Far from the Sunset Strip, Echo Park’s Los Globos offers a mix of genres and cultures
On a recent Friday night around midnight, Los Globos general manager Sire Dhone Johnson stood on his Sunset Boulevard sidewalk next to bouncers and chatted with customers.
The Sunset Strip and Hollywood may get all the historical ink, but these days Echo Park draws more hipster foot traffic.
Located not too far from where songwriter Tom Waits once sang in “Emotional Weather Report” of “gusty winds at times around the corner of Sunset and Alvarado,” this mini-hub boasts the versatile Los Globos, indie rock fixture the Silver Lake Lounge and the popular watering hole the Thirsty Crow. The Echo, a few blocks away, remains a vital stop for developing artists. Asked about running a club on one of the most storied music roads in America, Johnson confessed, “At first I was intimidated, of course, because Sunset Boulevard is Sunset Boulevard, and Los Angeles is Los Angeles.”
FULL COVERAGE: Mapping Sunset Boulevard’s musical history »
At first I was intimidated, of course, because Sunset Boulevard is Sunset Boulevard, and Los Angeles is Los Angeles.
— Los Globos general manager Sire Dhone Johnson
Which is to say, with a Sunset address comes a certain responsibility.
Los Globos was long a Latin club serving neighborhood residents. Nightclub entrepreneur Steve Edelson bought the place six years ago and brought on his Chicago friend Johnson, a Jamaican expat, musician and veteran club owner who came up in that city’s house music and reggae scenes.
Despite the occasional noise complaints from some neighborhood residents, Los Globos has since established itself as a shuffle-era venue that showcases a range of genres including house, dancehall, ska, hip-hop, cumbia, punk and industrial noise, while still regularly scheduling Latin nights. It’s best known as the host of the era-defining monthly house music party A Club Called Rhonda.
Taking inspiration from the enduring New York club SOB’s, Johnson compares running Los Globos to owning a Chinese restaurant. “You don’t eat Chinese food every day, but when you want that flavor, when you want that egg foo yong, you know where to go.”
On the multi-room venue’s top floor, another event was hitting a peak. The Summer Mass, a benefit for the Satanic Temple, lured a few hundred black-clad miscreants.
Not a goat’s head was to be found, though, and the closest thing to menace was the simmering noise of a producer named Rodent delivering sheets of sonic aggression. As he did so, attendees sipped drinks and commingled. This could have been a wedding reception, albeit a loud one.
Outside, a queue was forming as the smell of al pastor wafted from a nearby tabletop taqueria. Asked whether he’d been up to see what the Satanists had on offer, Johnson laughed.
“No, I stay away from that voodoo.”
For tips, records, snapshots and stories on Los Angeles music culture, follow Randall Roberts on Twitter and Instagram: @liledit. Email: [email protected].
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