#thesweethurt

Growing up in San Diego, Los Angeles was always the enemy.  In my mind, it existed as a city of ugliness and artifice, bad burritos and, worst of all, Raider fans.  As a San Diegan, it was hard not to feel like the illegitimate country cousins of the big city up north.  We had the beach and the military, but not the cool or the championships.  When I first started playing out, I maintained my suspicion of LA like it was my birthright, reluctant to expand my understanding of it beyond that stretch of Sunset Boulevard between Intelligentsia and Amoeba Records.  The only venues I knew were the Hotel Cafe, the original Largo, and Tangiers.

Most of the stories I have from that time reflect my narrow understanding of LA.  There was the time I got lost in the alleyways around the old Largo, stressing out about having to share the stage with Sarah Watkins and Hilary Hahn.  Flanagan ended up giving me a tin of bread crumbs when I left back to San Diego in case I ever needed to find my way back.  A slightly inebriated hero of mine, John Doe, called me a hipster that night.  I remember thinking I was in no man’s land when we’d go to Mr. T’s Bowl to play with the Cat Hair Ensemble.  At the time, I had no way of knowing the difference between Eagle Rock and Echo Park.  There were the times I’d go sit in with the musicians who would become the new school of LA Jazz at Danny Masterson’s jazz nights being embarrassed that I’d showed up with a violin instead of a horn or guitar.  Those memories remain in a Los Angeles that has molted so many times it doesn’t exist anymore.

I did eventually make the jump to LA (when I just couldn’t make the move to New York a reality), I reconnected with Wendy Wang, who I’d met when we used to play together with Angela Correa.  She had since gone on to play with acts like Priscilla Ahn and The Bird and the Bee as well as her own band The Sweet Hurt and I reached out to her as you do when you’re a new person in a new city.  Wendy, ever gracious, invited me to play with her at Will Geer’s Theatricum in Topanga Canyon as part of a Dolly Parton tribute put on by Inara George.  When I first moved to LA, I always imagined I’d be part of that Hotel Cafe, Largo singer-songwriter scene that I’d seen from afar and it was a shock to see so many of those people in the same place.  I remember Charlie Wadhams in Dolly drag, John C. Reilly in his full Dewey Cox regalia, the Living Sisters, and so many other singers and producers I’d only ever seen in the liner notes.  

I remember running into Wendy once five or six years ago in Germany or Switzerland someplace at a music festival and she told me then that she wasn’t sure that the road was the place for her, that she wanted to try to be in one place, to have a life.  While I’m still loving the rollercoaster ride that is being a touring musician (and never not questioning when I might finally want to get off the ride), I admire the way she’s followed through on that desire, completely free of the fear and loathing of Los Angeles I’d kept with me.   In LA, she has undoubtedly carved out a special place for herself.  I know Wendy has a Sweet Hurt record waiting to emerge that showcases her beautifully assured songwriting and production.  So I asked Wendy to cover “The One I Love,” the song I’m most assured of, and I’m grateful for her sharing a little of that talent with me.

Here’s a little tune for you from Savio Savio.  

A Christmas tune at the outset, but really, it could be any time of year.

Hope you like it.