Memories of Maxwell's

I've erased 3 times now a compendium of links to any and all gigs I saw at Maxwell's. I'm sticking with not posting it. If you really care to read some cringe inducing assessments of a small slice of time (about 2005 through 2008) and of some particular bands, by all means use the search feature here in the old Gig Reviews archives and have at it. It is because of that narrow breadth and remembering my writing style at the time that I'm not offering it back up so easily.

However, that narrow breadth of bands and time make up my personal Maxwell's experience. It is a fraction of what many others experienced over the years with a lot more memories of a lot more music. And I am glad to think about it all over again today as the club comes to an end. For where I was during those years, musically speaking, it was as good as it could get (even the long trips to/from Brooklyn were an occasional plus in that there was time to think and catch one's breath...but that was about the only good thing about such a long hoof). Alongside Southpaw and the Mercury Lounge there was nothing better. It served, after years of already legendary status for bands that went on to make a mark, as a little depot with good food for the likes of some rust belt rock bands, garagepunk snots, cowpunk insurgents of all dispositions, and the occasional singer-songwriter who would stop one cold.

By calculations, it appears that I have still seen the Dirtbombs more times than any other band and I saw them more times at Maxwell's than anywhere else. In one or two of the above mentioned years, I went to Maxwell's more than any other club, period. I also gained a lot of weight off their menu. And then I shed a lot of that weight off, still going to the club. What this all means is that I have two things going on at once: some nice memories of my roaring 20's, highs and lows alike, and also a broken record of "remember when's", and all the trappings that come with that. This will prove to be true when eventually, every club I frequented goes away. It's the cycle of a rock n roll fan's existence. In fact I'll probably just copy and paste the last few sentences into the next walk down memory lane when a club closes.

Anyway, here's to Maxwell's. I'll do my part by honoring them every time I play certain bands on the old podcast. And also here's to Hoboken: you've done your part.