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Gonzo Report: Keni Yarbro provides a musical cocoon at Duke's La Jolla
One-man band gives even "Hotel California" new life, thanks to flamenco leads
“Occasionally, we need to chase the younger ones out, they have no fear of people,” Katie tells me when asked the oddest thing she’s seen as a server at Duke’s La Jolla. She’s referring to the seagulls, which I have since discovered are a protected species under the Migratory Bird Treaty Act, something I never thought about. Per usual, there’s a reason for the rule that goes beyond lofty notions of ecosystems and natural balance, and lands squarely in the realm of Homo sapiens shittiness. My stomach drops as Katie tells me about a neighbor in the building who dropped a chunk of cement — perhaps a cinder block — onto a nest below his window, smashing the eggs inside.
It’s difficult for me to reconcile a scene of such senseless cruelty with the serene ambiance of Duke’s and the surrounding area. (I got jumpstarted on Turkish coffee courtesy of The Living Room coffeehouse across the street and then basked in the island vibe of a photograph capturing an erupting volcano at Lik Fine Art gallery next door to the java dealer. It helped set the mood for Keni Yarbro's upcoming performance.) But avian angst notwithstanding, I’m digging the conversation with Duke's manager Ernest and his contagious excitement and pride as he tells me about the restaurant and the staff. He glows as he describes the rewards of giving many young people their first jobs, instilling in them a work ethic that balances professionalism with having fun.
The restaurant was named after Duke Kahanamoku, considered by many to be the man who put surfing on the international radar. Ernest doesn’t surf anymore because of ear infections — likely triggered from South Bay’s notorious toxicity levels. But he still spends time on the ocean, often trading meals for aquatic adventures with, say, a kayak rental business. The bartering fosters a sense of community.
Yarbro sets up a single stool, amplifier, and an effects pedal. A delay gives him the ability to layer in his guitar sound (he plays a locally-made Taylor; he says he prefers it over a Martin), bringing a fullness to the sound without adding another guitarist — or worse, a pesky bass player. As his one-man band plays a set of eclectic tunes from artists as varied as Simple Minds and the Eagles — he gives even “Hotel California” new life, in part by adding flamenco style leads — I munch on a plate of delicious fish and chips. (Katie asks me if I want some malt vinegar, making her my favorite person at the restaurant. I’m always surprised how many places don’t have that staple on hand when they serve this dish.) Venturing downstairs, I see a room marked “Sauna.” Staffer Dylan tells me it’s actually a storage space. He’s not disappointed, though; he likes working at Duke's despite its lack of suana, chiefly because of his co-workers. And the view.
Yarbro got this gig through Acoustic Spot Talent, a Del Mar-based agency that matches performers to venues. I plan to ask him if essentially providing background music for diners is any kind of downer, but then I see this kid Eli dancing on the patio area, the panorama of the Pacific Ocean providing a backdrop. He 12, so I introduce myself (and my credentials) to his parents and ask if I can interview him. Eli continues gyrating, pausing occasionally to think about my questions. It turns out he doesn’t know who wrote “Baby I Love Your Way,” the song that infected him with the need to groove, but he fires off names of other artists before covering it all by saying, “I just love music.”
After the gig, Yarbro tells me the hardest thing to learn was the Steely Dan material. But the most enthusiastic response he sees is for the Prince covers. I mention Eli and he smiles, telling me that he saw him too, and we both agree that’s what music is about. Taking us back to an age when the notes made a musical cocoon that protected us from worrying how we appeared to others and left us free to express our joy.
Here's something you might be interested in.
Gonzo Report: Keni Yarbro provides a musical cocoon at Duke's La Jolla
One-man band gives even "Hotel California" new life, thanks to flamenco leads
Gonzo Report: Keni Yarbro provides a musical cocoon at Duke's La Jolla
One-man band gives even "Hotel California" new life, thanks to flamenco leads
“Occasionally, we need to chase the younger ones out, they have no fear of people,” Katie tells me when asked the oddest thing she’s seen as a server at Duke’s La Jolla. She’s referring to the seagulls, which I have since discovered are a protected species under the Migratory Bird Treaty Act, something I never thought about. Per usual, there’s a reason for the rule that goes beyond lofty notions of ecosystems and natural balance, and lands squarely in the realm of Homo sapiens shittiness. My stomach drops as Katie tells me about a neighbor in the building who dropped a chunk of cement — perhaps a cinder block — onto a nest below his window, smashing the eggs inside.
It’s difficult for me to reconcile a scene of such senseless cruelty with the serene ambiance of Duke’s and the surrounding area. (I got jumpstarted on Turkish coffee courtesy of The Living Room coffeehouse across the street and then basked in the island vibe of a photograph capturing an erupting volcano at Lik Fine Art gallery next door to the java dealer. It helped set the mood for Keni Yarbro's upcoming performance.) But avian angst notwithstanding, I’m digging the conversation with Duke's manager Ernest and his contagious excitement and pride as he tells me about the restaurant and the staff. He glows as he describes the rewards of giving many young people their first jobs, instilling in them a work ethic that balances professionalism with having fun.
The restaurant was named after Duke Kahanamoku, considered by many to be the man who put surfing on the international radar. Ernest doesn’t surf anymore because of ear infections — likely triggered from South Bay’s notorious toxicity levels. But he still spends time on the ocean, often trading meals for aquatic adventures with, say, a kayak rental business. The bartering fosters a sense of community.
Yarbro sets up a single stool, amplifier, and an effects pedal. A delay gives him the ability to layer in his guitar sound (he plays a locally-made Taylor; he says he prefers it over a Martin), bringing a fullness to the sound without adding another guitarist — or worse, a pesky bass player. As his one-man band plays a set of eclectic tunes from artists as varied as Simple Minds and the Eagles — he gives even “Hotel California” new life, in part by adding flamenco style leads — I munch on a plate of delicious fish and chips. (Katie asks me if I want some malt vinegar, making her my favorite person at the restaurant. I’m always surprised how many places don’t have that staple on hand when they serve this dish.) Venturing downstairs, I see a room marked “Sauna.” Staffer Dylan tells me it’s actually a storage space. He’s not disappointed, though; he likes working at Duke's despite its lack of suana, chiefly because of his co-workers. And the view.
Yarbro got this gig through Acoustic Spot Talent, a Del Mar-based agency that matches performers to venues. I plan to ask him if essentially providing background music for diners is any kind of downer, but then I see this kid Eli dancing on the patio area, the panorama of the Pacific Ocean providing a backdrop. He 12, so I introduce myself (and my credentials) to his parents and ask if I can interview him. Eli continues gyrating, pausing occasionally to think about my questions. It turns out he doesn’t know who wrote “Baby I Love Your Way,” the song that infected him with the need to groove, but he fires off names of other artists before covering it all by saying, “I just love music.”
After the gig, Yarbro tells me the hardest thing to learn was the Steely Dan material. But the most enthusiastic response he sees is for the Prince covers. I mention Eli and he smiles, telling me that he saw him too, and we both agree that’s what music is about. Taking us back to an age when the notes made a musical cocoon that protected us from worrying how we appeared to others and left us free to express our joy.
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