You often hear the expression "end of an era". Well...This is it. It really is. CBGB's is closing it's doors. After 30 some-odd years, this shrine, this temple of Rock n Roll will exist no more. It makes me sad. It makes me angry.

It was only a matter of time before some greedy, soulless, moneysucking bastards, who have taken the reins of the world with unabashed glee these last few years, would deprive mankind of yet another bit of comfort and joy in the name of the their god, the holy god of quarterly profit.

I remember clearly some of the nights I spent there - first as a young fan, watching mid-70's NY bands like The Shirts; then, as a roadie for a number of local bands opening for the likes of The Ramones, The Cramps, and The Dead Boys; then as an established NY soundman, mixing bands on the incredible sound system designed by Norman Dunn and usually operated by Charlie Martin. I also remember some not-so-clearly. There are undoubtedly other nights I don't remember at all.

I recall the nights I would just hang out, never having to pay a cover because I was part of the incredible and magical NY underground rock scene that existed at that time, as the house soundman at the infamous Mudd Club. Sure, I may not have been a musician in any of the bands. But, what I did was just as important, if not more so. I recall many a night where I made a band sound better than they were. Granted, you can't polish a turd. But, you can make it smell a little better.

But, enough about me. I'm writing about this magical place. This Wonderland. This Oz. This CBGB's. It was an incubator. A petri dish. A Frankenstein's lab, where rock n roll legends were born, hatched, cultivated, and created. It's alive!!!! It's alive!!!

Without CB's, there would be no Ramones. No Talking Heads. No Blondie. Where did the Cars first play when they came down from Boston to NY? CB's. Where did The Police play, when they first came to America? CB's. Where did countless musicians and audience members do lines off the top of a toilet tank? CB's

Who can forget standing outside, cigarette in one hand, beer in the other, talking to your buddies as the bums in the fleabag hotel above the club (I mean homeless gentlemen in the shelter)  would yell down at you, asking for cigarettes and money? And, back then, we didn't go outside to smoke because we had to. We CHOSE to. It was perfectly legal to smoke in bars and nightclubs, something that has only recently changed in NY due to having a candy-assed pussy for mayor. But, I digress.

I cannot talk about that amazing downtown music scene without also mentioning Max's Kansas City, long since closed, and the venerable (and venereal, I might add) Mudd Club which is forever preserved in the amber of rock n roll history by it's inclusion with CBGB's in the Talking Heads song, "Life During Wartime". Those two clubs also possessed a certain magic, and deserve a special mention in the history of NY rock n roll.

There were other rock n roll clubs during that era, some great, some not-so-great: Hurrah, The Ritz, Irving Plaza, Heat, Privates, Danceteria, Peppermint Lounge, The Cat Club, Great Gildersleeve's (only one block over from CB's, yet miles away at the same time), and the aforementioned Max's and Mudd Club.

Thankfully, some still exist: Irving Plaza still has shows, and Webster Hall is in the old Ritz location. It's not as good. But, it's something. The old Roseland Dance Hall, one block over from David Letterman's Ed Sullivan Theater, has been having rock shows for many years now. So, rock is not dead in NY, thank god. (The god of sex and drugs and rock n roll, not the god of profit.)

But, none match the storied history of dearly departed, and soon-to-be sorely missed CBGB's.

Rumor has it that Hilly Krystal, CB's owner, will take CB's to Vegas. Yeah. That might be fun. Seeing all of the physical remnants may bring back memories, stir up long lost emotions. But, it will also be sad. Sad to see this monument to rock n roll history, this incredible landmark of New York City, this major part of my life and memories reduced to a Hard-Rock-Cafe-style theme restaurant where white trash tourists, hard-bodied Angelenos, and Euro-trash hipsters come to gawk at the quaint memorabilia. I'm not so sure I would go.

I wish I would have went to the real CBGB's during my last trip to NY. (I may have videotaped the facade, though. I must go search for the tape. If I have it, I plan to watch it while listening to Blitzkrieg Bop on "11".)