LA confidential

Strolling down Sunset Boulevard recently, La Rocca’s Bjorn Baillie stumbled upon a scene straight out of Robert Altman’s The Player: “I walked past a cafe window – inside, Robin Williams was having lunch with Billy Crystal. I stopped in my tracks and ‘thought woaah – did I just see that!?’. They were probably trying to figure out why it’s been so long since either of them made a half-decent film.”

Simon Baillie, Bjorn’s brother and band-mate, chips in with a Los Angeles story of his own. “I met Sean Lennon at a Coke machine. We were recording in the studio next door. I was going to say ‘hi’. But when he turned around he looked so like his father, I was speechless. He had the glasses – the face. It was like bumping into John Lennon. I stood there gawping. Maybe I freaked him out slightly.”
Slouched in a rehearsal space in the musty bowels of The Button Factory, Dublin, La Rocca are reflecting on the strangest three years of their lives. In 2004, at the behest of Beck producer Tony Hoffer the four-piece, purveyors of REM-tinged indie pop, swapped rainy, dingy Ireland for the aching blue skies of Southern California. The plan was simple: go to America and become rock stars. “Tony’s people said: why don’t you come over here?,” says Bjorn. “All the people he works with are in LA. It kind of made sense for us to go to them. We had to think about it – for about 20 seconds.”
The most surprising thing about Los Angeles? The city’s endlessly derivative music scene. “Musicians in Los Angeles are obsessed with being the next big thing,” says Bjorn, “If there’s a trend they’ll like latch onto it straight away. Right now, you can’t move for boy-girl combos, with the woman playing the drums. It’s like the whole place is full of White Stripes clones.”
And then there’s LA’s famous – and profoundly un-ironic – hair metal circuit. “They’re still there, rocking out on the Sunset Strip every weekend,” says Simon. “It’s like the ’80s never ended. And you, know what? They are totally, totally sincere about what they do. You look around the room and nobody is winking and nudging. All you see are poodle perms, leather and fists in the air. You step into the night completely believing in balls-out rock and roll.”
At Hoffer’s behest La Rocca (early signings to the producer’s Dangerbird label) set up in Sunset Sounds Studios, the legendary LA facility which has witnessed the birth of The Beach Boys' Pet Sounds and The Rolling Stones' Exile On Main Street. It was here that Simon traded glares with Sean Lennon at the Coke machine. “In terms of luxury, it’s just so far above anything in Ireland,” he recalls. “On our first day there, we walked into the studio and Tony was laying out the equipment. I have never seen so many guitars in my life.” La Rocca were also struck by the professionalism of the studio engineers. “These guys are all shit hot producers. Because the standard is so high in the States, they’re having to start out as engineers or assistants,” says Simon. “And they don’t mess around: if you’re booked to start at 10am, then you start at 10am. You don’t stroll in, have a laugh and then, eventually, get down to business. Believe me in LA, they do not fuck around. Time is money.”
Angelinos in general have a high opinion of musicians, regarding them as serious artists rather than responsibility shirkers who can’t be arsed finding steady employment. “If you tell people over there that you’re in a band, they treat it like it’s a proper career,” says Bjorn. “And that’s regardless of whether you’re signed or not. Whereas at home, I think there’s a suspicion that you’re in a band ‘cos you don’t want to get a job and settle down. It’s like you’re running away from something. In California, the opposite is true: people see that you’re chasing something.”
Right now, La Rocca are on an upward trajectory. Kudos for this goes to a relentless touring schedule – in the past 18 months it feels like they’ve played every square inch of North America – but also to the cheerleading of influential television producer Mark Schwahn, whose projects include post-OC teen drama One Tree Hill.
“Apparently he’s a fan,” says Bjorn. “He uses our songs in the show as background music. And in one episode, a character goes into a record store and actually ASKS FOR OUR SINGLE! As soon as the show ended, our MySpace hit rate went off the wall. In fact, you can tell when One Tree Hill has finished airing in different parts of the world from the number of hits we get. If it ends at such an hour in France, then the hits go up, if it ends at another time in Argentina... well, you get the idea.”
Still, life hasn’t been all power-brunches and strolls beneath the palm trees. On a recent trip to Philadelphia La Rocca’s tour van – and all their equipment – was stolen. “Philly has problems,” says Simon. “And the hotel in question, which is popular with a lot of bands, is infamous for that sort of thing. They found the van a little later – burnt out. All the equipment was gone.”
Did the thieves make off with anything irreplaceable? “No, we didn’t have a laptop with our new album on it,” laughs Bjorn. “It’s weird, you always hear about bands having their albums go missing when someone pinches their laptop. Only since it happened to U2, though. You kind of wonder: is it some sort of publicity stunt?”
Later tonight La Rocca will play a showcase gig at Crawdaddy. They’re promoting their new single, a stark slice of acoustica called ‘Non Believer’, (their new album, The Truth, is also in the can and will hit record stores in January). Of course, while this interview is taking place half of Southern California is being engulfed by apocalyptic bush fires. Is there a danger La Rocca will return to find their apartments razed to the ground? “We live in a pretty central part of LA,” says Simon. “So if the fires get that far, I think it’s fair to say the whole city is screwed.”