Living in coronavirusworld: first visit to Brooklyn in over 5 months

8/27

Live Music, Industry City

After tense conversations, the professional athletes agree to return to their seasons after another two days off (Less for baseball.) In New York City, the Mets and Marlins took the field, stood in silence, hats off, for 42 seconds (Jackie Robinson’s number) then left the field with only a “Black Lives Matter” banner on home plate. This has been an unprecedented demonstration. In the past only something like 9-11 halted games.  These athletes have expressed their frustration as men and women.  And of course, nothing but derision from  the White House and calls for  more law and order. 

Of course much of the Republican convention was in direct violation of the Hatch Act which forbids the mixing  of government and politics, especially it's buildings. With dramatic  displays of flags and use of the White House  as if it were his personal property the President has essentially declared l’etat c’est mois and produced the first fascist convention in history. Still networks seek to cover it as if it were normal. He has even “joked” about “12 more years.”   We hold our collective breath but need to be organizing, 

I’ve learned of a new venue to play live music, though it’s an hour away in Brooklyn.  But I have to check it out.  It’s in a place called “Industry City” a massive complex of factories and warehouses from the early twentieth century when the Gowanus Bay had become an active part fo the shipping industry. Of course fallen into abandonment and neglect as the seventies turned into the eighties. With the toxic waste waters fo the Gowanus Canal blocks away. Between the bay and historic Greenwood Cemetery. Now in a process of rebirth. The Industry City Courtyard 5/6 is an open space ringed by artesenal food and drink businesses. They skirt many bar/restaurant regulations because they are legally agricultural outlets. The food places feature products direct from the farms. There are at least two distilleries crafting their own spirits, a brewery or two making craft beer and an ice cream creator. It doesn’t get any more Brooklyn than that. 

At one end is a stage by a place whose specialty seems to be  infusing everything with fresh ginger. The open mic, which cannot be advertised, because, per regulation music, like alcohol, can only be “incidental,” is a project of a friend of mine from Greenwich Village’s legendary “ Bitter End.”  The Bitter End has been closed since the virus hit and cannot reopen with no space for street music and no food service. It’s the last standing remnant of 1960’s Village.  The mural behind the bar shows many of  its famous performers like Dylan, Joni Mitchell, Linda Ronstadt,Woody Allen. And Bill Cosby, surrounded by recently added jail bars. It is the grail of any singer-songwriter and I had on my bucket list to get an actual paid booking at the Bitter End. I have a sense of pride in having  done that twice, having my first CD release party there and later a birthday gig. Not to mention my Rabbi friend’s high holy day services. The End is in bad shape financially with no visible way out. There’s a go fund me campaign for $100000 under way. My friend is planning a benefit. The prospects of losing the Bitter End are almost unthinkable, yet another covid19 victim. The Bitter End has got the virus, just not yet died.

So my friend has found place in this newly gentrifying corner of Brooklyn. He opens the night. I follow using his “house guitar” which he thoroughly sanitizes before passing it on to me. I put my own “mic condom”on, prepared for safe song. I’ve had a rough reentry into live music at Bar 9 with my weekly near panic attacks. I’ve got 20 minutes here. I choose my material carefully. All “safe” songs. No one here has ever heard them before. I ease into my set, notice someone nodding their head in time. The applause is warm. Someone is recording me. With each affirmation, I open up more. I feel good when I’m done. My friend appreciative I’ve made the long subway journey. As the next performer, an Asian woman with a dark side of indie sound finishes, the rain begins. Time to go back to Manhattan, Harlem, home This was my first trip to Brooklyn in over  months.