The Hills are Alive...

You might not gather from reading this blog or even knowing me in person, but I like to think of myself as open-minded.

I'll eat new foods (particularly if they're spicy).
I'll drink new drinks (particularly if they're alcoholic).
And I'll work for new clients (particularly if they're paying well).

And so it was with great curiosity that my wife and I, while doing our regular hike up the Baldwin Hills Scenic overlook, came across a group of musicians playing in the pavilion erected for weddings, Bar Mitzvahs and other events where people might congregate for pigs in a blanket.

There, we saw a group of musicians cobbled together with no rhyme or reason (literally), "playing" before a spellbound crowd. We had been walking a good three and half miles before we stumbled upon the trio and had assumed we got there just as they were warming up.

There was a lot of tuning up.
A lot of random note playing.
A lot of silence, in between the short spasms of sound.

Little did we know, this was the "music".

Even more confounding were the throngs of people pushing through to get a good seat to listen, I'm sorry, experience, this one-of-a-kind performance. We waited and waited and the music never seemed to get going.

So we laughed and decided we had better things to do with our time -- maybe clean fish or snake the drain in the shower or refill the window washing fluid in the Acura.

Anything.

So on the way out we stopped by the admissions desk and grabbed a flyer with more information and a schedule of upcoming events. I'll want to save the date for those.

Turns out the entire extravaganza was put on (and I use the words 'put on' intentionally) by the quintessentially Los Angeles, SASSAS -- Society for the Activation of Social Space through Art and Sound.

I wish I had video captured the event -- which was like every Woody Allen trope about Southern California all baked into one Bundt cake. Sadly, I didn't.

But SASSAS has thoughtfully archived hours and hours and hours of their musicians, in what can only be described as the Shoah of Performance Art.

To wit:

Even though the event was free, I still wanted to ask someone for my money back.