When I was growing up in Long Beach in the 1990s, it felt like I was in the center of the music world. KROQ seemed to be walking up and down the streets looking for local musicians to put on their airwaves – then, predictably, a few months later I’d see that band’s video on MTV and they’d be off and running.
The Offspring went from playing at Java Lanes to stardom, Sublime went from playing on the Peninsula to a No. 1 album. My dad used to drink at the Reno Room with No Doubt, then my friend Ryan would run into their drummer at the Heartwell Golf Course driving range the next morning — a month later, that band was smashing sales records.
As this was happening, seemingly on a monthly basis, some of my friends were annoyed. There was excitement for seeing bands blow up, but there was some pain, too. A bittersweet melancholy at having a local secret become a national success — albums suddenly cost more, concert tickets became unaffordable.
It wasn’t a sadness I ever shared, though. I always wanted the bands or writers I liked to have success, even if it meant it was harder for me to be a fan. And in all honesty, I always looked down my nose at my friends who thought success was “selling out” or who didn’t cheer on our favorite bands’ fortunes. I never really understood their position.
Until, that is, my wife and I pulled up to Obra Bakery for our usual Saturday empanadas a few weeks ago and saw a line that went out the door and around the corner.
Let me explain.
Radio and MTV no longer serve as the golden-brick road to stardom — now it’s TikTok and Instagram that bring in the bucks. Someone made a TikTok about how good Obra’s empanadas are, and that TikTok ended up with a couple of million views. Suddenly our fun Saturday routine was the hottest order in town.
My wife and I aren’t on TikTok, so we didn’t realize that one of our favorite local spots had been featured and suddenly became a happening destination. We opted not to wait in an hour-long line for the food we usually walk right up and snag, which was a good thing: Obra ended up selling out early due to the increased demand anyway.
I know fans of Heritage had the same dilemma after the restaurant got its Michelin star last Summer. You’re happy for a local business to get a big boost of support, but at the same time, you wish that line for empanadas or reservations was back to being a little more manageable.
I’ll do my best to push the selfish feelings down and just be happy for Obra until the lines return to normal. But, and I’m just saying, it would be a lot easier to push those negative feelings down if I had a belly full of empanadas to hide them under.
Long Beach Bites
We got a chance to catch my son’s friend Leo and his band The Amateurs play a show at DiPiazza’s recently. The Amateurs are in middle school but are a pretty rad three-piece rock band. Playing a first gig at DiPiazza’s is, of course, a time-honored tradition in Long Beach. I played a show there in high school, and my college friends’ bands all played there. It was cool to see kids getting that seminal experience while I burned my mouth on DiPiazza’s pizza (another time-honored tradition, at least with me). Lots of things change in Long Beach and I’m always grateful for the fun traditions that last.
There’s a lot of fun Halloween-themed things to do in Long Beach but my favorite this year was Fairbrook Manor in East Long Beach, a homegrown (and home-hosted) haunted house that was so popular it was actually shut down by the city briefly. These kinds of fun, quirky new traditions have always been one of my favorite things about Long Beach, and my kids and their friends had a great time running nervously through the maze. Here’s hoping that our city keeps finding ways to let these unique local hangouts flower and flourish.