Okay, Flickr People From Whom I Usually Pilfer. (FPFWIUPs.) You need to take more pictures of the Mint LA, the West Side’s folksiest, bluesiest, rockingest music venue. Because what’s out there is JUST NOT CUTTING IT.
I love the Mint, and not just because it’s sugary and refreshing. It’s a great size, and the people who work there are genuinely nice. ($3 for soda water is a little ridiculous. But that’s not the bartenders’ fault.) I love the glimmering green velvet curtains, and the sad little disco ball. It almost has a small-town juke joint vibe, like you just wandered in off a particularly ugly portion of Pico Blvd and made a beautiful discovery.
What I don’t love are the tables that front the stage — but they take them out for bigger, louder bands, like one of my favorite gigs of ALL TIME, Trombone Shorty and Orleans Avenue.
Saw Jackopierce there with pal Brooke (SMU was apparently in the house, go PONIES!), and was underwhelmed except for one perfect song which I now love, covet and desire. And as Brooke and I discussed, one perfect song might actually be worth the $23 admission. It’s called Please Come to Boston, and it’s actually a Willie Nelson cover. (Good call Brooke! How do you know these things?!) If you get a chance, Please Come to the Mint. It’s magically delicious.
On a personal note, I lost a friend last night. His name was Henry and he was 94. You were one of a kind, mon cher ami. You will be missed.