A rock club within walking distance of my apartment! I never thought it possible during my five years in Brooklyn. I was on 11th Avenue right off Prospect Park West, so aside from the summer shows in the park, there wasn't much I could reach by foot. And this was back when I was going to shows at a furious pace. I told people repeatedly that someone with cash was going to open a place on 5th Avenue. If I didn't have about $9 in savings, I would've gone after it on my own. And then someone did. And after years of waiting, Southpaw, clearly named after the Yankees' Ron Guidry, opened to an almost multiple-neighborhood cheer. Just a few blocks from our beloved O'Connors, we all picked up tickets to see The Mendoza Line on night one. As we chatted with excitement and ripped through every CD on the jukebox, every beer on tap and every corner of our new home, what seemed like 15 people took the stage. Stumbling around, some with instruments, and some kinda just hanging and chatting, a piano led to some random clapping and howling and then, "long for a bar with a quiet room, no one's gonna treat ya like a kid that way" and the entire venue was a bit spellbound. Though consistently inconsistent, on this opening night, The Mendoza Line were the perfect band for this club. They were loud, fun, messy and all-around joyous. And they sure weren't "killing me with protocols."
1 comments:
move back to NYC!
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