There is much gnashing of teeth and wonton lamentation at the demise of the Hydey as an alternative music venue. In its stead stands a discount liquor supermarket. Surely this is a fair swap: when the equivalent dens fell by the wayside in the 1980s and 1990s they did so in far less fortuitous manner. The Shents – remodelled as a home for the elderly; The Shaftesbury – demolished; The Grosvenor and the Old Melbourne – yuppified; Canterbury Court – demolished. And so it went.
The Hydey rubs it in by displaying posters for gigs gone by (the posters are suitably frayed and torn – tres Rock’n’Roll). One such flyer brought to mind a show I managed to attend, an unexpected delight, a fine gig. Throughout the course of the evening, I was personal witness to at least eight patented Rock’n’Roll moves. The exact number is uncertain, in part because it remains a matter of great dispute whether 6 is distinct from or merely an extension of 5. This argument dates back to the early 1970s when Lester Bangs and Robert Christigau came to blows over the very topic at a rock writers’ convention the two were attending in NYC. There was of course no appearance of move 11, which to the best of my knowledge has been used but once, by Ronald S. Peno of the Died Pretty.
These musing brought to mind the Claisebrook Tavern, also a great venue of the 1980s, and host to the greatest gig ever, a Kryptonics show that deserves a post of its own.
No comments:
Post a Comment