We weep when any venue which affords a stage to performers goes dark.
This deceptively humble setting, however, was a venerable non-stop circus of poets, crooners, rockers, bikers, folkies, freaks, attention seekers, winners, losers, jazzers, avant-garde ‘aven’t got a clue artistes, flakes, floozies, boozers, bohemians, loners, bon vivants, rappers, painters, pouters, shouters, raconteurs, and writers of every conceivable genre and permutations thereof – among others – who celebrated the fringe – and perhaps not realizing that they too were a part of the show! It was my de facto Huff Post hub, and the site of scores of interviews ranging from Vh-1 to Amplifier Mag, Shout New York, Pop Smear, Spin, No Depression, and its ilk.
Aside from the gigs, my most treasured wee hours of the morning memory here was in April ’97 dining next to the Spice Girls, still in uniform and at the apex of their fame following an Saturday Night Live appearance. No one fawned over them other than their waitress, who was decidedly non-plussed! New York City is a much, much poorer metropolis with its absence.
Godspeed Side WalkCafé!