Los Angeles, California. The city of fallen angels, where the ocean meets the sand. I gotta say, love your weather, love the sites, wouldn’t mind packing a tent and staying in Santa Monica forever. Now you have to remember one thing before we get into this, I was born in London, England. Growing up my parents’ musical tastes couldn’t have been more opposite. Mum was partial to Springsteen, Bowie, T-Rex, Thin Lizzy, Queen and the like. Dad was more into old school country western, guys like Don Williams, Kris Kristofferson, Willie Nelson, Dolly Parton etc. so I had a fairly eclectic musical upbringing. My musical awakening took place when I had just started secondary school, so roughly at the age of 11 or 12. The music my mates at the time were listening to was mostly pop or rap, naturally I instantly I hated the later of those two options, and at the time the biggest bands on the tele were Blink-182, Linkin Park, Nirvana etc. It was cool, but it wasn’t the sound I was looking for. I must have had KerrangTV on one morning and I remember mum said, “you should listen to Guns n’ Roses, you’d really like ‘em”. Being young and foolish, I scoffed at the idea that mum knew better than I did but a few days later, the Gunners came on the custard, and begrudgingly, I gave it 20 seconds of my time.
To say it changed my
life would be an understatement, I was instantly hooked. The video was for
Sweet Child O’ Mine was revolutionary, if you’ve ever watched it, you’d know it starts off
with all the guys just setting up, camera men moving around, the Rotty hanging
by the drums and then Slash walking up to the camera, plugging in and playing one
of the most iconic riffs ever. BOOM! I was hooked. THIS was the sound I
was looking for. It sent chills up my spin and still does to this day at
certain moments. Wild how a melody can do that eh? So, there I am, 12 years
old, listening to Appetite for Destruction on my little boom box and taping
their music videos on a VHS player to watch over and over again. I remember I had
to save up my allowance for 3 weeks before going down to HMV to buy AFD. Remember
the old days of actually going out and buying music? Sometimes I feel like a
fossil. Alas, from this introduction to what I soon learnt was “hair metal”, I
discovered Ratt, Crue, Skid Row, and the entirety of the Sunset Blvd in the
1980’s. I still to this day cannot get enough of 80’s hair bands, the cheesier
the better! Naturally this of course led me to always and forever wanting to
drink pints at the Mecca of hair metal; The Rainbow Bar & Grill. As it
happens years after this introduction to GnR, I met Slash one night after a gig
and he signed my tattoo. I had nothing clever or remotely intelligent to say to
the wanker, I was a whisker star struck and after, sobbed like a 13-year-old girl who had just met Bieber.
And yes, in case you’re wondering, I chucked a sickie at work the next morning,
went straight to the tattoo shop and got his autograph tattooed in me.
Back to The Rainbow. I’ve
spent countless nights at there over the years, most recently to see a couple mates for a quick weekend rip who were over from Aus. It’s always packed, it’s always
a party and there’s never a moment someone even half famous isn’t in there. My
first encounter at the holiest of holy sites came on a sunny April afternoon. I
got too LAX, rented a rag top Mustang, drove straight to Sunset with the top down
and the tunes up. As I came over the brow of a hill onto Sunset, Paradise City by
GnR came on the radio, and the infamous Rainbow Bar & Grill sign came into frame.
Almost like something out of a movie, Steven Spielberg couldn’t have directed
something better.
Sadly, I never
visited until after the passing of the godfather of rock but since his passing,
they’ve erected a nice statue honouring the man that kept them in business for
so many years. They’ve also dubbed the patio area “Lemmy's Lounge” and
dressed it from floor to ceiling in Motorhead decor. If there ever came
a day where this bar closed, the world needs to start a GoFundMe to turn this
building into a bloody museum. Every square inch of wall space tells a story.
I’m not a gambling man, but you could safely bet there have been more sins
committed inside these four walls than there were in the Bible. From the moment
you walk onto these sacred grounds you can feel there’s a buzz in the air from
all the rockers, rollers, beggars, and hanger on's putting in their shift. There's
not much more to say really, other than it’s just our mecca, our home away from
home, our gathering place. A totally judgement free zone for anyone that loves a
good rock bar.
I think the thing I
love most about this place is that it’s just authentic to itself, it isn’t trying
to change according to any trends of the day, and it hasn’t ever been something
its not. It’s always just been the bar you go to drink at before and after going
to a show at The Whiskey or The Viper Room.
#RIPLemmy.
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