The Brief

In most cases, calling someone a “hopeless artist” or “hopeless employee” would be considered an insult, but it's a badge of honor at the Valley Relics Museum in Van Nuys.

That’s where an exhibit celebrating the 30-year anniversary of the independent record label Hopeless Records just opened.

A 'Hopeless' label is born

The label, founded by Louis Posen when he was a film student at Cal State Northridge, started out representing punk, ska, metal bands — and later, alternative musicians more broadly. Some of its most well-known acts include Thrice, New Found Glory, Avenged Sevenfold and Yellowcard.

The name “Hopeless Records” comes from the Orange County punk band Guttermouth’s 1993 album. Posen met them after he made a music video for the punk band NOFX, the group Guttermouth was opening for at the time.

As Posen explains it: “Guttermouth asked me to put out a record for them. And I said, ‘Why would I put out a record? I know how to do music videos, not records.’ They said, ‘Well you seem organized, and we don't know anyone else that can do it.’ So I went and bought a book called How to Run an Independent Record Label. I put that first 7-inch [record] out, and the first song was called ‘Hopeless,’ and that was why it was the name of the label.”

Since then, the company has represented more than 200 artists and sold more than 15 million albums.

The exhibition

At a recent preview event at the Valley Relics Museum, located within a couple of airplane hangars at the Van Nuys Airport, Hopeless employees, musicians and their friends and families were in high spirits as they perused the memorabilia on display.

Memorabilia from the Hopeless Records exhibit at the Valley Relics Museum, including a handwritten note from Nina Bernstein, the daughter of composer Leonard Bernstein, commending Hopeless Records for the punk version of the "West Side Story" soundtrack.

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Monica Bushman

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LAist

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The Hopeless exhibit includes set lists for bands like Taking Back Sunday, drum sticks broken by drummer Paul Koehler from the Canadian rock band Silverstein, and even a letter from the late Sen. Dianne Feinstein, praising the label for giving more than a million dollars to charity through its nonprofit arm. (They’ve since donated about 2 million dollars more.)

Loyola Marymount student Carissa Leong was one of the attendees not affiliated with the label. She got an invitation through an online publication she writes for, and is also a fan.

“This label has had so many bands that I just think have been really cool and I kind of like grew up on,” Leong says. “All Time Low I grew up liking, I used to listen to Waterparks a lot … They have a really solid lineup currently and they've had a really, really sick history.”

Singer/rapper DE’WAYNE, who describes his style of music as “just sexy rock and roll,” was also there. He was formerly signed to Hopeless and credits the label with giving him a chance when he needed it — right before the pandemic, when he was still new to L.A.

“They saved my life, [by] just giving me an opportunity to release music. [It] was all I needed, honestly,” he says. “And I think that's the best thing about Hopeless, because they see people when they're young and understand the talent that's there. And then they just give you an avenue to create and make beautiful things.”

A source for good 

As for how the label has weathered all the drastic changes the music industry has gone through over the last 30 years, Posen points to the company’s ability to adapt.

“Everything is an opportunity and a challenge — that's the way that I look at life. “I started losing my eyesight when I was 19 years old … so everything is about adapting," Posen says. “It's about problem solving and facing things …not crawling up in a hole, but trying to figure out what's the best way to deal with this.”

Hopeless Records founder Louis Posen addresses the crowd at a reception for an exhibit dedicated to the label's 30-year history at the Valley Relics Museum.

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Ariel Goldberg

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Another key to the company’s survival, Posen says, is a strong sense of community.

“People don’t get into this style of music to make money, they get into it because they’re passionate about it. It’s who their friends are, it’s what clubs they go to, it’s what things they read.”

Whether through the label’s philanthropic efforts — like donating to charity, advocating on Capitol Hill for better mental health resources, or starting a music academy for kids (set to launch in the new year) — or through the music itself, Posen sees the potential for the alternative music scene to be a source for good.

“In some ways we’re changing the world in our own little way,” Posen says. “Musically, we’re affecting people. You hear about it all the time where fans say ‘This artist changed my life, or saved my life.’”

A new generation of fans and alternative musicians 

Today, Hopeless Records defines itself less by a genre (though “alternative music” or “alternative rock” are labels they do use) and more by their audience.

“Young, alternative, inquisitive … passionate” is how Posen describes it. That’s also led to a more diverse roster of artists in more recent years — one that’s currently over 50% female or non-binary.

As longtime employee and vice president of marketing Erin Choi puts it: “[That’s] pretty awesome for the rock scene because when I was growing up it wasn't like that at all.”

“We're always trying to build the scene that we want to see and not just looking back at the past and what it was. And so that's been really important to us in our growth.”

The Hopeless Records exhibition is up at The Valley Relics Museum through Jan. 7.

Raul Malo, the leader of the country band The Mavericks and one of the most recognizable voices in roots music, died Monday night, according to a representative of the band. The guitarist and singer had been battling cancer.

He was hospitalized last week, forcing him to miss tribute shows staged in his honor at the Ryman Auditorium over the weekend. He was 60 years old.

"No one embodied life and love, joy and passion, family, friends, music and adventure the way our beloved Raul did," read a statement released by his family.

Malo's group, The Mavericks, mourned the loss of their leader in a social post.

"Anyone with the pleasure of being in Raul's orbit knew that he was a force of human nature, with an infectious energy," the statement read. "Over a career of more than three decades entertaining millions around the globe, his towering creative contributions and unrivaled, generational talent created the kind of multicultural American music reaching far beyond America itself."

Over a career that lasted four decades, The Mavericks lived up to the band's name, challenging expectations and following a roadmap crafted by Malo's expansive musical upbringing as the son of Cuban immigrants in Miami.

"I grew up in a very musical household. There was all kinds of music around always," he told WHYY's Fresh Air in 1995. "We listened to everything from Hank Williams to Celia Cruz to Sam Cooke to Bobby Darin. It didn't matter."

In 1992, Malo told NPR that his widespread influences weren't always understood or appreciated in his South Florida hometown, but he said that his struggle to fit in taught him to trust his instincts. Malo had become the guitarist and lead singer for The Mavericks in 1989, alongside co-founders Robert Reynolds and Paul Deakin, and his roaring, sentimental voice defined the band's sound and remained its constant as the group's catalog moved from slow, tender ballads to full-throttle rock songs. In 1995, the band released its biggest hit with "All You Ever Do Is Bring Me Down," a swinging country song featuring an assist from Tex-Mex accordion legend Flaco Jimenez.

As the band grew in members and devoted listeners, The Mavericks continued to push the boundaries of American music, weaving a richly layered tapestry of textures and stories. With more than a dozen studio albums, The Mavericks collected praise and recognition from the Academy of Country Music, the Country Music Association and the Recording Academy. Although they took a hiatus for several years, Malo never stopped making music — and returned to his bandmates with renewed inspiration.

Following its 30th anniversary, the group released its first full-length Spanish album in 2020, aptly titled En Español. The record reimagined Latin standards and folklore-tinged popular tunes; it also made an implicit political statement about Latin music's contributions to American culture.

"In our own little way, if we could get somebody that perhaps is on the fence on issues and hears us singing in Spanish and perhaps reminds them of the beautiful cultures that make up what this country is trying to be and what it should be, so be it," Malo told NPR at the time. "Yeah, I'm OK with that."

The following year, the Americana Music Association recognized The Mavericks with the Trailblazer Award. In 2024, the band released its last studio album, Moon & Stars. The release coincided with news of Malo's cancer diagnosis, which he discussed openly with NPR's Ayesha Rascoe.

Before being hospitalized last week, Malo had been scheduled to perform with The Mavericks at a pair of tribute concerts held this past weekend at the legendary Ryman Auditorium in Nashville. Over 30 artists, including Patty Griffin, Jim Lauderdale and Steve Earle, still gathered to pay tribute to Malo, with some of the proceeds of the night going to the cancer prevention organization Stand Up To Cancer.

According to his spokesperson, though Malo was too ill to attend, the concert was streamed to his hospital room Friday night.

Copyright 2025 NPR

The Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department has mostly blocked efforts to investigate misconduct within its ranks, according to the county inspector general, who announced his retirement Tuesday after 12 years on the job.

In an open letter, Max Huntsman cited examples of how the county has thwarted his efforts to watchdog the department, which in the past has been plagued with accusations that deputies use excessive force and lie on the job.

Huntsman said one example is former Sheriff Alex Villanueva’s misuse of criminal enforcement powers to discredit critics, such as opening an investigation into former County Supervisor Sheila Kuehl.

Villanueva was sheriff from 2018 to 2022.

“My requests for investigation were rejected,” Huntsman’s letter reads. “Even after receiving an official subpoena, the Sheriff’s Department has failed to turn over records regarding the improper surveillance.”

He added: “Sometimes members of the public wonder if frightening new surveillance techniques will be used for improper purposes under the guise of criminal investigation. Sadly, the answer is yes.”

Before becoming inspector general in 2013, Huntsman, 60, was a deputy district attorney who specialized in public corruption. He told LAist on Tuesday that the inspector general job wasn’t something he wanted initially.

“I didn’t want to go work for politicians,” he said. “But the need to provide some kind of independent reporting and analysis was significant.”

The Sheriff’s Department issued a statement saying it valued the Office of the Inspector General and all county oversight bodies and that it wished Huntsman and his family well in his retirement.

The department said it “continues to make great strides in advancing the department in a transparent manner.”

LAist also reached out to the county CEO and county counsel for comment, but they declined.

After George Floyd

In the letter, Huntsman says the state of California has come a long way in strengthening the power of local law enforcement oversight bodies, in part because of the 2020 murder of George Floyd by police in Minneapolis.

After widespread protests — and lobbying by Huntsman — the state provided authority to inspectors general to enforce subpoenas requiring law enforcement agencies to hand over documents and authorized external investigation of police misconduct, including deputy gang conduct.

The Sheriff’s Department — backed by county lawyers — has resisted.

“Los Angeles County may not follow those laws, but it will not be able to avoid them forever,” Huntsman wrote. “The county refuses to require the photographing of suspected gang tattoos in secretive groups that the undersheriff has identified as violating state law.”

“Just a few weeks ago, we requested some information regarding an investigation, and a pair of commanders refused to give it to us,” Huntsman said in an interview with LAist.

Origin of the office 

The Inspector General’s Office was created by the county Board of Supervisors in 2013 in response to a scandal that included former Sheriff Lee Baca covering up the abuses of jail inmates.

Baca went to federal prison.

Since then, the office has issued dozens of reports with recommendations for improving living conditions inside jails that some have described as “filthy,” stopping abuses of juveniles inside juvenile halls and providing shower privacy for inmates as part of the requirements under the Prison Rape Elimination Act.

“All of these abuses were reported by the Office of Inspector General and recommendations were ignored,” Huntsman wrote. Often, it took court orders to enact change.

“When we first blew the whistle on the torturous chaining of mentally ill prisoners to benches for 36 hours at a time, it was only a court order that ended the practice,” he wrote. “Time and time again, this pattern repeated itself.”

Huntsman wrote the county has permitted the Sheriff’s Department to block oversight and defunded the Office of Inspector General by removing a third of its staff.

“It's not surprising the county has driven out two successive chairs of the Sheriff Civilian Oversight Commission,” he wrote.

“Government always claims to value transparency and accountability, but shooting the messenger is still the most common response to criticism,” Huntsman wrote.

Despite setbacks, Huntsman values work 

Huntsman told LAist on Tuesday that he was proud of his career as a public servant.

“I’ve really enjoyed the work and I’m sad to have it end,” he said.

It’s a sentiment he echoed in his letter, adding that despite the setbacks and roadblocks, he was proud of the people with whom he shared the office.

“It has been my honor to work with a talented, brave and tireless group of public servants to ensure that the public knows what its government is doing,” he wrote.

He noted the inspector general’s reports are fact-checked by the office and public.

“When government abuses occur, they are sometimes kept secret, but that is no longer the case for much of what is happening in Los Angeles County,” Huntsman wrote. “What you do about it is up to you.,”

Huntsman’s last day is Friday.

Topline:

The backstory: Last month, the council's Transportation Committee voted to bring a proposal forward to implement a policy change that allows the city to impound and immediately destroy abandoned or inoperable RVs worth less than $4,000. The change is inspired by new state law AB 630, which was created to prevent previously impounded RVs from ending back up on the street.

The motion, authored by Councilmember Traci Park, reports that abandoned RVs pose as public and safety hazards.

What's next: Councilmember Nithya Raman requested that an implementation plan be presented to the council's public safety and housing and homelessness committees.

Go deeper: L.A. pushes policy to make it easier to remove RVs from city streets.