So What's Up With the Maui Sugar Mill Saloon?

When I was invited to be a part of Lawrence Mann's

Hootenanny, I felt surprised and kind of honored. It's always been my impression that Lawrence Mann is the kind of promoter Los Angeles sorely needs right now. He's warm, charming, uber cool, and he loves music. He loves the people he decides to put into his shows. Why doesn't every venue have a beautiful person like Lawrence Mann?

There are clearly music scenes in Los Angeles. And there are also dive bars. Particularly in the San Fernando Valley. Maybe the word "dive" is unfair. What would fit better? Watering holes with sports on TVs? A small space for karaoke or cover bands or rock and blues bands? Who play while the TVs are on and people are drinking and chatting, often loudly?

The Maui fits these descriptions. There is no cover charge. The saloon is inside a very large sprawling old-fashioned shopping center with a massive parking lot, and you'd have no idea it was significant.

I'm a poor reporter as I do not know who owns this joint. The walls are covered in lore, stickers from bands who have played there, as well as photos. It's a kind of "best-kept secret." Unlike any bar of this size, it has its own sound engineer, Nubs Gutmacher, who seems to have been there as long as the shingle was hung at the front. He's a bit curmudgeonly, yet concerned. He does his job, and that matters.

There is the semblance of a stage, toward the back end of the bar, and it's set up so that folk can get close to the performers. There are high-top tables and chairs that create a sort of venue space, so that some can watch, and others can sit at the bar and engage in drinking, talking and watching baseball.

I remember the Oyster House had a similar feel. Regulars showed up almost every day. Bartenders were sympathetic listeners and ironic storytellers.

In these places, there's a culture. It feels like a tolerant one.

Maui seems to be particularly eclectic. But having now broken the spell of Maui virginity, I can say I saw no band on the Hootenanny night that wasn't very entertaining and skilled.

I couldn't stay all night, but who I saw I loved. Bernie Barlow with a top notch band and killer harmonies. Cameron Dye who seemed to combine elements of REM with a folksy Springsteen vibe. Fernando Perdomo, my friend, whose band with violinist Kaitlin Wolfberg , bassist Janet Thompson and drummer Michael Collins played a rich collection of Fern's most intricate pop songs, both cheerful and melancholy.

I am sorry I missed Gabi Lima and those who followed her.

The kind of free-wheeling atmosphere in the joint made it easy to come and go, easy to be whoever you are.

The Maui is a pressure relieving zone. People are friendly and seem to be highly nonjudgmental. It's truly a come as you are place, with good sound and an overall welcoming sensibility.

I am sure the "Cheers" reference has been made.

But beyond this, I think the Maui Sugar Mill is a safe and wonderful place for musicians to play. You feel like there are people listening, but you don't feel like you are performing a showcase. Rather, you feel you are connecting. And it's fun!

Unlike many venues where you feel so responsible for who shows up, and what the overall entertainment value you have brought, what is worth the money people had to spend to see you.

That pressure is gone.

And it's nice sharing a night with other musicians who are friendly, who listen to you too, who support you as you support them.

All of these elements make me feel hopeful for the future.

I don't think community is something that can be forced. It just kind of happens. It coalesces.

And here's a spot where that did happen. At least it did Saturday September 5th 2026.

I am hopeful to play there again, maybe. I see why everyone wants to, now.

And in the months to come, we will all surely need joints like this to console or celebrate, but mostly just to hang loose together.