By Lynell George, Times Staff Writer

Impresario Rocco Somazzi is wearing yet another hat — or rather, at the moment, another apron. He sails out of the kitchen of Cafe Metropol, deep in the industrial section of downtown L.A., with three plates — two endive salads and a cheese plate — for a table of women who look as if they're just coming off work. He pivots toward another table and pulls out a pad. A mother and daughter, who looks to be about 7, gaze up at him: "You guys want some pizza? It's very, very good."
The music is just starting up; the Kathleen Grace Band begins working through its first set: "My Ship," "La Mer," "Sunrise, Sunset." The energy of the room — the music competing with dinner conversation and the unpredictable rhythms of a Friday evening — is a night-and-day situation for Somazzi, who for a couple of years ran one of the more adventurous destination jazz spots in the city, one that was as quiet as a temple.
For those hard-cores on the scene, Somazzi's name was (and is) synonymous with creative, assertive jazz. In 1998, he opened a room, Rocco's, high on a hill in Bel-Air and started booking some of the most adventurous acts he could lure.
"I was after music that was interactive. Music that was bold and not complacent. Something that was pure energy." Word of mouth brought him audiences and, some nights, a line outside.
Somazzi couldn't quite manage the overhead, and finally bailed. Soon after, he started booking shows at a theater on Santa Monica Boulevard's theater row — late-night sets, favored by musicians, that began after 10, after the theater crowd had cleared out.
After a disastrous booking with the famously unpredictable trumpeter Freddie Hubbard — "There were about 50 people, not 300" — Somazzi had to sell not just his car but his baby grand piano. He shuttered the business and took a step back to reconsider. In the last couple of months, he's been booking shows out of Barnsdall Park at the Gallery Theater and now at Cafe Metropol on 3rd Street (where he's the night manager). "Little by little I began to see the potential in the room."
Lighting the space and arranging the room is simple: "The single most difficult thing? Connecting the right audience with that atmosphere."
People from the neighborhood and friends of the band wander in, but the din has quieted some as the 10 o'clock hour advances. Since people live close by, instead of gearing up for a 10 or 11 p.m. start, Somazzi has to focus on winding down by midnight. "So it's always something."
In an odd twist of fate, Rocco's Bel-Air experiment has become Herb Alpert's pet project, Vibrato. And if Rocco's room became a citadel for serious jazz, in its current incarnation the music takes a back seat to after-work cocktails, expansive dinner chatter and an impressive date destination — with tasty steaks, chops and fish to boot. This doesn't mean that the music isn't sublime. It is. (Bobby Hutcherson and Toots Thielemans have played there; Dave Brubeck is scheduled.) It just has to compete with so much else. And for anyone who loves jazz, it's painful.