"Studies show that when city revenue goes down, traffic tickets go up," said my brother Mr. Smarty Pants a few weeks ago.

My brother is right given this story about Devonshire Division LAPD filing a grievance against superiors for forcing officers to adhere to traffic ticket quotas (and the Federal Reserve report from which he quoted). I now thoroughly believe that this is the reason behind my traffic ticket issued by Devonshire Division last May for "failing to come to a complete stop." (I tried to argue that I did stop or, at least, "totally paused" for ten seconds, but you try arguing with LAPD when the officers are actually being decent to you.) The ticket alone was under $150, but with all of the processing fees, driving school fees and misc. charges, it came to just over $300. Plus, there is that hour-and-a-half that I had to spend in line at the Chatsworth courthouse that I will never get back. Los Angeles, sometimes I really hate this place.

Irritation with L.A. was the big topic of discussion between Carlos and I last night. We were at the Knitting Factory watching Death of a Dancer ("Hey," I said to Carlos. "They forgot Disco. Are they trying to keep it one word shy of copyright infringement?" "I don't think you can get busted for naming your band after a song," he answered. "After all, there is Pretty Girls Make Graves. That is a great song title."), The Bubonic Plauge (excellent band, although the mix inside the Alterknit Lounge left much to be desired) alongside Pop Noir and Cute Phase, who we have mentioned here plenty of times before. Both Pop Noir and Cute Phase played the best shows we have seen them perform yet.

In between the sets and after the show, we were talking about the bands and the whole dynamic of the Los Angeles scene. We will be the first to admit that our music scene is awful, but, this isn't because of the bands. In fact, I would argue that Los Angeles has more top notch acts crossing all genres than any other metropolis. The problem with this city is the people, those L.A. types that seem to personify the city (i.e. the people who want to know what you do for a living and how successful you are at it before they will befriend you) even though we are willing to bet most of them are actually from some shithole where everyone makes fun of L.A. for doing just those things.

Carlos and I have spent over a decade involved in the music scene, not just going to shows but booking them, DJing at them, writing about them, etc. Each of us could probably make a successful claim that we have seen well over 1000 bands play live. The one constant with local band nights is that the crowds are always small, much smaller than you would imagine for the second biggest city in the country. A large crowd for a local show is somewhere in the neighborhood of 100 people. Your typical show probably has between 20 and 30 people in attendence. (For the record, last night the crowd fluctuated between 30 and 50 people.)

People make excuses all the time, saying that it's just because parking is expensive or covers are too high or we all have to sit in an hour of traffic every morning to go to our job that is only two miles from home. I'm not convinced that all those are valid. There have been plenty of times where I was the between-band DJ and somehow ended up with an open-ended guest list. I might have 30 people tell me that they want to go and, out of those 30 people, five will actually show. It's hard enough being a DJ out here, but I can tell you that DJs have it much easier than the bands. Imagine playing show after show for years, constantly improving your sound, slowly turning into something exciting and still not being able to count on your friends, let alone the people on your MySpace page, to make an appearance.

Really, the only way for an L.A. band to get big in its hometown is to blow up somewhere else. (Examples: The Blood Arm, Ima Robot, Cold War Kids, The Adored.) Once you have been namechecked by a foreign band or on an out-of-town blog or your song ends up played on Steve Lamacq's show, you are pretty much set. In L.A., you don't have to prove that you are any good. You just have to prove that you are popular.

Here is a little personal aside that might help explain this mindset. When I was in middle school, I listened to KROQ, wore my mom's castoffs from the 1960s and 70s and was in the midst of a begging scheme to get a pair of Docs out of my parents (which I got right after eighth grade graduation). My friends were voiciferous in their opposition to my wardrobe and music choices.
("Liz, why do you have to look so weird?" "Why must you listen to all those sad sack British bands?") Then we started high school, where all of the cool juniors and seniors wore Docs with their uniforms and vintage clothes on free dress days and played Stone Roses and Primal Scream on their car stereos. My friends quickly changed their tunes and their wardrobes. This city is like a fifteen-year-old girl searching for reassurance that she is cool.