In the Club

Night after night, an endless succession of bands (good and bad) mounts the clubs’ fabled stages. The bands, modeling themselves on previous generations who once played on the same stages, perform before audiences ranging in size from full houses to no one at all, and if they’re lucky, receive some sort of positive feedback; more likely they receive hollow accolades and insincere encouragement from self-anointed experts and drunks. Then they go out and do it over again the next night at another club. But despite the endless effort, fame and fortune remain elusive. The odds of any of the bands ever “making it” are staggering.

Some of the clubs, launching pads from which aspiring bands either rise or fall, survive constantly changing styles and fashions. Owned and operated by local legends like Hilly Krystal (CBGB), Trigger (Continental), Don Hill (Don Hill’s), Jesse Malin (Niagara) and “Handsome” Dick Manitoba (Manitoba’s), the venues have weathered it all, from punk to electro, from police harassment to media praise, and their resourceful proprietors have seen it all. We asked them to comment on that thin line between love and hate, success and failure.

Since 1973 Hilly Krystal has owned the legendary Bowery club CBGB. He cites The Ramones, Talking Heads and Blondie as the biggest names to come out of his club. Trigger, who opened The Continental in 1991, proudly points to his role in launching early ‘90s jam bands like Spin Doctors, Blues Traveler and Joan Osborne, as well as local punk sensations D Generation. Club veteran Don Hill, who opened his venue in 1994, hosted the first gigs by The Strokes, Interpol and Stellastarr, and provided a home base to queer metal cult band the Toilet Boys.

These club icons have witnessed the action firsthand, and put out albums to document the action: Hilly self-released Live At CBGB to capture the venue’s punk rock heyday; Trigger’s new Best Of NYC (Live at Continental, www.continentalnyc.com)offers raw cuts by Downtown legends like Joey Ramone, Murphy’s Law and Lunachicks; and Don Hill’s’s trashy Röck Cändy parties are chronicled on New York City Rock & Roll (Radical Records), with performances by the next generation of local upstarts, including Sex Slaves, Slunt, and Joker Five Speed.

For every Ramones-style success story there are thousands of flops. Hilly estimates CBGB has booked 75 bands a week for the past ten years, Trigger and Don Hill offer similar figures. To get an idea of how many people participate in the game, multiply the number of bands by the number of band members, and multiply that by the number of venues.  That’s a lot, and very, very few of them achieve success, despite talent, timing and tenaciousness. To the outside observer, the Downtown Rock clubs are fun and entertaining, but to insiders they’re haunted, blood-soaked battlegrounds of broken dreams.

Despite the Downtown Rock scene seeming to function as a school of Rock, few bands make it out of here. Quality ain’t always the issue. There’s no explanation why so many solid bands never make it while some shitty ones become household names. Hilly recites a long list of remarkable also-ran bands you’ve never heard of, including Crossfire Choir, Orchestra Luna and The Shirts. Don Hill rattles off a litany of near-miss stories like Psychotica and Circus Of Power. Trigger cites Honky Toast and Sea Monster as examples of local outfits that did everything right, yet still wound up on the wrong side of viability. “The odds are astronomical,” Trigger offers. “Just getting signed to a label is nearly impossible. Then you’ve gotta deal with the industry obstacles.” Quips Don Hill, “Many are called but few are charted. Playing these venues is like going to school, a university of misfits.” Hilly Krystal offers his two-cents’ worth: “A lot of the problems have to do with lawyers and would-be managers. It’s a tough, tough business. But then again, how many actors or fine artists make it?”

In 1999, Dick Manitoba opened his own bar on Avenue B, a Cheers-type set-up with the ephemera of his personal Rock history emblazoned on the walls. Dick recorded for four major labels throughout his career with cult punk bands The Dictators and Manitoba’s Wild Kingdom, so he knows the deal: “It rarely takes off. Bands get signed, act like big shots, and six months later they’re back bartending. I’ve been through it, it’s a humbling experience.”

Around the corner from Manitoba’s sits Niagara, Jesse Malin’s bar since 1998. Malin, referred to by friends as “Mayor of The Lower East Side,” ran the clubs Green Door and Coney Island High, and sang for Downtown bands D Generation, Heart Attack and Hope, yet only recently achieved a modicum of industry success as a solo artist with two albums on the Artemis label.

Niagara is recognizable for its tribute to The Clash’s Joe Strummer painted on the outside wall, which explains all you need to know about the vibe inside. “It’s easy to get caught up in all the attention you receive in the local bars and clubs,” Malin says. “But you don’t wanna end up as a legend-in-your-own-mind. That happens too often here. I know too many people like that. It’s tragic, kinda pathetic.”

Rock is a young band’s game. The average band’s lifespan is two or three years, and they’ve gotta strike while the iron’s hot; gotta know when to hold’em, and know when to fold’em. Trigger concurs: “The name of this business is new bands. If you look at booking calendars from three or four years ago, eighty percent of those bands have broken up. So that gives you an idea of how difficult this path can be.”

Along with the throngs of local bands come the aspiring out-of-town bands that travel to New York for their big industry showcase. They’re often in for a sobering reality. Sometimes these failures can be tragic. Five years ago a hot Southern band called Four Squirrels played their CBGB showcase to a lukewarm reception, and were killed on the way home when their van crashed on I-95. No one will ever know if a despondent, self-critical conversation distracted the driver’s focus.

“I’ve seen ’em come from as far as Japan and play to three people,” Don Hill says. “There are thousands of bands from all over playing to huge crowds and making a living, but no one cares about ’em. This is the entertainment capital of the world, and it lives by its own rules. You gotta earn it here, it’s not a given.”

So what exactly does this all mean? It means stay in school, don’t give up the day job. Focus on all those so-called career goals. Rock stardom is elusive; no standards apply here. It ain’t like baseball, where you bat .300 and go to the Hall Of Fame. It’s a damn crap shoot, where many are called but few are chosen.