GUS SEYFFERT

Gus Seyffert began gigging when he was 15 years old, playing bass and making good money at a dinner theater in Kansas City that was putting on a production of Tony n’ Tina’s Wedding. Though he was almost flunking out of his arts-magnet high school, he was soon a part of ensembles in the city’s legendary jazz scene six or seven nights a week. These experiences would lay the foundations for the career he’s now built for himself as a respected studio and touring rock musician.

Now based out of the East Side of Los Angeles, Seyffert has played with artists including Sia, Norah Jones, Inara George and Ryan Adams. Behind the mixing board, he’s become part of a circle of respected producers like Greg Kurstin, Mike Andrews and Joey Waronker. He just wrapped up a four-year stretch on the road with the Black Keys and has joined Beck’s band.

While jobs like these can be lucrative for a career musician, Seyffert has put back everything he’s earned into buying vintage and analog equipment to build up his own studio. It’s there that he produces and records for a number of acts, as well as his own group, Willoughby. “Finally, after 10 years or so, some of the stuff I’m doing is starting to get a little attention,” he says. Seyffert put together a compilation of mostly unreleased music for Citizens of Humanity that features the range of artists he has produced. There’s Jake Blanton, who went to that same magnet school in Kansas City, and has similarly taken session and touring work with folks like The Killers. Sean & Zander—two old punks whose résumés include Circle Jerks, The Weirdos and Throw Rag who are now playing Americana—contribute a song. And then you have Suzie Johannes, a librarian-looking lady from Lawrence, Kansas, who spent a week camping in Seyffert’s backyard and recording music.

 

 

These artists, plus more than half a dozen others, represent the myriad ways folks are trying to earn a living, keep creative and figure things out in today’s uncertain music industry. “A lot of artists don’t have a home,” says Seyffert. “There are no labels, nobody is putting any money into anything and it costs so much money to release music in a real way, so everybody keeps hoping that something is going to come along.”

Until then all Seyffert can do is keep playing and pressing records, documenting the people who come into his life and come through his studio. It sounds good, but let’s just try it again from the top.

 

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CHAD COLBY

Chad Colby may be the most-loved meat chef in Los Angeles right now, but when he cooks at home, he usually goes vegetarian or even – gasp – vegan.  “I love vegetables!” Colby exclaimed over coffee at Stir Crazy on Melrose.  But “the one thing that I absolutely am not a fan of with vegetarian food is when they try to make a weird product into a meat product…  Vegetables are glorious!  Vegetables are delicious!  Let a vegetable be a vegetable!  I’m not trying to make a piece of meat look like a vegetable and taste like a one.”

Truer words were never spoken, because Chad Colby does not try to make meat be anything at all.  As chef of Chi Spacca, Colby’s entire ethos is centered on sourcing amazing product and preparing it simply and beautifully.  And it’s working.  Since opening last February, Chi Spacca has been consistently busy and consistently adored, both in professional circles and its loyal customer base.  For those who haven’t experienced it yet, Chi Spacca is a small, intimate restaurant where large specialty cuts are butchered in house and served family style.  There is also an extensive, much-heralded selection of house-cured meats.  Yes, there are vegetables.  Yes, there is fish.  But it’s all about the meat, specifically the tomahawk chop, which Jonathan Gold dubbed the “consensus hit of L.A.’s meat world this year.”

Chi Spacca is the newest addition to Nancy Silverton, Joe Bastianich, and Mario Batali’s Melrose empire, which includes neighboring Osteria Mozza and Pizzeria Mozza, but you won’t find the iconic dishes from those restaurants, pasta and pizza, served there.  “As we talked about the concept,” Colby recalled, “Mario stepped in and had a great sensibility of, ‘differentiate yourself from the other two restaurants.’”  In other words: do one thing, and do it better than anybody else in town.

And they do, largely thanks to Colby’s self-proclaimed “obsession” with his work.  He treats meat with the deepest reverence.

Colby developed much of his cooking philosophy, and his initial interest in food, by watching Mario Batali.  When a high school sports injury left Colby couch-bound, he passed the time watching Food Network, specifically “Molto Mario.”  (Well, that and cartoons.)  Mario Batali “would talk about why you cook something, not just how you cook it, and that’s what differentiated it from a lot of the other shows,” said Colby.  “He’d talk about proximity to soil and why vegetables are better when they’re enjoyed closer to where they were grown and all that stuff.  There was an authoritative description of, ‘one region has olive trees, so they use olive oil, so this pasta’s from here, and where they have grazing land, there are cows, and that’s where you’ll have cream and butter in pasta.’  It just became a great explanation and I like when food makes sense historically.”  Inspired, Colby started cooking at home, and soon enough decided to study restaurant management at Cal Poly.  And the rest just fell into place.  Well, almost…

When Colby first interviewed for the job at Campanile that paved his way to culinary greatness, he didn’t hear back.  But instead of moving on, Colby refused to take “no” for an answer.  “I called maybe three, four times before they brought me on as an extra set of hands,” he said.

 

 

And that’s not the only time he’s fought for something he wanted.  If you go to Chi Spacca, be sure to order the focaccia, if only for all of the blood, sweat and tears it took Colby to track down the recipe and learn to make it.  The backstory: Nancy Silverton ate an incredible focaccia while traveling and the duo set out to recreate it, a task that turned out to be infinitely more difficult than either of them had anticipated: “It took me going to Italy and going to the kitchen where they make it and talking my way into the back and taking lots of photos and getting the contact for where they get their pans and special ordering the pans on a money wire transfer from Italy with broken translation on emails and all of these epically difficult steps.”  It is difficult to picture Colby talking his way into a kitchen — or pestering Campanile until they took him on.  In person, he is soft-spoken and reserved.  But clearly, when it comes to cooking, he becomes a different beast.  “I dream about food, dream about restaurant service,” Colby said.  “So much of what I do is an obsession.”

And that obsession is paying off in surprising ways.  Colby had his first Hollywood role this year; he was the hand double for the opening scene of the Jon Favreau film, “Chef.”  “It’s just like boom boom boom… there’s my hand!”  He laughed.  “It’s maybe a three-second shot.”

At Chi Spacca, however, meat fanatics can get much more than three seconds of Colby’s handiwork; the kitchen is completely exposed, leaving Colby and his staff on full display.  The design is a holdover from the prior incarnation of the space: Scuola di Pizza, where Colby and his crew taught cooking classes.  Colby credits the rare open layout with a lot of the success of the restaurant, because seeing people eat your food so up close and personal creates accountability in the kitchen.  “You have to watch every bite,” said Colby, “so if someone is disappointed in something, you can see it.  And it hurts.  And it’ll keep you up at night.”

 

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BEVERLY HILLS JUICE

David Otto’s life-changing moment begins in the same way as many revelatory ideas of the 1960s do, as part of a hallucinogenic drug experience. “I was on the tail-end of a psychedelic Saturday and I started to come on again,” says Otto, who was seated at Chuck’s Steak House, a music industry hangout on West Third Street at the time. “I had ordered a steak and started to cut into it, and the steak morphed into this huge, ferocious-looking bull. I had a mental communication with this creature, and I decided that I wasn’t going to eat meat anymore. And I committed to becoming a vegetarian.”

The year was 1967. Otto didn’t immediately transform into your garden-variety vegetarian back then. Prompted by his desire to eat more healthfully, the Los Angeles native began dipping his toes into the world of juicing. By the mid-seventies, he was not only a full-blown vegan and juicing convert; he was also ready to share his knowledge with the rest of the city. In 1975, Otto debuted Beverly Hills Juice Club, now known as Beverly Hills Juice–a go-to fresh juice spot on Beverly Boulevard that has won the hearts, minds and palates of local health-seekers for more than 39 years, and has earned the slight, sharp 78 year-old the moniker of Juice Guy.

As he reflects on his journey, Otto is perched on the edge of the open trunk of his station wagon, parked in the lot behind the juice bar. It’s late afternoon, a baseball game is on the radio in the background, and it’s nearing the end of a shift for some of his employees. “Manana, David!” one of them calls out to him, a sentiment which he echoes in return.

“Growing up, I ate real simple,” muses Otto, who was reared primarily on a staple diet of steak, salad, and potatoes, thanks, in part, to his father who ran a local steakhouse until it shuttered in 1954. A Los Angeles native, Otto was born in 1936 and spent his formative years at military school until fifth grade in 1945, when World War II ended. His mother and stepfather married at that time, and bought a house in Studio City. Otto attended junior high in West Hollywood, and graduated from Hollywood High.

Otto dabbled in various jobs and college after graduation, but quickly fell in with his mother’s line of business, as a booking agent for bands around Los Angeles. It was in 1967, in the midst of his music career and the unhealthy lifestyle choices that often come with it, when Otto had his hallucinatory vegetarian epiphany. “ I was working with my mother, and she was really freaked out that I wanted to eliminate meat from my diet. I started reading more about becoming a vegetarian. I bought a Champion juicer and made juice at home. It got to the point where it just became part of my life.”
 

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Soon, Otto became known amongst friends for his healthful juice concoctions, which, in the early ‘70s, were a hard-to-find treat to find around town, with the exception of LaHood’s in Grand Central Market downtown and Bruce’s Juices in Redondo Beach, (run by a local surfer who peddled his wares when he wasn’t out catching waves). Seeking to fill a void in the market and to provide fellow health nuts with a consistent alternative, Otto debuted Beverly Hills Juice Club on Santa Monica Boulevard in 1975, which moved to its present day location on Beverly Boulevard in West Hollywood.

In the 39 years since opening its doors, Otto’s hydraulic-pressed juices have developed a cult following, as evident by the line that regularly snakes down the street outside the tiny storefront. Beverly Hills Juice’s popularity is also evident in the number of customers who have been loyal patrons since the day it opened. Even one of Otto’s employees, Hal, has been with the Juice Guy since the beginning, with the exception of a few hiatuses to pursue his career as an artist.

Things really changed five years ago, says Otto, with the release of the juice bar’s Banana Manna blend. “It’s a combo of organic bananas, nuts and sunflower seeds that we blend it together,” he says. “It comes out just like ice cream, and we use it just like ice cream—and that’s the big attraction.” Customers also flock to the spot for other signature offerings, including the Big Ten—a potent combo of carrot juice, celery, parsley, spinach, kale and sprouts.

Along with his wife, Jen, and three children, Otto practices what he preaches. A typical day start out with a vegetable juice, or a dish Banana Manna, followed by quinoa and beans, or something similar, from nearby vegan restaurant Real Food Daily, or a Yo Soy Mucho Mexican-inspired bowl from Café Gratitude. The day ends over a simple meal of salad, lentils or a baked potato, which he often enjoys with Jen at their home in Laurel Canyon.

Otto is also actively involved in the day-to-day operations of the shop. Every morning after his workout (his day begins at 4 a.m.), Otto heads to the juice bar, or downtown, where he picks up pint bottles for the shop. On Wednesdays and Saturdays, he makes his way to the Santa Monica Farmers’ Market where he seeks out seasonal organic produce. When the shop first opened, Otto would pick up organic items daily; now the juice bar does so much volume, it takes in regular deliveries of fresh fruit and vegetables. “I used to have a VW van that we would load up in the ‘70s, now I would have to have a big truck, we go through so much stuff,” he says.

It’s his quest for the best, organic produce that Otto believes makes his juice bar so popular, despite the proliferation of similar purveyors that has popped up in recent years. “We’ve always maintained, to make the best juice, you have to use the best produce. We go to great extremes for that,” he notes.

“We all know what’s bad for us, so don’t find yourself a slave to these things,” says Otto. “The secret to great health? It’s not about what you eat, its what you don’t eat.”
 

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