Whatever happened to Rock ‘n’ Roll in the Valley

Bruce Springsteen did it in 1978. Elvis Costello, the Police and the Pretenders followed. Next came U-2, Eurythmics, Ted Nugent and Tom Petty.

All performed at San Fernando Valley nightclubs when they could have filled--and, in several instances, were filling--the country’s premiere concert halls. In the late ‘70s and early ‘80s, the same Valley that Bing Crosby once crooned about had become a showcase for the cutting edge of popular music.

That’s when the Valley was cool.

The Country Club in Reseda featured top rock acts. The Palomino in North Hollywood, the nation’s most prominent country nightclub at the time, was so far out that British rockers deemed it “in.” The Sundance Saloon in Calabasas, with its old wooden bar and makeshift stage, was the spot players would stop in unannounced to try out their new tunes.

But that was then, and this is now.

The Sundance--a tiny club where the Boss stopped by in between sold-out shows at the Forum--is now a white-tablecloth restaurant.

The Palomino hasn’t changed physically since Costello, Sting and Chrissie Hynde performed there nearly a decade ago. But it no longer attracts rebellious superstars trying to make a statement by performing at the decidedly unglamorous venue.

Chuck Landis’ Country Club, which had replaced West Hollywood’s Roxy Theatre as the place chosen for record companies trying to call attention to their acts, now features bands from the L.A. club circuit rather than from around the world.

In the late 1980s, the suburbs are rocking to a different beat.

Some suggest that it’s not the clubs that have changed, but rather those who used to frequent them. Middle-aged rock ‘n’ rollers “are not aware of the up-and-comers,” as one record executive put it. Bands playing Valley clubs today, he hinted, just could be the stars of tomorrow.

Others blame the decline of the Valley’s rock circuit on “four-walling,” a music business term that applies to clubs that rent their rooms to outside bookers and to bands themselves. Rather than

a club contracting a band based on perceived talent and audience appeal--and shouldering the financial consequence if the band fails to draw--four-walling guarentees a certain number of ticket sales. If sales fall short, the booker makes up the difference, and if sales surpass the guarantee, they keep the excess. This policy places a premium on profits over talent.

Bob Merlis, Warner Bros. Records vice president in charge of national publicity, calls the Valley’s fading rock ‘n’ roll star part of “an organic process.”

“Times change and people want new places,” he said. “In the early ‘80s, the Roxy was in an eclipse and the Country Club took over. But then the Country Club situation went through a lot of permutations and their booking policy changed--it’s become a four-wall situation like the Roxy.”

Where an act appears in the L.A. area is determined by its popularity and the type of music it plays.

“Artists with major-label affiliations tend toward the Palace,” Merlis said. “If it’s a roots kind of act, they go to Club Lingerie; if it’s folk, they go to the Roxy, or maybe the Pal.

“The Country Club no longer comes to mind,” he added. “Its being so far away from Hollywood doesn’t help their cause.”

Scott Hurowitz, the Country Club’s operations manager for 18 months, is not about to argue. “If the Country Club were in Hollywood, it would be a lot easier to sell out shows.”

But “we give the Palace a run for the money,” he insisted.

Big-name bands do appear at the Country Club, “but usually older names” like Blue Oyster Cult and Krokus, Hurowitz said. He is quick to mention the club’s last few superstar bookings--Mick Jagger and Prince, who performed last year.

“The trouble with booking national acts is that we only hold 900, so we can’t compete with the Palace,” which holds 1,200. “We can’t experiment like they do--and maybe lose money one night--because we can’t be sure we can make it up on another night.”

The shortage of stellar bands seems like a minor problem compared to the legal battles faced by the Country Club. Following complaints by its Reseda neighbors of unruly behavior by club-goers, the Country Club’s dancing and on-site liquor permits were revoked pending a June 7 appeal. The Japanese cartel that owns the club has said it will continue operations even if the appeal is lost.

Surrounded by auto repair shops and fast-food places, the Palomino rarely offends its neighbors. But its patrons might yearn for the days when Costello and Sting graced the stage.

What they’ll see instead are performers like Phil Seymour, Billy Zoom, Albert Lee, Elvin Bishop and Dave Alvin, and bands from the local circuit.

Under the direction of Billy Thomas (son and nephew, respectively, of original owners Bill and Tommy Thomas), the club has forsaken its country roots for a rock focus.

“As many as 10 years ago, the club started getting out of country because there is no country market here anymore; the demographics just aren’t right,” Thomas said. “We still have country acts, but we don’t seek them out like we do rock bands.”

So he tries to fill the 480-seat room with as many big names as possible. “We get some bands we shouldn’t, given our size, because of the aura here and because it’s a good room to play.” But the caliber of the bands varies.

“We still are kind of a stomping ground for the older guys,” Thomas said. “We had Taj Mahal here a little bit back and, by chance, in the audience was Bob Dylan, George Harrison, Jackson Browne and John Fogerty. One by one, all of them except Jackson got on the stage and played.

“A week after that, we had a few guys from Los Lobos and, after that, Greg Allman walked in and did some songs,” he added. “It’s rare to have that type of talent--legends--but we still get them.”

“You have to remember that when Elvis played at the Palomino,” Warner’s Merlis pointed out. “It was a tip of the hat to country music and, when the Pretenders were there, they already had their Forum sound system. It was the exception.”

But the veteran record company executive does realize that exceptions sometimes become rules, as they did 10 years ago when the Valley enjoyed its glory days as the heart of the rock ‘n’ roll.

“You never know,” he said. “It could happen again.”