At the Mix Master : Club Fais Do-do in South-Central brings together a diverse crowd with its Creole flavor and tasty blend of funk, jazz, poetry and blues

Cafe Club Fais Do-do has Angelenos singing the blues.

The 6-month-old venue’s eclectic mix of Southland funk, jazz, blues and hip-hop poetry is enticing a diverse crowd--including such celebs as Matt Dillon and R&B; singer Teena Marie--to the club’s South-Central Los Angeles locale to sample the music and the kitchen’s tasty Cajun cooking.

“Hollywood clubs are all blending into one,” says Richard Lederer, co-owner of Fais Do-do(pronounced fay-doe-doe ). “(We) offer an alternative to metal clubs like the Coconut Teaszer.”

“I turned 30 on the night of the riots,” Lederer’s partner, Steve Yablok, says of last April 29, “and I knew I had to do something to contribute to L.A.”

Ultimately, the “something” was the restoration of the West Adams Boulevard two-story building.

“I walked into the place when it was (Napier’s) bar, and young and old, black and white were dancing together,” Yablok says. “A band was playing for tips, and beans were cooking in the kitchen, and I said, ‘Oh my goodness, this is a special place.’ ”

When he found out the room was in foreclosure, the L.A. native bought it. “I spent time getting to know the neighbors and found out a lot of regulars were from Louisiana,” he says.

The club became Fais Do-do--a Creole term meaning lullaby , specifically the time when the children go to sleep and the parents break out the drinks and start frolicking--and the kitchen began specializing in jambalaya.

With the initial patrons and staff composed of locals, Lederer--a white owner in a predominantly black neighborhood--didn’t feel at odds with the community.

“I didn’t even think about it,” says Lederer, who grew up in Chicago and frequented that city’s blues clubs. “I didn’t know L.A.’s boundaries when I got into this, and that’s a good thing.”

During the tense days of last spring’s riots, Fais Do-do was closed for $50,000 worth of earthquake-proofing. “Every day I drove by to see if it had burned down,” says Lederer, 27. “And each day, it was still there. Those were sleepless nights.”

If the building had been razed, another small piece of L.A. history would have been lost. The Art Deco structure, built in the ‘30s, was originally a bank building before being transformed into a neighborhood bar in 1953.

By the time Lederer and Yablok secured ownership, the 2,300-square-foot club, with its 18-foot ceiling and Southern spirit, was in serious disrepair. “The plumbing was rotted out, the roof was caving in,” Yablok says. But when restoration began, he discovered that they had acquired a diamond in the rough. “We scraped away seven layers of paint and found Honduras mahogany underneath,” he says. “We uncovered a solid-brass door and a black-walnut doorway.”

Even though earthquake construction is well under way, the overhaul appears to be a long-term project.

“If you do it too fast, it’ll scare people away,” says Steven Baker, a neighborhood artist who is aiding Yablok with the refurbishing. “People will think (the club is) going to be expensive. They just want a cheap beer and a game of pool.”

In addition to the 50-cent pool games and the $1.75 beers, Fais Do-do’s main attraction is excellent live music at bargain rates--cover charges range from $2 to $5. From the South-Central blues of the Charlie Chan Band to the Hollywood blues of 21-year-old guitar virtuoso Beto Levato & His Neato Banditos, Fais Do-do’s stage is lit up seven nights a week.

Blues singer Becky Barksdale packs the house regularly with a vocal style reminiscent of Janis Joplin. Turning out weekly for Monday night’s open funk jam, Bumpschool is also a Fais Do-do favorite. The L.A. foursome loses itself in two-hour grooves that dizzy the audience, causing heads to swirl and hips to shake.

One of Fais Do-do’s most treasured bookings is the Watts Prophets. Rapping to the cool jazz of the Underground Railroad, the Prophets--Amde Hamilton, Otis O’Solomon and Richard DeDeaux--have been performing hip-hop poetry together in L.A. since the mid-’60s. Their affecting work explores inner-city issues, offering hope to those who feel disenfranchised.

Their union sprang out of the Watts uprising in ‘65, and many of their themes are echoed by rappers of today.

When the poets perform titles such as “What Color Is Black?” and “Searchin’,” the club is absolutely still, with even bartenders and pool players riveted to every word.

“Last time we performed,” Hamilton says, “a zoot-suited cowboy came up and asked each of us for our autographs.”

Whether over a game of pool or on the dance floor, people can mingle at Fais Do-do who might not get the opportunity elsewhere.

Norbert McCary, 47, is one of Fais Do-do’s lively regulars. The Santa Monica resident moved down from Lake Tahoe after a lucky slot-machine streak and spends his evenings at Fais Do-do spinning tales to anyone within earshot.

If McCary favors a customer, he’ll determine his or her poison and keep a cold one waiting for his guest throughout the evening. If a stranger walks in from the cold looking for bus fare, the former Green Beret will discreetly slip him a fiver and send him on his way.

“This is truly a neighborhood place,” Yablok says. “Most of the

buildings in this neighborhood are owned by absentee landlords who use the spaces as tax write-offs. So a kid decides he’s living in a ghetto.

“A ghetto is what we create in our minds. At the club, we’ve created a space which offers something good for everyone, and it’s respected in the neighborhood.”

With its beat facade and comfortable interior, the building itself has a warm feeling and, inside, the time seems to slip easily away. “The place has a vibe that is so strong,” says Sheldon Strickland, Fais Do-do’s chief booker and co-manager. “There really is a magic here.”

“We saved this building from being torn down,” Lederer says. “It was on the demolishing list, and it would’ve just sat there and been an ugly corner.”

“Without fine arts, there are no fine minds,” says Amde Hamilton. “And a club that brings black and white people together to share in the experience is desperately needed in these times.”

His sign o’ the times statement came brutally to life outside of Fais Do-do one evening in mid-November. The King Brothers were warming up the house with their Chicago-style blues when flashing red lights began to bleed through the windows.

A drive-by shooting had occurred farther down Adams. Guests who had come to the club to celebrate a birthday shook their heads in disbelief at the white car crunched into a telephone pole a few hundred yards from Fais Do-do.

While the young couple at the wheel were taken away in an ambulance, the strains of blues coming out of Fais Do-do never sounded so poignant, the lyrics “Tell me why /Tell me why / Tell me why” drifting into the chilly night air.

Back inside, however, the dancing and parties continued, with the special magic in the old building comforting and insulating patrons from a far-too-typical L.A. occurrence.

“All races party to a common rhythm here,” Yablok says. “It’s all about if we can all get along.”

Behind Fais Do-do’s former stucco walls--which Yablok, Baker and Lederer painstakingly chipped away to reveal smooth white-green cement--and inside the dimly lighted venue, the dance floor is jumping with an array of the city’s ethnic groups moving to that common rhythm. And at such a moment, L.A.’s future looks particularly bright.

Cafe Club Fais Do-do

5257 W. Adams Blvd.

Blues, jazz, funk, poetry

Age limit: 21 and over

Cajun menu; beer and wine

Daily, 3 p.m. to 2 a.m.

(310) 842-6171