Enter Soundman

Sounding off on L.A.’s best and worst sound guys.
by Glenn Dugan

Some people will tell you that if you find a soul mate who understands you, never let them go. I don’t know much about that. What I do know is that if you find a good sound guy, hold on to him for dear life. Whether you’re a band member, a club manager or part of the paying audience, a well-manned sound system is your best friend. (Pardon the “man” heavy jargon, I simply can’t bring myself to utter a phrase as inane and vague as “sound person,” no matter how politically correct it might be.)

Sound guys are rock’s gatekeepers; ideally they should make a band sound as good as they are, but a squealing microphone, a guitar you can’t hear, or a feed-backing amp that sends the crowd ducking for cover will do it every time. Here’s a guide to the best and worst.

Silverlake Lounge
There’s a lot to be desired of this bare bones establishment, but it mostly has to do with the drinking environment. As for sound, the Silverlake Lounge gets an A in my book. The place is shaped like a sound man’s wet dream: low ceilings and the long, rectangle-shaped room make it perfect for funneling sound waves straight into a packed crowd on the cheap. What’s more, the constantly drunk, goateed Asian dude in the top hat who manages most of their shows knows how to work it. If you plug in and tune up and you don’t see anyone behind the board, don’t worry. He’s a ghost twiddler. And by the time you strike that first perfect chord, he’s already down at Little Joy picking up chicks.

Spaceland
Whether you buy into this place’s aging, hipster cult status or not, you’ve got to admit that the dudes at the soundboard (which is ample!) know nothing about rock and roll. Sure, they’re schooled in funky-clothed, twee-imitation indie rock. And they can pull off an acoustic folk bill, where all they have to do is mic a trumpet. But when it comes to handling a real reverb-laden guitar band, Spaceland just isn’t equipped. I’ve seen local bands like the Warlocks totally humiliated with a shit-sounding set, and even bigger, well-rehearsed acts like the Raveonettes lose it. The main sound guy, Christo, who works the big bills, is a nice enough dude, but I’ve heard tales of three-hour sound-checks that actually make a band sound worse than their average spur-of-the-moment rehearsal. That’s not good.

The Troubadour
Considering this venue remains one of the most visited clubs among A&R sleaze, you’d think they’d make it a priority to sound professional. Instead it’s hit or miss. Your best bet here is to see the kind of diva that throws a fit if their monitor isn’t perfect. For anything else, this revolving door of sound engineer dorks couldn’t care less about the average concertgoer’s experience. I’ve not only walked out on a show because of the sound (the Walkmen four years ago), but I’ve seen bands walk out on their own show (the Scene Creamers three years ago). This is no place to see music unless you have no choice.

Mr. T’s Bowl
Ten years ago, this dive-bar bowling alley turned dive-bar music venue had a renaissance, and much of it was thanks to their tradesman, Arlo. One look at him, and you’d have no idea that he’s worked the knobs for everyone from Kim Deal to Beck. Nowadays, he deals mostly with crusty open mic addicts and a good deal of gin and tonics, but the man knows his sound. He puts musicians at ease, he’s down to earth and is most likely entirely deaf from his time behind the board. But he comes from an age when a sound man was responsible if shit didn’t work. There’s a reason an old L.A. indie grunge group named themselves Arlo: To play under him is a pleasure.

The Smell
Knocking the Smell for having shitty sound makes as much sense as buying ripped jeans for a hundred bucks: The place is what it is—a punk club. And your $5 donation does not buy a full-time sound guy. What it buys is the commitment of an incredibly generous, and probably very bored, volunteer who spins a Smiths record between sets and tries to make sure that the cavernous echo doesn’t obscure most of the bands’ cheap distortion pedals. Play here only if you know how to work your own amp.