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Welcome to my world: A world in which I am still finding my way and my voice; where the language is laced with dry humor; where stilettos and football games go together like peas and carrots; where happy hour starts long before 5; where I make mistakes, get angry and laugh my ass off; where I will never love anything as much as I love my cat; where no one knows your name and you like it that way; where comments are welcome and where strong women who fight for what they believe in are always adored.
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Monday, October 16, 2006
End of an Era
I am a child of the 80s where legwarmers were mandatory and punk rock was king. Then came high-school with Velvet Underground and Sex Pistols blaring over my radio while racing my friends to school (in my baby blue tank affectionately known as “the-granny-mobile” or “gran”) kool-aid red hair, fishnets, a mid-drift Anarchy-T and combat boots was my let’s go out garb (until the headmistress of Notre Dame Prep commented: “either you dye it back or cut it off….either way it’s gone by tomorrow). 
Are the new places always the most important? Or do we have to stand in the memories and sounds of the past in order create something new and lasting? Well, no matter what the answer, lovers of underground music will have to stand, jump, slamdance and sing along somewhere away from 315 Bowery but I have no doubt the music will play on. So as you pack up and move your walls, stools and urinals out west, I would like to say thank you CBGBs for your sticker-covered stage, worn down with time. Thank you for your sticky floor and grafitti covered staircase. Thank you for opening your doors to all musicians wanting to make a statement and stand out and to the listeners who filed in to be inspired. And most importantly thank you for music that defined a generation, a school of thought, an era. Music that ignited the night with passionate fire* - and still burns. 