Thomas Wolfe said,
famously, you can’t go home again. Nonsense! Saturday night, I went home, and for once, I
found nothing had changed.
A huge chunk of my
high school years was spent at the Baked Potato in North Hollywood. My friends and I generously thought of
ourselves as musicians. We were too cool
for school. In reality, we were dateless
and desperate. Rather than admit our
inability to get laid or be accepted into the cool group, we formed our own allegedly
suave clique and spent our time at the Baked Potato, music nerds to the core.
The band we went to see
with religious devotion was Don Randi and Quest; the name alone smells like the
1970s. Randi was the keyboardist for a
group of studio musicians in the 60s and 70s known as the Wrecking Crew. A lot of their work became part of
producer-turned-murderer Phil Spector’s legendary Wall of Sound.
In 1970, Randi opened
the club in North Hollywood and Quest became the house band. The place was a hangout for L.A.’s best
studio musicians—Jeff Porcaro, Steve Lukather, Lee Ritenour and Alex
Acuna. So many others. The posters from those gigs are tacked up on
the walls, faded and torn, a kind of Los Angeles musical history wallpaper.
When I arrived
Saturday night, I was surprised to find nothing had changed. Well, almost nothing. Don Randi’s seven-foot grand piano and Rhodes
electric keyboard/synthesizer combo have been replaced by a single Yamaha
digital keyboard. Better sound. Only a little more room in the tiny
space. Randi’s son, Justin, now runs the
place and tends bar. He also sings,
stepping into his father’s set for a few Neil Diamond numbers. The air inside the club is historical, musty
and warm, cozy on an end-of-summer, first-days-of-fall evening.
Not a single musician
remains from my high school era Quest, except for Don Randi himself. This didn’t surprise me. The personnel was never set in stone, but
subject to who was available on a particular night. The line-up on Saturday was Larry Klimas on
Woodwinds, Frank Fabio on guitar, Chris Roy on bass, Peter Korpela on
percussion, and Todd Wolf on drums.
Halfway through the first set, drummer Miles Robinson of the Fifth
Dimension sat in. He was the one we all
idolized back in high school. He is an
incredible, energetic performer whose presence on this night seemed to
revitalize Don Randi as they ran through the chord changes of the Beatles’ “Norwegian
Wood.”
The music was as dated
as the ruffled tuxedo shirts we didn’t wear to prom (dateless, remember), but
it was a nice trip down memory lane. And
actually, after my fellow musicians graduated high school and went off to
college, I did take a few young ladies there, including my future wife who on
this recent Saturday night also found the music a little too middle-of-the-road
smooth jazz.
Don Randi, himself,
was in fine form. He talks more now than
I remembered. Maybe it’s because he has
a book coming out: You’ve Heard These Hands: From the Wall of Sound to the Wrecking Crew and Other Incredible Stories (Hal
Leonard Books, 2015). The stories he
offered up between songs were interesting and added to the historical vibe of
the club.
On a more pedestrian
level, the drinks were small and expensive, but strong, and the food was
terrific: all kinds of stuffed baked
potatoes the size of footballs. I had
the excellent chicken salad (yes, they do also offer salads) and my wife and I
split a chicken parmesan potato—more than enough for two.
I enjoyed my sojourn
in the past and I’d definitely go back.
The Baked Potato is part of L.A. music history. Unlike my high school days, I’d go in for one
of the other fine groups on the schedule.
Don Randi and Quest are a treasured memory for me now, but like a favorite
childhood toy one has outgrown, it is time to move on to other experiences.
