Dirty & Dark - The Way Rock n' Roll Should Be

by Tom Edwards

As in real estate, the quality of a rock concert can be boiled down to 'Location. Location, Location' and one component still holds true: The filthier, darker, and more unseemly the location-the better.

There should be an element of dirtiness in the venue of a rock n' roll show. In the old days, bars and clubs that hosted touring acts were seedy grime pits that reeked of cheap booze, nicotine, and sweat-the kind of establishments where your shoes smacked as you walked across the bathroom floor.

These dives unabashedly served stiff drinks in mysteriously foggy glasses that still smelled like tequila even though they contained really bad Bloody Mary mix. These joints made people's hairdos still smell like the filter of a giant cigarette butt when they went back to their day jobs on Monday.

In these hell holes one could count the number of healthy teeth on a child's abacus. Now where have those places gone? Through a comprehensive marketing plan and public relations overhaul.

Now corporations snatch up old dilapidated theaters and implement their own special brand of 'corporate shine'. Example: Padded stadium seating has become the norm. In the old days, no one sat down. No one wanted to sit down because their pants would be ruined by the various fluids that resided on the chairs.

They even have a garrison of movie theater-style ushers that trot by every few songs to monitor the climate control-or the high tech smoke filtration system-or to condemn some members of the audience who may be interfering with others' enjoyment of the show-or simply kicking their feet up on the back of another's stadium seat. With authoritarianism like that, it'd be easy to forget whether one was watching an actual rock show or Aladdin.

These refurbished theaters smell like plastic and 'Carpet Fresh'. Now the bathroom floors are visible and unthreatening-and the johns flush automatically so there's no need to perform a crane kick a la 'Karate Kid' to the toilet bowl handle. They also have automatic hand drying blowers. Scary. In the old places, hands were never washed because the sink and the doorknob probably carried a few strains of the Outbreak virus.

Now the bars are bright and cheery with 62 different beers on tap, fried pub food with various zesty sauces, and a friendly 'neighborhood' feel. Their logos are everywhere, everything is computerized, and every surface is shiny and laminated. The bartenders are emotionless robots and the waitresses never seem to be wired on hard, elicit drugs. Many of them actually seem to be enjoying themselves.

Whatever happened to rude, crass, the spirit of the customer comes last? Whatever happened to dark and miserable, nauseous and pukey? Whatever happened to a multiplicity of health code violations, feeling slightly unsafe all the time, and bouncers fresh off the bus from Altamont ready to drink some beer and stomp punk runt skull?

Capitalism is here to stay, all of you pinko commies, but the essence of the live rock experience is going, maybe soon gone, because genuine regionalism has given way to corporate homogeny. To be sure of what's right, there will always be the stalwarts, the throwbacks, the old guard that understand the value of the rock experience-and are willing to ignore piles of cash to preserve it for every head banger who strolls through their doors.

After all, it is the experience more than simply the music- and this doesn't include the Brew City beer batter dipped onion rings, or the Sam Adams Double Raspberry Bock, or a cushy stool at a bar that was built during the microbrew boon of the 90's.

It's the darkness, and the grime it hides, it's the darkness that frees people to do what is wrong for a while, and when the darkness gives way to light at the end of the evening, everyone looks aroundand decides that the darkness was better, and they disperse very quickly off into the night-to their own private darknesses-far away from any corporate interference.