"It's really weird, because people don't think of us as elder statesmen of the rock and roll scene, but we have been doing it since we were kids," says Kipp Lennon, vocalist and co-songwriter for the band Venice.

For anyone from L.A., the name Venice is likely tattooed on the brain, and not because of the beach town.  The Lennon cousins, Kipp and Michael, and their respective brothers, Pat and Mark, have been a staple around town since the end of the '80s.  In that time, they have played the big-label game, waited for the hype to come true, and dealt with all the crap that accompanies trying to be rock stars.  Not that that's what they were shooting for, but when you develop a following playing the clubs in "La-La Land," the next step is usually your face plastered larger than life on a billboard, or something to that effect.

Still, anyone who's grown up watching the way the local club scene chews up young groups and spits them out like sunflower seeds, knows that what should be and what is often never intersects in our own little parallel universe.  Thus, even after Venice released their first album, on a major label, in 1990, stardom fell from their grasp like a piece of scallop sushi from chopsticks.  That may have been the best thing to happen to Venice, though. Why?

Because, even on a day when Michael is suffering the after-effects of bad sushi - something we all know can be unbearable - Kipp and Michael are still in almost disgustingly high spirits, sitting in a large board room at their label, Vanguard, majestically overlooking the Pacific Ocean.  It's hard to fault their optimism, which is both well-founded and refreshing.

With the release of Born and Raised, Venice is getting a second chance, a rare opportunity in any aspect of life, but one doubly uncommon in the cutthroat world of entertainment.  The band's attitude towards being able to make a new album, seven years after the first, makes one wish everybody had to go through the learning experience Venice had. Kipp expresses a youthful exuberance talking about the record and its making.  "It's just like we started over again.  There's no rush like when you know it's right, when you finish writing a song, and I don't care if it's uncool to be this happy about songwriting.  We love it!  It's a high that's different than sex or drugs.  There's nothing like it.  There's no way to explain it."

Michael, who produced the record, understandably didn't have much to say on this afternoon.  Food poisoning will do that to you.  But when the subject of the band's approach to crafting Born and Raised's 16 songs arose, he uttered one word, "Simplify."  That he could narrow it down that succinctly is apropos, as Born and Raised is the kind of extended ode to the craft of songwriting that has exceedingly vanished in the onslaught of technology.

From the opening track, "That's the Way It Is," through narratives like "Bad Timing Song," "If I Were You" and "We're Still Here," Venice pours forth with a moving honesty.  The sparse, sometimes acoustic arrangements highlight the band's lyrical integrity.  Michael says of his aspirations, "I tried to capture the intimate part of the live show - the personal, up-close, vulnerable side of it."  And he has, with some help from his songwriting mates.

Michael says of Kipp, "He's never had a problem writing about what he is going through or feeling."  Whereas Kipp says of Michael, "He's so great to collaborate with.  He's sort of taught me an economy of emotion.  You're getting the emotion across, but what if we just say this?"

Being in a family is hard enough, but being in a situation where you're surrounded with family everyday sounds like it would be more than most people could take.  But from the way Kipp and Michael speak about each other, Venice thrives on it.  They would have to, to have enjoyed the recording process as much as they do.  As Kipp explains, "This album we did in a vacation house up in the mountains, with the equipment we bought from the recording budget.  We weren't on the clock.  For us, to all be in one house, go to bed at a reasonable hour, eat together, talk about what we did the day before, record a track, then go for a swim in the pool, and then record another track, it was just cool.  We were living the album the whole time."

That laid-back feel comes across in a way that calls to mind they heyday of the California singer / songwriter, when artists like Jackson Browne, The Eagles, Linda Rondstadt and James Taylor ruled the airwaves and the charts.  Venice has no problem recognizing that and admitting who their influences are.  But, Kipp quickly adds, "We're not a retro band or anything.  We're not just copying the '70s sound, but there's a certain influence that comes through in our music.

They are not, however, out-of-touch dinosaurs.  They're big fans of Beck, and are completely up on Tricky, Nine Inch Nails, and Smashing Pumpkins.  Maybe that's why Venice attracts listeners of all ages.  Kipp says of the band's loyal audience, "The age range is ridiculous, from sort of pre-teen to people in their mid-40s."  Even more important is the way the base continues to expand.  He adds of their recent shows, "A good 50% of the people I don't recognize.  It's like every time, more and more people are telling more and more people."

With age and some misfortune comes wisdom.  "We've been doing this for awhile," offers Kipp, "and you get to a certain point where you realize it's okay if people don't like you.  We're just glad that every time we play for a whole new roomful of all-new people, we get the same response as when we play for our own crowd.  That's all we care about.  We just wanna get to the people who are into our thing."  As long as they keep making honest music, they'll find those people, or those people will find them.  Whichever way it works out, it's already got a happy ending.