CBGB Closes: Old People Sad

    CBGB’s closed last week, and I for one couldn’t be happier. If I learned one thing after my visits to this “legendary” club, it’s that it was decidedly past its prime. Instead of the scene described in history books, this CBGB was eight dollar drinks, pictures of famous people on the walls, and bands that no one cared about. The fact that the venue is moving to Las Vegas should tip people off to the truth: punk is the new Disneyland, and this will just allow frat boys and middle America to have one fewer trip on their vacation wish list. This is a piece of shit venue that people liked for that very reason. As it got older, CBGB’s became the good ol’ days, and I’m certainly not the first person to point out that the good ol’ days and punk hardly go together.
    [more:]So when I read articles like this, where they say “when CBGB closed its doors this past Sunday, it marked the end of an era,” I laugh out loud. Excuse me? That era ended, oh, about twenty years ago. Punk rock died when the first kid said “punk’s not dead,” right? Look at who came back to celebrate the club: artist that haven’t been relevant in years trying to reclaim their glory days. It’s ridiculous.
    There is, of course, a real tragedy here, which is the gentrification of New York’s East Village and Lower East Side. Though it’s hardly a new development, the trend has really started to kick into high gear, with skyskrapers popping up and a Whole Foods being built five blocks from the site of this “punk shrine.” But this is tragic not because the good ol’ days are being lost, but because the potential for a thriving community in the present is being lost, thanks to rising prices and every person in America’s desire to live in Manhattan. CBGB’s, on the other hand, was a museum, something punk never asked for or wanted until its original fans became old enough to become the establishment. Kids today… right, Patti?
    In an article that the AP wrote on the closing, they said that “memories are all that will remain” after the club closes. I’ve got news for everyone, memories (most of them stolen) are the only thing that has been filling that club for some time now. It’s time for new generations to build their own damn clubs, and save the shrines for Elvis.