All things considered, it’s somewhat surprising that in 16 plus years, I’ve only devoted one or two posts to Wetlands Preserve, the fabled TriBeCa rock club on Laight Street that’s now been gone for twenty years. While, yes, its primary focus was ostensibly on hippy-dippy jam bands and Grateful Dead cover ensembles, the booking policy at Wetlands was refreshingly catholic. Most of the shows I saw at Wetlands had nothing to do with anything even remotely hippieish, from ska bands like The Scofflaws, Mephiskapheles and Fishbone through to hardcore stalwarts like Murphy’s Law and Agnostic Front to British indie outfits like Mansun and Echobelly. More in keeping with the ethos of the club, I remember seeing The Machine (a studiously faithful Pink Floyd cover band) and Dread Zeppelin (an all-white reggae band that played Zeppelin covers with an Elvis impersonator as lead singer). Every night was something different.
Back on this post, I mentioned that documentary that pretty much fully encapsulates everything you’d probably need to know about Wetlands. It’s worth your time, should you be curious. As mentioned, the club closed in 2001, shortly afterward to become a pricey bedding emporium for a few years. That corner space on Laight Street has now been devoid of an occupant for quite some time.
If I’m not mistaken, the very final show I ever saw at Wetlands would have been post-punk supergroup The Damage Manual with Ari Up of the Slits opening. The very first show I ever saw at Wetlands, meanwhile, might have been a funky-punky band called The Royal Crescent Mob. During the course of that show, my friend Tim kept feeding me shots called “Prairie Fires” — lethal combinations of tequila and tobacco sauce. After two or three of those, I slapped an offered fourth out of Tim’s hand (which landed messily on the dance floor) and repaired to Wetlands’ downstairs men’s room with all speed, where I proceeded to make Wetlands a bit …er…wetter.
So, why am I mentioning any of this now? Well, because a NYHC-reverent gent named Uptown Al recently posted a video shot within the dank confines of that downstairs bathroom. It’s a side of the club you’re not likely to see anywhere else, at the very least.
Turn back the clock to 1999 for a quick visit to the men’s room of Wetlands Preserve.
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