I Don’t Wanna Go Down To The Basement

NY Punk Godfather and CBGBs owner Hilly Krystal died this week, just a few months after that famed dive closed it’s doors. I guess you could say both the club and the man were victims of the ever changing city.

The Bowery, the neighborhood in which Hilly operated CBGB, was a seedy, dirty, drug addict and wino infested place when the club opened in the ’70’s and when I lived there in the early 90’s, but is now an up and coming area filling up with trendy stores and eateries and high-priced housing, just like every other area of Manhattan.

I went to CBGB’s a few times and saw some good (and really bad) bands there. There was something special about the place and in my opinion it was this: In a city that is notorious for disgusting bathrooms, CBGB’s had the absolute worst. Really. There are no descriptives strong enough to do justice to the putresence of the dank holes I can only loosly describe as restrooms. My one and only exchange with Hilly was about the bathrooms. After holding my breath and running in, doing my business and running out as fast as I could, I informed Hilly that the men’s room had no paper towels. He replied,”Yeah? Well, that’s been the case since about ‘82.” Then he chuckled and walked away.

By the time I had moved to the city, CBGB’s wasn’t the happening spot it once was. There was still live music, of course, and it’s status as the home of New York punk kept it busy on the weekends, but it was more of a nostolgia than anything else. The town has passed Hilly by. Still, it was a warm and friendly kind of shithole.

Anyway, rest in peace, Hilly. Thanks for the place to see music and drink PBR on the cheap.

Gabba Gabba Hey!