a pill with a camera on it

Sacred Abandoned

I've come here more often lately. It's something I picked up when I was young, maybe thirteen years old -- breaking into abandoned buildings in the middle of the night -- and now still, when I pass old dark buildings walking the streets at night, my heart opens up to their silence, as if I've entered the aural proximity of sacred grounds.  They are unnatural places of remoteness hidden within the cities of writhing staring strangers.

I found this wonderfully alone and silent apartment building one unusually warm March night in Minneapolis.  It had rained the day before so the broken widows let in a fresh wind that occasionally swept away the reek of mildew and decaying lead paint.  It's a big red-bricked place that was once rented for a moderate price, considering how spacious the rooms are.  Newly married couples in their 20s thought it the perfect space to get their lives organized.  Not to "settle down," that idea repulsed them. No, a place that offered just the right dimensions to "work with."  When the massive boiler was on and working, the radiators strained to throw their heat up into the high ceilings.  In the cold winter mornings they, the radiators, would look at each other and sigh, another day of hard work ahead of them once the young lady in flannel pajamas flipped the switch.


How little are we all aware that the bright and holy dream of our country has turned into a nightmare. A nightmare that I've begun to enjoy because of its wonderfully alone silence.  The more empty buildings, the more silent our cities become, and the more sacred spaces we'll find hidden in the hive.

Madison cop busts benefit show for Native American Tribe

If you're into local music and have lived in Madison for a year, you've seen it happen a dozen times.  DIY and other non-traditional venues get shut down within a couple of months of their inception.  The most infamous case being the shutdown of a punk warehouse venue after some dip-shit reporter wrote a show review that included the name of the venue, the basic location, and a list of "fire hazards," such as insulation falling out of the ceiling.  To be fair, the reporter could have simply been naive - maybe he had just finished reading Hell's Angels and was so inspired to get Gonzo on Madison's counter-culture that his enthusiasm overshadowed his discretion.  But notice how I chose to omit the name of the warehouse venue above...Years after it's been good-and-dead!  It's the principle of the thing and, most of all, a habit we need to adopt in order to protect our coveted unofficial, non-bar, all ages, DIY, BYOB, donation based, et cetera, venues.

After last weekend, I'm worried we're going to loose another one: a “shop” that recently hosted a benefit for a Native American Tribe in northern Wisconsin.  There are many reasons why it sucked to have the show busted, the main one being the fact that the tribe lost potential donations from more people entering or buying raffle tickets. 

But the incident also points to an over-arching issue for local music.  This undisclosed “shop” in Madison was being supportive of an honorable cause in a way that official venues rarely offer: opening their doors on a strictly donation-only basis, and welcoming all ages.  The owner is very communicative with his neighbors, monitors the sound level, and ends the music at midnight sharp, which goes above and beyond the usual level of courtesy you’ll get from most Madisonian party hosts. Still, the city and law enforcement treats these shows like are crawling with unruly punks causing trouble on the streets, and under-aged drinkers, and just a nuisance.  Well, they are.  ALL parties are!   Cops single out these gatherings because there’s a stigma attached to a party with live bands that doesn’t apply to good ‘ol keg n’ beer pong parties. They can’t control it, so they’re afraid of it.

It wasn't clear why the cop was there in the first place, but the organizers and show-goers said that they suspected that he was "just driving by" and saw and/or heard a band playing.  This is a reasonable assumption since the cop didn’t tell us there was a noise complaint, which they usually do if one was made.   However, I have suspicions that social media was the culprit. 

Minneapolis, where I’ve lived for two years now, has similar sad stories.  For a time (and perhaps still) there was a woman employed by the city whose sole job was to seek and destroy “anarchist/DIY” venues.  (Guess how she did her research?)  There were a couple tragic casualties in the summer of 2009 and 2010 - but one venue, a staple of Twin Cities local music culture, survived, and is still up and running today.  It’s called the... just kidding.  I won’t even hint at what or where it is - in fact, no one in the scene will.  And that’s why it’s still there.  On fliers, facebook events, forum posts, even in speech the venue “name” is obscured, twisted around, and made fun of; the venue doesn’t have a facebook page, and no one EVER posts the address ANYWHERE.  Even better, it doesn’t have an address.

There’s something to learn from this undisclosed carnival fun house in Minneapolis.  If you want to host bands to play in your basement, warehouse, garage, studio, shop, where ever, then make it clear that the location is a secret.  Hell, keeping it hush-hush and mainly word-of-mouth creates hype anyway.  Everyone will be better off.

In the end, the show at the shop in Madison wasn’t a complete bust.  Word was out in about five minutes that the show would be moved to a basement.  I got to the basement early, tidied up a bit, and within a half hour we were playing for a fun group of people who wanted to see a rock show. 

-IS