A battle of ideals wages in the San Francisco Bay Area. Lured here by its bohemian legacy, tourists come primed to uncover the ground zero of beat poetry, hippie culture and countless music careers, from Jefferson Airplane to Tupac Shakur. That old world is fading now, to hear the locals tell it, edged out by Silicon Valley’s impossible wealth. Yet 1967’s philosophy still persists. ‘You go to New York to get rich, LA to get famous and San Francisco to be yourself,’ one cab driver intones, quoting a wizened flower child he once ferried.

Endangered it may be, but San Francisco’s old bohemia soldiers on, fuelled by a love for music. In the heart of Chinatown, close to City Lights Bookstore (Jack Kerouac’s old haunt), a man blasts soul from a boombox strapped to his wheelchair. An elaborate drum circle erupts in Golden Gate Park, beneath a slope known as Hippie Hill; players have met here every weekend since the Summer Of Love. We enter Haight-Ashbury at the park’s edge, passing the Jimi Hendrix mural and Amoeba Music (whose Hollywood branch is the world’s largest independent record store) in search of the Grateful Dead House, where the band lived in the 60s. We find a tall townhouse on an even taller street, built in distinctive Victorian style and painted a soft charcoal black. 

Determined to discover the contemporary scene, we head to Bottom Of The Hill, an iconic gig venue Rolling Stone calls ‘the best place to see live music in San Francisco’. Tonight is billed as emo, skater doom and post-grunge, with ‘grunge poet’ AP Tobler topping the list. Rainbow flags salute their largely LGBTQIA+ fanbase, who tirelessly mosh at the foot of the stage. ‘We write songs about wanting to die and stuff,’ Tobler murmurs into the mic, perfectly embodying mid-noughties emo angst.

The next day takes us over the Golden Gate Bridge into Berkeley, where we navigate a self-directed tour through Green Day land. Band logos plaster 924 Gilman Street, the punk-rock venue frequented by the band as teens, while Fantasy Studios where Dookie was recorded is now shuttered. Above the door of Oakland Guitars (previously Broken Guitars, owned by Billie Joe Armstrong), we spot a Scott Hutchison sticker: the store’s new owner is a fan. 

Five miles south is Oakland, where Tupac called home when he broke through with Digital Underground. His old apartment still sits on MacArthur Boulevard, now renamed Tupac Shakur Way. We stop by en route to Oakland Museum Of California, where celebrations for hip-hop’s 50th anniversary are underway. Locals of all ages form an amphitheatre around a DJ mixing glitchy breaks. In the fading light, we watch as toddlers spin alongside older hip-hop heads, the old guard teaching them the steps. 

Visit the official California tourist board website.