Flaming Pablum

Just Because

Splitting Factory

Evidently, this has been in the rumor mill for a while, but I've just learned that the Knitting Factory is closing. Well, technically, it's moving from the space it's occupied for the last fourteen years in TriBeCa and re-locating to Brooklyn. Whatever. It's leaving Manhattan which -- to my mind - basically means it is ceasing to exist (see also Rocks in Your Head).  I find this to be a colossal bummer and further evidence that downtown is dead (this, of course, is hardly news).

I still remember the old Knitting Factory on East Houston, where I saw acts like the Meat Puppets and Sonic Youth (performing as "Sonic Death"). That space split in two and became Botanica (the bar downstairs) and a cheap-o compact disc shop upstairs for a short while before morphing into a succession of restaurants. There is now a gargantuan condo in the works right next to it, surprise surprise. The "newer" Knitting Factory opened into a much greater space in TriBeCa in 1994, featuring multiple floors, stages, rooms and bars. I remember seeing a number of great shows there over the years, including artists like Steve Wynn, Elliott Smith, The Billy Nayer Show, The Wedding Present, Miles Hunt and Jonathan Richman.

 

I don't know when the Knitting Factory is officially shutting its doors, but it will be sorely missed when it goes. Yet another live music Manhattan institution bites the dust.

The Lifetime Listening List

 

I spotted this little exercise on my pal Erik's site recently and -- with nothing better to do -- found it to be a roiling headache. But here it is.

The Directions:  List your favorite album released in each year in which you have been alive (if you're dead, or have been dead at some point in your life up to now, you're allowed to skip the years in which you are/were deceased):

Fair enough. Here's my list. Know that there was a strenuous amount of agonizing involved in its compilation:

1967 - The Piper at the Gates of Dawn by Pink Floyd

1968 - The Beatles [White Album] by the Beatles

1969 - Kick out the Jams by the MC5

1970 - Fun House by the Stooges

1971 - Paranoid by Black Sabbath

1972 - Fragile by Yes

1973 - The Dark Side of the Moon by Pink Floyd

1974 - Diamond Dogs by David Bowie

1975 - A Night at the Opera by Queen

1976 - Destroyer by Kiss 

1977 - Never Mind the Bollocks by the Sex Pistols

1978 - Q: Are We Not Men?... by Devo

1979 - Singles Going Steady by Buzzcocks

1980- Killing Joke by Killing Joke

1981 - Killers by Iron Maiden

1982 - Plastic Surgery Disasters by Dead Kennedys

1983 - Piece of Mind by Iron Maiden

1984 - Treasure by The Cocteau Twins

1985 - Night Time by Killing Joke

1986 - Skylarking by XTC

1987 - Floodland by The Sisters of Mercy

1988 - The Spirit of Eden by Talk Talk

1989 - Bizarro by The Wedding Present

1990 - Louder Than Love by Soundgarden

1991 - Peggy Suicde by Julian Cope

1992 - Doppleganger by Curve

1993 - Suede by Suede

1994 - Dummy by Portishead

1995 - Lost Somewhere Between The Earth & My Home by the Geraldine Fibbers

1996 - Get Off the Cross by Firewater

1997 - Fantastic Spikes through Balloon by Skeleton Key

1998 - This Is My Truth Tell Me Yours by the Manic Street Preachers

1999 - Six by Mansun

2000 - Veni Vidi Vicious by The Hives

2001 - Psychopharmacology by Firewater

2002 - Songs for the Deaf by Queens of the Stone Age

2003 - Elephant by the White Stripes

2004 - Now Here is Nowhere by the Secret Machines

2005 - Silent Alarm by The Bloc Party

2006 - Age of Winters by The Sword

2007 - The Heart is a Small Balloon by Life in a Blender

2008 - The Golden Hour by Firewater

What made this list so difficult was that while there were several clear winners that required no second guessing, there were also certain years (1977, 1979, 1980, 1985, 1989, 1991 and 1994 specifically) that were positively torturous. For a music fan, it was a bit like "Sophie's Choice." As a result, many a splendid album and even many of my favorite artists were left out entirely (No Velvet Underground? No Ramones? No Clash? No Replacements? No Black Flag? No Modern Lovers? No Stranglers? No Robyn Hitchcock? No Damned? No Motorhead?) I know, I know... It doesn't feel right, but I'm giving my honest answers. Sue me. I'm sure the second I post this, I'm going to want to re-address it.

Altered Views

For over a decade, I worked until 4 a.m. on Fridays. My shift would start at 4 p.m. on Thursday afternoons at the TIME Magazine news desk, acting as a liaison between the editorial staff here in New York and the now-since-drastically-neutered network of correspondents around the world that we called "The News Service." At 4 a.m. -- barring any major, breaking news --  I'd pack up my stuff, sign off and was treated to a ride home in a car service, paid for by the magazine.  From 1996 on, that car would drop me at the corner of East 12th Street and University Place. I'd wearily climb out and look up at the night sky. At the time -- and for a few short years afterwards -- I was treated to one of the most iconic views of Manhattan history. As I looked south down University Place, the Twin Towers of the Word Trade Center loomed brilliantly over downtown Manhattan, each lit up in a random mosaic of office lights. It sounds contrived to suggest as much now, but that view never failed to wow me. We all know what happened a few years later, so I won't bother getting into that. But oddly enough, I still find my eyes searching for those buildings every time I walk down University Place, even this many years after the fact. I doubt the endlessly-delayed plans to erect a "Freedom Tower" (and please -- let's not call it that if it ever gets built) will change that. The old view still haunts me, and I'm sure I'm not alone.

While it's on a much less dramatic scale, the view to the north on University Place has also seemingly changed forever (or at least until the next unspeakable catastrophe). For decades upon decades, if one looked north from the `Place, one was treated to the greenery of Union Square and the pointed spires of both 874 Broadway (a splendidly dark, baroque building that looks as if it belongs in Prague's most Gothic environs) and the Metropolitan Life Tower. When the latter is lit at night with colored lights, it provides a strikingly garish contrast to the sepulchral gloom for the former. For years, it's been one of my most beloved views of the city. Click here to see it in its former glory.

Much like the view to the south, that view is vastly different now. In the last several months, thanks to a construction project at 24 East 23rd Street, the cityscape has changed, and an artless monolith has sprouted up like some gargantuan, robotic erection to decimate the symmetry. The rococo architectural flourishes of 874 are now dwarfed and lost beneath this new structure's priapic shaft, whose ever-growing roof juts over the spire of the Metropolitan Life Tower in a manner than can only be described as vain. It exudes a disdainful air of privilege and hubris, and its fruits will only be enjoyed by those affluent enough to live inside it. It's certainly not the first building to do this, and I strongly doubt that it will be the last. Taking off my rose-tinted glasses for a moment, I'm not suggesting that those lost, iconic buildings to the south were especially different architecturally from these new buildings, but the towers of the World Trade Center served a different age and a different function. While they may have embodied the very spirt of American capitalism, they at least acted as a open hub of business in a neighborhood designated for same. These new buildings are symbols of mighty financial muscle as well, but of a purely exclusive variety. They offer nothing to the community and are a visual blight.

Call me a hopeless sentimentalist, but I want the old skyline back.

 

ADDENDUM: Upon composing this post late last night, I failed to consider another new building that has punctured the vista on Univeristy Place, that being the unsightly structure that was put on the southwest corner of 14th street that calls itself 8 Union Square South, an oh so "tony" luxury condo that occupies the space formerly held by Odd Jobs. I hated Odd Jobs, honestly, but at least it was comparatively low to the ground. Regardless, this new building is awful. Oh, and check out the comments on this post, as my friend Jon makes a valid point.

 

A Place to Dream?

Time for some more name dropping. My friend Sean Wilsey just wrote an op-ed piece for the New York Times regarding the arguably uninventive plans for the restoration of the High Line. Sean has a few fanciful ideas. I'm not sure I agree with all of them (please don't build a roller coaster), but they're certainly thought provoking. Check out his opinion by clicking right here! Go Sean!!!

Sad News

I've written about them here before (most recently here), but sad news demands that I mention them again. I received an e-mail from my friend Dean this morning saying that Matthew Odietus, guitarist for The Candy Snatchers, passed away last week at the age of 40. I'd met him a couple of times, but I didn't know the man. Onstage, however, he was an intimidating, larger-than-life force to be reckoned with. The cause of death has not been disclosed. My condolences go out to his friends and family.

Dean was arguably the Candy Snatchers' biggest champion and knew Matthew well. A newspaper from Virginia Beach (the band's home base) conducted an interview with Dean in the wake of Odietus' passing. Click here to read it.

The video below was directed by my old friend Joanne, who first introduced me to Dean and the rest of these characters. The clip portrays the band -- and Matthew especially -- in typical, feral form (along with some footage of a now virtually unrecognizable East Village). Turn it up.

Rest in peace, Matthew

Billy & The Big Red Sun

I had a somewhat extraordinary evening. I popped out around 7:45 to go grab a bite to eat on 8th Street, finding an amazing falafel sandwich at Maoz (highly recommended). Afterwards, I sauntered East with the intention of picking up a DVD at Mondo Kim's. With Peg and the kids out in Quogue for all of July, I figured now was the time to catch up on some of the films I've been wanting to see. Crossing St. Mark's, I was suddenly face to face with a familiar figure in front of Trash & Vaudeville. Legendary drummer Billy Ficca of Television was hanging out and havin' a smoke -- that's right, an *actual, legitimate Punk Rocker* was hanging out on St. Mark's Place (who'd have expected that in 2008?). I stopped and said hello and he was a completely mellow, affable gent who was happy to talk. This isn't actually the first time I've accosted him. I ran into him once outside of Restoration Hardware on 5th Avenue a few years ago and he was equally chatty. According to Billy, he'll be doing some dates with bandmate Richard Lloyd in the near future, and evidently Television is doing some recording, but there's no target date for release as of yet. I bid Billy farewell, shook his hand and went off to Mondo Kim's, where I ending up buying the Joe Strummer documentary, The Future is Unwritten.

On my way back west, I was stopped dead in the middle of Astor Place by a truly stunning sight. Perfectly framed in the sky above the center of West 8th Street was the hugest, most clearly defined, luminously red setting sun I've ever seen. Truly, it was like a painting. This was at almost precisely 8:15 pm. Amid the hustle and bustle of downtown foot traffic, a few other individuals were similarly paused in their tracks by the dazzling display. I tried in vain to snap a picture with the camera in my phone, but it simply didn't translate. I watched the vast orb slowly sink behind 6th Avenue, feeling like I'd been treated to a rare privilege. I wish I could share it here. It was truly something to see.

In any case, it all made for an interesting few minutes indeed. And cheers again to Mr. Ficca.

Death by Digital?

I'm being woefully eclipsed by my similarly inclined comrades over at Vanishing New York and EV Grieve in terms of staying abreast of the rapid erosion of Manhattan and its sibling boroughs. Please visit those blogs for more authoritative accounts of such sad developments. Every now and again, however, I manage to spot some new disappearance and feel compelled to document it. One such instance occurred last week. While walking up LaGuardia Place, I couldn't help noticing that Spectra looked to be strangely closed. After snapping the picture at left, I crossed the street and peered inside. Sure enough, the vast space behind the glass and gate has been gutted. All that remains are a few wooden stools and other detritus.

This space wasn't Spectra's first perch on LaGuardia. It was originally one storefront to the north, a space that is now occupied by a somewhat ridiculous bar with a shlock Egyptian theme whose name escapes me. For those unfamiliar, Spectra was an endearingly efficient photo lab that prided itself on top quality prints. Prior to the current ubiquity of largely do-it-yourself digital photography, Spectra provided quick, state-of-the-art services and truly made even the most mediocre shutterbug's efforts look striking. I was a devout Spectra customer for years, and was routinely complemented on aspects of my pictures that had less to do with my composition and more to do with Spectra's pristine commitment to quality. Spectra could always be relied upon to do the very best with what you gave them. They were also amenable to special orders and unconventional sizing and were than more than happy to work with you on bringing concepts to fruition. Simply put, during my years as an avidly budding amateur photographer, Spectra was positively invaluable in both broadening my scope and nurturing my enthusiasm for the medium.

Upon the birth of my daughter in 2004, I decided to spring for a digital camera. The allure of its relative ease, stealth and sparkling results rendered my old camera somewhat moot. I vowed to keep experimenting with film, but I gradually became seduced by digital photography. After becoming a father, I had fewer and fewer opportunities to blithely walk around the city with my now comparatively unwieldy Maxxum 400si with its bulky, wide-angle Canon lens that I prized for a song at a second hand shop (I'm a sucker for the fish-eye). And why spend money on developing bushels of prints when I could handle the task on my own computer? In short order, I all but abandoned my old camera. It now sits dormant on a high shelf, gathering a fine patina of dust. As a result, Spectra no longer enjoyed my regular patronage, and I doubt my story is in any way an isolated case.

With the drop in business, I'd imagine Spectra had a hard time maintaining the spiraling overhead of their relatively plush headquarters. I'm not sure when they finally closed up shop (nor is there any mention of it on their website), but it looks like the formidable force of "modern convenience" has proved too much for them to compete with. While I unapologetically relish the simplicity and sterling results my digital camera provides, I already miss that feeling of anticipation when I used to walk through Spectra's front door to pick up my prints. The fact that I had to wait for them -- even if only for a little while -- made it feel special, a bit more like I was earning whatever great results ensued. I can't help feeling that, once again, immediate gratification of this nature will only lead us all to take certain gifts for granted.

Ice Cream Break

Behold the wee `Pablumites enjoying a dubiously earned and thoroughly messy ice cream break on the leafy-but-loathsome byways of Westhampton Beach. I hope everyone had a lovely long weekend. After four days out on the Island of Length with these little ones and the rest of my family, I'm back in the city for another week of work. More posts are in the pipeline. Stay tuned.

 

Dead Souls

Just let the poor man rest, you idiots.