So what brings me back for the moment? The news of Maxwell's bar and lounge closing hit me hard tonight. It speaks volumes about the state of the music industry, not to mention the state of the town I have called home for the past four years. Maxwell's was an establishment that drew me to the neighborhood years before I lived here, and one I expected to draw me back for years after I left. The neighborhood has changed, as we all do. But this particular news hits home, literally, in a way that seems... final.
In the four years I've lived in this town, I've seen dozens of shows at Maxwell's. I brought friends in from out of town to attend concerts there, I discovered new artists there, I felt at home there. I would stop in for a beer or a dinner even without a show to attend, as it always had the vibe of the kind of bar I wished Hoboken had more of. There was authenticity, there was excitement, there was live, original music, and there was even decent beer. It may sound funny, but I was always proud of Maxwell's. I would brag to my friends about heading there for shows when Hoboken had become worthy of rolling eyes in other contexts. Call me sentimental, but it seems poetic that the same week that Maxwell's owners announced they will close their doors at the end of July, I, too, have signed my exit slip from the town.
I recently chose to leave Hoboken for the other side of the river, despite loving my spacious, affordable apartment in a quiet, residential part of the town. When I accepted a new job last year that placed me in the thick of Manhattan, I had been anticipating this change of scene. The flavor of the town had grown stale, although the square mile I spent the second half of my twenties falling in and out of love with had taken such a beating in the hurricane that I almost felt guilty saying goodbye. But alas, it was time to cut the cord and move on. I found a new, unpretentious, authentic neighborhood I hope to someday call home, and finally signed a lease last weekend. I have been looking nothing but forward to the new digs and the opportunity to start fresh and foster new connections. The impending closing of my most beloved establishment, though, has really shaken me up. It is fittingly appropriate and heartbreaking all at once. Hoboken, I love you, but things will never be the same.
This isn't a love letter to Maxwell's, it's not a farewell letter to Hoboken, or a criticism of the shift in neighborhood and lack of spirit. It is a thank-you note. I am grateful for all of these things. Our environment shapes who and what we are. It defines us, and I am as much a part of them as they are a part of me. But as I move on to the next chapter in my life, it is sad to reflect upon the end of an era, the loss of an establishment, and a severance to one of the few connections I expected to hold strong.
I had hoped to sneak in one last show at the venue before they closed, but unsurprisingly they have sold out most of their final acts already as news spreads of the club's demise. So, I am left with nothing but nostalgia; great memories sprinkled throughout the latter, better half of my twenties.
Since it seems fitting and I don't expect to be blogging much after this, I'll bite off an old cliche. My all-time top five shows at Maxwell's in chronological order:
Tokyo Police Club
(w/ Vampire Weekend and Ra Ra Riot)
8/11/07
What? What's that you say? It's astonishing that I was at this show. It's astonishing that Vampire Weekend AND Ra Ra Riot opened for Tokyo Police Club (and I had never heard of any of them at the time). This show would be at the Barclay's Center if it were happening in 2013 and not 2007. The value a local music venue rooted in the community brings to the table is immeasurable when you look back on shows like this.
Sondre Lerche
3/6/10
I've written about Sondre before, but this show took place on the evening of Hoboken's St. Patrick's Day Parade. For Hobokenites and their friends, this is a day reserved for the utmost ridiculous debauchery. Within two years, the parade itself would be cancelled and residents like me would flee to Vermont (in 2012) or Brooklyn (in 2013) for the day or the weekend just to avoid the riotous crowds celebrating for no actual reason. I willingly participated in the festivities on the day of the Sondre Lerche show, and probably overindulged before attending. But I remember the show well, and my friends who came along were impressed by Maxwell's and even more by the intimate setting in which they got to see a favorite artist. It was a lovely show with a game entertainer who got the best out of what I might have expected to be a raucous crowd. I was proud of the audience for holding itself together that night, and happy to show off my local haunt on the official holiday of the Mile Square.
The Head and The Heart
2/12/11
A band KEXP had been pushing as the next big thing, who I had only a vague recognition of, blew my fucking mind at this show. They became my (and everyone who came with me that night) favorite new artist for the summer, the soundtrack to two of those attendees' wedding album, and a staple in my love of live music. The Head and the Heart's first show at Maxwell's will be one that I truly never forget for the sheer beauty of the moment of seeing a band who was, at the time, transcendent and unknown and so full of energy and love of music that it was infectious. We sat for dinner at the table next to them that evening, and I knew just barely enough to recognize they were the band we'd come to see. By the end of the week my friends would be reciting their names to me. There are few moments in life that stand out as brightly as that evening.
11/4/12
I'm cheating a bit here. This show was on my schedule for months, and I have seldom enjoyed a concert as much as the last John Vanderslice show I had seen at Mercury Lounge. (He really is one of the best in the business). But on the heels of the most devastating storm to hit the Northeast in a long time, and certainly the storm that rocked Hoboken the hardest in it's own history, this show was scrapped as residents were still returning to flooded homes, ruined cars, and powerless blocks. I spent the evening with roommates and neighbors scraping together a meal out of the few leftovers we could gather after a week of scavenging and a pitiful, barely edible order of chinese takeout from one of the few restaurants that had reopened (the ShopRite would be closed for 4 more months, and the rest of the groceries and bodegas had been emptied out for days). Another trip down memory lane on the night of a show that never happened, and now never will.
Yo La Tengo
12/12/12
(I never realized the date of that show until now. Hmm.) I had heard tell of the Yo La Tengo Hannukah shows for years and never made my way to see them. I was gifted a pair of tickets for my birthday and am grateful to have gotten to experience the hosts of a 7 day concert series steeped in tradition for what we now know was the last time. A bittersweet memory and great band that had roots in Hoboken and at Maxwell's, I'm sure they're reeling from the news this week much more than I am.
Frank Black
2/21/13
Had I known this was the last show I would see at Maxwell's, I would have stayed for the last few minutes (it was a school night!). But the former Pixies mastermind opened with "Wave of Mutilation" and "Where Is My Mind" before diving into a solo set of hits from three decades of genius rock, melodic grunge, and sickly sweet pop, and that is as good a memory as I could have asked for to close out my time at the club.
In the words of Hoboken's prodigal son, "I've loved, I've laughed and cried. I've had my fill, my share of losing. And now as tears subside, I find it all so amusing. To think I did all that... "
Thanks for the good times, Hoboken.
