paid all profits to the Alzheimer’s Society.

I had been working on The Engineer for over ten years and was determined to release it this year. I now know why I was so driven to make that happen in 2024. The Engineer can be found here.

Words and photos: Mat Smith

Thanks to Logan Steppert, Jon Paul Gwozdz, Fast Times, Tommy Gelinas.

(c) 2024 Further.