Just a quickie.
My daughter had a birthday party to attend on Sunday at a place called SLATE on West 21st street which, I believe, used to be the bar/ club that Susan Sarandon co-owned after she dumped Tim Robbins and hooked up with that ping-pong magnate whose name escapes me. In any case, now it's just essentially a bar/nightclub (odd place for a teenager's birthday party, then), with an expansive downstairs area with pool tables, ping-pong etc.
After dropping off Charlotte, I stood and looked up and down the expanse of West 21st Street, marveling at all the nightlife history it boasts. For a while in the early-to-mid 80's, it played host to the mighty Danceteria, Sound Factory, SNAFU, the Cadillac Bar and several other similarly inclined ventures. I don't remember the exact address of the Sound Factory, but it's long gone today. The footprint of Danceteria is now a pricey condo with a Starbucks in its ground floor. SNAFU on the corner has changed hands more times than I've had hot dinners, as has the space that was the Cadillac Bar in the 80's and early 90's. Nothing stays put, evidently.
But of all the places that used to line 21st Street, the spot I frequented the most - despite my formative-but-fleeting experiences at Danceteria -- was the second iteration of Tramps. While it originally was perched over on East 15th Street, the 21st Street Tramps -- as I discussed here - was a great room that played host to a number of my favorite bands, back in the day, notably Cop Shoot Cop, The Wedding Present, Prong, the Blues Explosion, Robyn Hitchcock, Matthew Sweet and many more. I was exceptionally sad when it closed.
If I'm not mistaken, upon its original departure, it became a sophisticated house music club called Centro-Fly, and then Duvet, which was a nightclub with a bedding theme (I wish I was kidding). After those endeavors folded, the last time I'd noticed, it had become - as noted here, once again - a pricey stationery outlet called Envelopers.
Five years later, meanwhile, that ship has sailed, and the space is now occupied by a meditation center called Inscape, essentially meaning that the dance floor on which I saw Amazonian Corey Parks from Nashville Pussy breathe fire during a deafening cover of "First I Look at the Purse" is now a placid environment wherein to re-align your aching chakra.
Take me back.
Here's a bonus shot of what was SNAFU on the corner.... no idea who took it, alas...
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