goodbye yellow brick tote
Do you have one of those places?
You know, where the carpet is sticky and the jukebox a god. It’s the kind of bar I’m guaranteed to meet like-minded music lovers at. Bump into friends. Or just sit in the front bar on my own and smile into the beer while the jukebox wails distorted punk behind me. I want to take a piece of the wall with me. Shout out that this isn’t fair, this is my Chelsea Hotel. This is where home would always be. A smoke in the beer garden, filling notebooks and scraps of paper with details that end up in my stories. BBQ sizzling with a sausage while the band rages on inside. Discovering band after band on a Saturday front bar afternoon. Bruises from dancing in the band room. Saying hi to Iggy every time I head for the Cobra bar staircase. Familiar faces that pull it all together, behind the scenes, you nod, or half-smile, recognising them from gig to gig. Live music in pubs is a pulse that beats on, it gets in your skin and there’s suddenly no place like home – no place like this. The memories and stories we all have about this iconic place will fill books and documentaries there’s no doubt in my mind. Last night was the final goodbye show beginning with ECSR and ending with The Drones (covering God’s My Pal no less at the end of their set). Can you just imagine the in between?
The way it’s ended has left a rotten taste in our mouths, but boy did this weekend taste sweet.
Here’s a place to make sure no more go this way. Petition To save Live Music