This Westside rock club (why so few of these?) has become the Echoplex for cool dads. Booking the best in grizzled-old-dude folk (Alejandro Escovedo) and a dope triple bill of Pete Case, Doyle Bramhall and Jim Lauderdale, it's a welcome alternative to the strum-und-drunks of the rock clubs on both ends of Sunset.
She will be forever known as the matriarch Olivia on "The Waltons," but the Emmy-winning actress is also a brilliant theater artist. Her performance in "Driving Miss Daisy" at La Mirada Theatre for Performing Arts (through Feb. 17;  944-9801) is comically nuanced and dramatically profound. Most screen stars flounder onstage, but the classically trained Learned is a marvelous exception to the rule.
We weren't fans of his last two CDs, but his about-to-drop sixth full length, "Last Night," is a joy. Gone are the guitars and "modern rock" songs, replaced by some DJ-centric old-school disco flourishes and laid-back, funkified electro bangers. Never thought we'd say it, but we like Moby again.
Enough already with calling a pregnant woman's belly a "bump." The annoying and ubiquitous term, popularized by celeb rags, is cloying, not cute, and makes it sound as if being with child is the same as getting a zit or experiencing a collision. Let's return to using the more accurate "pregnancy" or "belly," shall we? Next week: canoodling.
With its arrival in Silver Lake, the neighborhood can officially stop pretending to be a bastion of funky, underpaid artist types. Paying $12 for a breakfast so small you have to run to Tacos Delta an hour later is unjustifiable if you're a struggling bohemian. Enjoy your $5 cappuccino, expensive sunglass-wearing hipsters.
We're pretty sure it's just a sneaky way to jack up the cost of a pair of jeans to a whopping $234.
"CRASH," THE TV SERIES
Director Paul Haggis' self-congratulatory and heavy-handed 2005 Oscar winner is being developed into a TV series by cable channel Starz. Just in case you forgot that racism is bad.