Any doubt about which city has the biggest exotic music scene was dispelled on a recent Saturday as we joined about 1,500 smartly dressed citizens who jammed the Park Plaza hotel for Exoticon ’95, a shameless celebration “of suave and leisure lifestyles.”
The musical lineup sampled the entire range of forgotten pop music from kitsch to classy. It featured erstwhile TV organist and philosopher Korla Pandit, the Phantom Surfers and the ultra-slick Combustible Edison--"music that people thought was taboo because their parents listened to it but is actually fun and creative and interesting,” as promoter Josh (Strike) Eick puts it.
“It’s a rediscovery of Los Angeles culture of the past,” he says. “It’s all this culture and history that’s been hidden for the last 30 years. We feel like archeologists for discovering this world of kooky hairdos.”
Still, current events did influence this retro-cool event. A bureaucratic glitch caused a delay in the Park Plaza’s cabaret permit, meaning that the expansive ballroom packed with eager rug-cutters featured the omnipresent sign “No Dancing.”
Yuffies, Unite!: We spotted this nifty item on a local Internet news group: “Are you not a yuppie? Is your TRW bigger than an Auto Club map? Do you identify more with Phoebe, Joey and Rachel on ‘Friends,’ as opposed to their more successful counterparts, Chandler, Ross and Monica? Is your job a joke, you’re always broke, your love life’s D.O.A.? . . . Are you six or more units away from your degree, and haven’t been to school in over two years?”
Seems that if you’ve answered yes to at least two of these questions, you are a “yuffie” eligible to join the Los Angeles Young Urban Failures Network. The organizers say meetings will soon be organized at local 7-Eleven parking lots.
More proof, as if any is needed, that the ‘80s are really over.
Watchers, Not Punchers: Another trend shift was observed by your Social Climes staff Nov. 4, this one at the home of young turk screenwriter/producer John Lavitt, who invited a coterie of industry contemporaries to watch the Holyfield/Bowe match.
And what happened to the boxing craze that had our city’s youngest and finest hooking and jabbing in gyms all over town?
“We’ve given that up, and we’ve just decided to watch it at this point,” one guest remarked. Although the behavior got quite primal--at least verbally--this group, it appeared, had all traded their boxing gloves for rounds of Bloody Marys and stogies, contenting themselves with sipping, smoking and cussing.
COMPILED BY THE SOCIAL CLIMES STAFF