You Had a Lot to Say, You Had a Lot of Nothing to Say

CBGB's is dead, all hail CBGB's. The Times has perhaps the most fitting eulogy to the little club that could, appropriately with Patty Smith dealing the fatal blow. The overall sentiment seems to be stated best by Ms. Smith herself:

“Kids, they’ll find some other club,” Ms. Smith insisted during her set. They’ll find a place, she continued, “that nobody wants, and you got one guy who believes in you, and you just do your thing. And anybody can do that, anywhere in the world, any time.”

I was lucky enough to actually poke my head into the mecca a year ago when the Save CBGB's campaign was hitting its peak, and I can't say I disagree. The place is (was) a filthpit, but an extremely charming filthpit. It wasn't so unlike the bars I had seen and played shows in back in Wisconsin, right down to the bottles of PBR. Would this place be any different than Oshkosh's Reptile Place if it hadn't launched a million billion important bands? Well yes, it's still (was) in downtown Manhattan. Despite all the history it still wasn't Disneyland (although I did find myself in Times Square more often than I'd rather), it was the goddamn archetype. Later than night I saw two unavoidably better shows, one at the Knitting Factory. It has its own claim as fostering great stuff, but the pretention was a little thicker there. Not nearly the sense of drive, a lot of hipster dancing. Now the other show, in some guy's basement. There was potential.