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When I pulled into the parking lot near Long Beach’s F&M Bank Amphitheater with just 30 minutes until the opening of the show on a recent Friday, my heart raced.

“Do you think we’ll make it in time?” I asked my boyfriend, worried.

We were heading to Ice Cube and Mike Epps’ “Everyday’s Friday” concert and comedy show — a celebration of the cult classic “Friday” movie franchise — so a huge turnout was guaranteed. And ever since F&M Bank Amphitheater opened earlier this summer, my social media feeds have been flooded with complaints about Long Beach’s new temporary waterfront venue. Concertgoers have cited uncomfortable seating, sky-high parking rates and long shuttle wait times.

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Those comments swirled in my head as I hustled toward the shuttle pickup line near the Pike Outlets. But to my surprise and relief, a bus arrived within a few minutes. After a roughly 15-minute drive through mild traffic, we made it to the venue just in time to see Epps tease a few audience members during his opening comedy segment.

The 11,000-seat F&M Bank Amphitheater has gotten a lot of buzz in the two months it’s been open, with conversations surrounding its funding, noise concerns in the neighborhood and the purpose of the venue for the city of Long Beach. My mission was simply to see what it’s like to experience a show. The verdict? If you’re not expecting luxury and you arrive with a healthy dose of patience, it’s a treat.

Here’s a rundown, starting with getting to the amphitheater. Because the venue doesn’t have its own parking lot, the options are rideshare, the bus, e-scooters, bikes (with storage available at the venue), taking a water taxi ($5 per way) or paying $55 for reserved spaces, then taking the free shuttle.

Walking inside felt less like entering a temporary venue and more like stepping into a mini music festival. The pathway toward the security checkpoint was adorned with a bright abstract mural, hanging lights and swaying palm trees. A display of lowriders greeted us alongside a massive mural of iconic scenes from the film “Friday,” including Cube and Chris Tucker’s legendary “Dammnnnn” moment. Deeper into the grounds, fans delighted in interactive art installations — from a replica of Pinky’s Records & Discs to Craig’s front porch. Nearby were even more classic lowriders that drivers made bounce and dance for the crowd. The layout made the space feel more expansive and interactive than just watching a performance.

The spacious F&M Bank Amphitheater felt like a mini music festival with food trucks, art installations and more.

(Daniel Rojas)

Food trucks and bars were scattered throughout, serving up tacos, burgers, hot dogs and other hand-held bites. I ordered a smashburger with fries — which was decent though the line moved slowly — and paired it with a cocktail, which was moderately priced by L.A. standards ($19 for premium liquor). Grab-and-go beers and seltzers were easily accessible although I didn’t spot any refillable water stations around the venue.

And a major thing to note is the venue’s only restrooms are Porta Potties. I was instantly grateful that I’d brought hand sanitizer as there weren’t any hand-washing stations near the entrance. Fortunately, a second portable toilet area deeper inside the venue had working sinks and held up well throughout the show.

Thousands of fans attended the “Everyday’s Friday” event, which celebrated the “Friday” movie franchise.

(Daniel Rojas)

Much like shows at the Hollywood Bowl, the concert kicked off a few minutes after 7 p.m. With our burgers and margaritas in hand, my boyfriend and I nestled into our seats in the center 300 section, which gave us a clear, unobstructed view of the stage. Thanks to the tiered bleacher-style seating, almost every seat in the house offers a great vantage point. The actual seats were hard and mildly uncomfortable, but we didn’t mind this because we stood up for most of the show. Some attendees opted to hang out at one of the many picnic tables sprinkled around the venue.

By the time Houston rap legend Scarface — who’s known for his use of heavy bass — hit the stage I realized just how crisp the sound quality was. Even when we left our seats for a quick bathroom break, I could still hear the music clearly. The sound combined with lasers and immersive backdrop visuals of scenes from the films elevated the show experience.

Thanks to the tiered bleacher-style seating, almost every seat in the venue offers a great vantage point of the stage.

(Eric Thayer / Los Angeles Times)

It’s difficult to ignore the picturesque views of the harbor and famed Queen Mary, particularly at sunset. (On certain concert days, the Queen Mary offers free admission.) It felt like the perfect setting for a show that celebrated the beloved film, its soundtrack and most importantly West Coast hip-hop culture.

About two-thirds into Ice Cube’s set, I noticed small groups of people sneaking toward the exit. Mindful of the online horror stories about post-show delays, my boyfriend and I decided to duck out early to beat the rush. By the time we made it outside, people were already power-walking toward an expanding line. Security seemed scrambled, first directing a large crowd of us to the far side of the pickup zone, which sparked confusion and frustration, then waving us back. Unlike the Hollywood Bowl, which has fleets of shuttles ready to go, F&M Bank Amphitheater’s shuttle operation felt a bit leaner. Still, a bus arrived within 10 minutes, and despite initially driving to the wrong drop-off spot, the driver quickly course-corrected and got us back on track.

V.I.P Records, a store that helped launch the careers of artists like Snoop Dogg and Warren G, had a booth at the event.

(Daniel Rojas)

As an avid concertgoer, I enjoyed the overall experience at the F&M Amphitheater. It delivered on all the key elements I look for in a show: pristine sound, engaging visuals and a seamless entry. While the venue still has some post-show shuttle kinks to smooth out — an expected growing pain for a new space — it successfully turns a temporary layout into a lively entertainment venue that could soon evolve into a permanent “Long Beach Bowl.” For music lovers and promoters alike, that’s worth celebrating.

Kevin Lyman has always lived life on the move. For years it was a symptom of working to keep up with Warped Tour, a punk rock circus on wheels. Since bringing the festival back last year to celebrate its 30-year anniversary, he’s switched his mode of transport from buses to planes. What started as a two-month tour across the U.S. and parts of Canada is now a strategically placed, five-date extravaganza starting this weekend in Long Beach. With stops in Montreal, Mexico City, Orlando and Washington, the tour has gotten bigger with the partnership of EDM promoter Insomniac but Lyman insists that the soul of it remains the same.

Thriving on a mix of punk, emo, ska, hardcore, metal and action sports, Warped has become an entry point to festival culture for a new generation of fans, requiring Lyman to always move forward in his musical tastes while still trying to stay true to the essence of what made Warped more of a community than just an annual event.

Recently he chatted with The Times to discuss the process of continuing the fest’s revival and why it’s still a vital part of the summer festival ecosystem.

What were your initial thoughts after Warped Tour’s big comeback in Long Beach last year?

I was really nervous. To be honest, I knew I had one shot at getting it right. I knew there were going to be bigger stages, we were going to have video and lights, but I also knew that I had to make it feel like Warped Tour between the performances. So that little bit of controlled chaos we had between the stages — the merch tents, all the sponsorship booths, the skate ramps, the surprises we threw out each day — I think it was mission accomplished. The feedback overall has been fantastic from the fans. For some people closer to my age demo, maybe it was a little too much — their feet hurt. But Warped came back strong, we went back on sale [for 2026] fairly quickly, and to still have 50% of the people buy the tickets right away without knowing a band on the bill yet was great.

Jimmy Eat World is doing like their 25th anniversary of “Bleed American” at the fest this year. What does it mean to you to have some of those early Warped Tour bands like that on the bill again?

It felt good to have a lot of those bands. For me, one of the more emotional ones last year was Rise Against. They had such a big moment. They were such a part of Warped Tour, and you get them to come back and then watch that crowd, every phone went up in the crowd, and probably 50% of the people there had never seen them before.

“I’ve been a disruptor, and the disruption I’ve caused has attracted enough people. Now we’re a niche of people,” Lyman says. “Warped is a great niche.”

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You’ve always had your own way of doing things that created the culture of Warped Tour. Why do you feel it is still so vital in the festival ecosystem today?

I had to carve a niche out for myself in the industry. I was never going to really quite conform. I kind of came from that rebellious spirit that Goldenvoice instilled in me back in the ‘80s when I worked for them, and Gary Tovar was rebellious. So I’ve always kind of had that mentality of, “Hey, let’s go against the norm. Let’s make it something our own.” And even when I’m teaching at USC now, I say you have to learn the foundations of every business. And those foundations, to me, were working 12 years in the clubs of L.A., 320 nights a year, and then you have to make something your own. I always say when you decide to go for it — go for it. And I did, and it seemed to connect with enough people and resonated with enough people that I’d been around that said, “Wow, this is different. He needs to work on it. But instead of knocking him down, let’s support him.”… I’ve been a disruptor, and the disruption I’ve caused has attracted enough people. Now we’re a niche of people. Warped is a great niche.

How did you keep Warped on people’s minds year-round while you were planning it out this year?

That was a challenge because before we used to have the two-month tour, so we were able to build community to keep the conversation going. Community is a big driver for me. Everything we’re doing now is investing in the community, and I think it’s working. [In January] we had a downtown Long Beach event with the band Holy Wars, we had an event in Orlando. We had one event in a fraternity house backyard in Virginia, we had events in Mexico City and Montreal … canned food drives, blood drives or, you know, register to vote. We’ll drop those kind of events so we’re constantly in everyone’s mindset. And it’s not about monetizing. I think people are always asking “How do you monetize the superfan?” I’m like, “How do you reward them?” Giving people a free Sunday afternoon event in Long Beach, that’s a thank you. Those are the people that are going to spread the word when you post a video, they’re going to share it with all their friends, and then they’re going to be telling kids at their schools. A third of the people going to Warped had never been to a festival or even a concert before, so we need to engage them in a different way.

What are your ways of scouting out bands you want to take a chance on when booking the festival?

Well, I have a great booker named Amanda Phelan. She books with me, so she’s kind of that on the ground talking to the agents and things. I don’t necessarily do that much anymore. I talk to them, but my part is more like, “Oh, I want to see what bands other bands are talking about, or young people are talking about.” And then I’m also talking to lots of the independent promoters out there that you know I used to work with.

Why do you think younger generation of fest goers will keep discovering Warped Tour?

We used to be that festival where you know it was over by sunset, your mom could pick you up at the curb or you could get home by dark, and then you went off to other festivals. We were your entry point to festivals. We may be that entry point again, but a lot of it now will come down to price point. We know the economics of Warped Tour are conducive for people that want to go on two levels: ones that want to come and explore a festival, and other ones, maybe some of your peers, who don’t get to go out every night and see bands anymore because they all have real jobs and things. But they can go for one for two days and catch up on all music, which makes you feel like you’re staying young.

We took Atlantic all the way to the Pacific, traveling from the San Gabriel Valley to Long Beach on foot. On the last morning of May, a group of us set out at 7:45 a.m. from a barren In-N-Out parking lot in Alhambra, where Atlantic Boulevard begins. We kept walking until we reached the water, 12 hours and more than 55,000 steps later.

In all, our group passed eight freeways, two highways, and one river, twice. We walked through a dozen cities: Alhambra, Monterey Park, Commerce, Vernon, Maywood, Bell, Cudahy, South Gate, Lynwood, Compton, Long Beach and, of course, Los Angeles.

We spent only about 1.5 miles, a half-hour, in the city of Los Angeles itself, all in East L.A. We spent more time in Lynwood than Los Angeles. We spent far more time — more than a third of our day — in Long Beach.

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To walk Atlantic was to connect the dots about how our region functions economically, from the port to the factories to the suburbs. It was also to realize just how expansive and multifaceted Long Beach is.

This is the sixth such walk of one lengthy street that, ending at the ocean, we’ve completed across Los Angeles. Our pursuit began in 2022 with Wilshire’s 16 miles, continued in 2023 with Sunset’s 25, maxed out in 2024 with Western’s 28-plus miles, and stepped back in 2025 with Pico’s 15.5 miles. Earlier this year, roughly 30 of us strolled all of Santa Monica’s 14.5 miles.

This time, we started with a group of 16, ranging in age from 20-something to sexagenarian, and finished with 12. Some walkers left and joined us along the way. Ten, including one Long Beach local, completed the street.

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1. Pedro Moura, center, gives a pep talk before leading a group on a 25-mile walk the length of Atlantic Boulevard. (Scott Strazzante/For The Times) 2. In so-L.A. fashion, a Tesla Cybertruck rolls past a pile of possessions flooding the sidewalk in front of an apartment building. 3. Josiah Fields, 15, earns money by cleaning car windshields at the intersection of Atlantic and Alondra Boulevards. 4. During the final mile of the their 25 mile walk, Chloe Stepney and Trevor O’Brien lead the way past Louis Burgers III on Atlantic Avenue. (Scott Strazzante/For The Times)

We’ve been playfully calling our annual jaunts the Big Walk. This one, we called the Bigger Walk. I suppose that makes Western the Biggest. We’ve come to believe the ideal distance for an all-day effort is about 20 miles. That seems long enough for it to feel like a real feat and short enough to include more interested folks and ample break time.

After a tranquil time on Santa Monica, I wrote that we expected Atlantic to be the opposite experience — “unwieldy, at times unwelcoming, and excessively industrial.” That was an overstatement at best and factually wrong at worst.

We did visit Vernon, the city that proudly promotes itself as “exclusively industrial.” But by one measure, Atlantic was literally the most welcoming street we’ve done yet. Many more people greeted us. The actual street was at least as pedestrian-friendly as Western or Sunset. At no point did we have to walk on the road or in a minuscule median.

We did, though, have to cross five crosswalks just to continue on Atlantic at one point, at an absurd intersection with Ferguson Drive, Goodrich Boulevard, Telegraph Road and Triggs Street. Railroad tracks and the famed old East L.A. Union Pacific Station stood to our left, and the 5 freeway to our right. Clearly, pedestrian convenience had not been front of mind during the area’s planning.

Oil might be the simplest way to illustrate how Atlantic differs from more famous L.A. streets. On Pico Boulevard, there are oil derricks hidden behind elaborate, towering facades. Along Atlantic, the derricks are just everywhere in plain sight for a while. We did walk atop both the Long Beach Oil Field, a mega giant field, and the Wilmington Oil Field, the third-largest oil field in the contiguous United States.

That’s Atlantic, lacking in pretense, not hiding anything, but exceeding our expectations. We saw more plants native to our region, including Cleveland sage and Sacred datura, than along Santa Monica. And we kept encountering vibrant pockets where we did not know they would be. Monterey Park was the first to impress us, with gorgeous Cascades Park tucked into a lush little valley.

A rose peeks through a fence at St. Rose of Lima Church on Atlantic Boulevard.

Lykayla Melendez poses in her quinceañera dress at Cascades Park along Atlantic Boulevard.

In East L.A., chilaquiles, tamales, tejuino and ribs were all available street-side, and one of our members noticed the newer location of the famed La Azteca Tortilleria in a strip mall near the Metro station. Azteca has been the No. 1 seed in Times columnist Gustavo Arellano’s tortilla tasting tournaments with KCRW; we picked up a couple dozen to go.

Farther south, Bell is best known locally as the home of brazenly corrupt city officials earlier this century. When we passed through, the shade provided by a pocket park in the city center became a crucial respite for our lunch break. Across the street, a community market was just starting up for the afternoon. We caught a couple songs from a talented mariachi band.

Once we crossed the 105 overpass, we quickly encountered four sizable parks, each no more than two miles from the last. We saw one pump track, two tennis courts and skate parks, several sports fields, and an impressive number of food trucks, including Instagram-famous Kitchen’s Corner BBQ. At least another dozen food vendors seemed to be setting up for evening service as we marched by in the late afternoon.

By the third park we passed, we were in Long Beach, specifically North Long Beach. The fourth, Scherer Park, is a sprawling, 26-acre gem. Soon enough we were in Bixby Knolls, where, for more than a decade now, Long Beach officials have been investing in improving bicycle and pedestrian access. It shows. We had a delightful happy hour on Ambitious Ales’ front patio overlooking Atlantic.

August Fagerstrom and Pedro Moura fist bump a well-wisher on Atlantic Avenue.

Official lists of the longest L.A.-area streets are almost impossible to find. Often, such lists are kept by cities. The longer the street, the less likely that all of it is within one city’s limits.

We can say this: There are not many stretches of a single street with the same name longer than Atlantic in the L.A. Basin. Western Avenue, definitely. Imperial Highway, depending on your perspective on what constitutes a street. Sunset is about the same length. And that’s about it.

Unless you want to be particularly persnickety and disqualify Atlantic on the grounds that it technically has two names. For its northern 10 miles, Atlantic is a boulevard. For its southern 15, it’s an avenue. Where Maywood becomes Bell, it switches. But it’s Atlantic all the same, and that was good enough for us.

Surely you’ve been wondering about the origin of the name. Atlantic has been named for the distant ocean since the 19th century, when a Brit tried to christen a city after himself and named its three major streets Pacific, American and Atlantic avenues, from west to east. American is now Long Beach Boulevard, so it no longer makes much sense.

At the end of their 25-mile walk, Chris Kirkham celebrates with fellow walkers at Atlantic Avenue and Ocean Boulevard.

Speaking of names: Our Alhambra is named after a Washington Irving book inspired by his visit to the 13th-century Islamic fortress of the same name in what is now Spain. You can walk to the actual Atlantic from that Alhambra in about 150 miles.

This was easier than that, at least. If you’re eager to explore the backbone of Los Angeles, curious for a challenge, you could do worse than attacking Atlantic. I promise you’ll see something new. We saw a street juggler. We saw a live chicken and a dead turkey. We saw a discarded box of Pacifico beer that had been cooking in the sun so long it turned from yellow to white.

Pedro Moura points out Chloe Stepney’s sock tan line as they celebrate the end of their 25-mile walk down Atlantic with a dip in the Pacific Ocean at Alamitos Beach.

After we rinsed our weary feet in the Pacific, some of us waddled back up to Downtown Long Beach and scarfed down Sonoratown burritos and chivichangas before heading home. It was a Sunday well spent.