CROCODILE TEARS
I think I'm going to vomit.
This may come off completed overdramatic, but I'm sincerely sad about some news that I got tonight. I just got home from work a half hour ago, opened my email and saw one from my friend Chad (God of this blog) about the Crocodile Cafe closing. What??? I felt the bile rise. I clicked on the link and sat with my jaw hanging as I read about my favorite music venue in Seattle, closing its doors with no notice this week.
http://seattlepi.nwsource.com/pop/343960_crocodile18.html
Instantly, my mind raced for what friend back home would answer their phone at work with the three-hour time difference. Tony! I'll call Tony! He will understand my pain! I call and leave him a voicemail. He calls right back.
"TONY!!! The Croc is gone! The Croc is gone!"
Now, this may sound like no big whoop, but this is a huge deal to me. I know it will be a big deal to many of my friends back home as well. This was the hub of the Seattle music scene for many, many years (at least one of the ones that stayed). This was where my love of music progressed and where I was exposed to so many new bands. It was where I saw a lot of big name acts before they became big names. I turned 21 in the early era of grunge and was blessed to see some amazing shows there that I will never forget. For anyone whose life was ensconced in music in Seattle, you understand.
The club opened in 1991, and was one of the first places I went when I turned 21 two years later. The first show I remember seeing there was Beck. It was before he got big and some coworkers and I went to see him. I'd heard his music through my coworker's husband and was blown away by it. The crowd was tiny, the room dark, the stage empty minus a chair. There we stood watching a young Beck, hair mocking Kurt Cobain in his face, sing while he strummed his guitar. It was an amazing show. Everyone stood mesmerized. Then he played his last song (Loser). He brought out a tape player and played the song and just danced around the stage lip-synching. We were ticked at this and left. I look back at it and laugh, but we were quite irritated to have such a stunning show, only to end it with a pre-Britney Spears maneuver.
Over the next thirteen years it was where I KNEW I would always feel something intense. The amazing shows (and an amazing sound guy) always brought something out in me, whether it be extreme happiness from the lilting music, as I danced in my place and sang along at the top of my lungs with my friends; or aggression as we moshed in front of the stage in the grunge days; or just sheer beauty and sadness, as your soul felt connected to the haunting voice up on stage. It always made you...feel. There was NEVER a really bad show. Okay, so maybe a few. I guess I should say there was never a bad night. Even if you weren't into the music, you'd go hide out in the bar at the back of the club and laugh with your friends over drinks.
The best nights were when you accidentally stumbled upon an opening band, or I finally "checked out this new band" that Tony, Jason or Brendan would recommend to me. I can't even begin to list all the amazing shows I experienced in the 13 years I got out of that place before permanently leaving Seattle. Even through the six months I was gone in ‘96 and the three years I was away in the early '00's, it was one of the few music venues that hadn't either been turned into condos (Rkcndy) or changed ownership and names numerous times (The Mo). It was the one constant for great music.
I feel like a huge chunk of my adult life was spent at the Crocodile. It was where new friendships sometimes started, current friendships grew, and flirtations...even love blossomed. So many birthdays and milestones were celebrated here. Sorrowful nights were spent slumped over a beer, crying, only to be livened up once the show started and the music made you forget the pain. This was where we would all go to support our friends' bands, and then celebrate a great show.
And I think something else that gets to me so much is that this is where I spent a lot of time with my last great love. The band he was in often played there, and I spent many, many nights making out with him in a booth, eating hummus and hanging out with the other band guys and their girlfriends. It obviously didn't make the relationship, but it housed a lot of memories from a time when I knew great love, passion, and later great frustrations. It was a backdrop to the kind of love I'd always wanted and finally had...at least for a time before things went sour. And no, I'm not pining for him. It was just a place that reminds me of happier times, and I hope that I will again have that (but lasting) someday.
As I sit here recounting the hundreds of memories had in this now defunct club, I find myself wistfully smiling. It was a part of a good chunk of my life - good, bad and ugly. I'll miss the music, the screaming along to songs, and the hugs goodnight, as we'd shuffle to our cars. And it was one of the few times I finally got that soundtrack to life I've always wanted.
R.I.P. Crocodile
*The only picture I can find in my drawer of pictures, of a night at the Crocodile. The ex has been blacked out to protect his identity. ;0)
This may come off completed overdramatic, but I'm sincerely sad about some news that I got tonight. I just got home from work a half hour ago, opened my email and saw one from my friend Chad (God of this blog) about the Crocodile Cafe closing. What??? I felt the bile rise. I clicked on the link and sat with my jaw hanging as I read about my favorite music venue in Seattle, closing its doors with no notice this week.
http://seattlepi.nwsource.com/pop/343960_crocodile18.html
Instantly, my mind raced for what friend back home would answer their phone at work with the three-hour time difference. Tony! I'll call Tony! He will understand my pain! I call and leave him a voicemail. He calls right back.
"TONY!!! The Croc is gone! The Croc is gone!"
Now, this may sound like no big whoop, but this is a huge deal to me. I know it will be a big deal to many of my friends back home as well. This was the hub of the Seattle music scene for many, many years (at least one of the ones that stayed). This was where my love of music progressed and where I was exposed to so many new bands. It was where I saw a lot of big name acts before they became big names. I turned 21 in the early era of grunge and was blessed to see some amazing shows there that I will never forget. For anyone whose life was ensconced in music in Seattle, you understand.
The club opened in 1991, and was one of the first places I went when I turned 21 two years later. The first show I remember seeing there was Beck. It was before he got big and some coworkers and I went to see him. I'd heard his music through my coworker's husband and was blown away by it. The crowd was tiny, the room dark, the stage empty minus a chair. There we stood watching a young Beck, hair mocking Kurt Cobain in his face, sing while he strummed his guitar. It was an amazing show. Everyone stood mesmerized. Then he played his last song (Loser). He brought out a tape player and played the song and just danced around the stage lip-synching. We were ticked at this and left. I look back at it and laugh, but we were quite irritated to have such a stunning show, only to end it with a pre-Britney Spears maneuver.
Over the next thirteen years it was where I KNEW I would always feel something intense. The amazing shows (and an amazing sound guy) always brought something out in me, whether it be extreme happiness from the lilting music, as I danced in my place and sang along at the top of my lungs with my friends; or aggression as we moshed in front of the stage in the grunge days; or just sheer beauty and sadness, as your soul felt connected to the haunting voice up on stage. It always made you...feel. There was NEVER a really bad show. Okay, so maybe a few. I guess I should say there was never a bad night. Even if you weren't into the music, you'd go hide out in the bar at the back of the club and laugh with your friends over drinks.
The best nights were when you accidentally stumbled upon an opening band, or I finally "checked out this new band" that Tony, Jason or Brendan would recommend to me. I can't even begin to list all the amazing shows I experienced in the 13 years I got out of that place before permanently leaving Seattle. Even through the six months I was gone in ‘96 and the three years I was away in the early '00's, it was one of the few music venues that hadn't either been turned into condos (Rkcndy) or changed ownership and names numerous times (The Mo). It was the one constant for great music.
I feel like a huge chunk of my adult life was spent at the Crocodile. It was where new friendships sometimes started, current friendships grew, and flirtations...even love blossomed. So many birthdays and milestones were celebrated here. Sorrowful nights were spent slumped over a beer, crying, only to be livened up once the show started and the music made you forget the pain. This was where we would all go to support our friends' bands, and then celebrate a great show.
And I think something else that gets to me so much is that this is where I spent a lot of time with my last great love. The band he was in often played there, and I spent many, many nights making out with him in a booth, eating hummus and hanging out with the other band guys and their girlfriends. It obviously didn't make the relationship, but it housed a lot of memories from a time when I knew great love, passion, and later great frustrations. It was a backdrop to the kind of love I'd always wanted and finally had...at least for a time before things went sour. And no, I'm not pining for him. It was just a place that reminds me of happier times, and I hope that I will again have that (but lasting) someday.
As I sit here recounting the hundreds of memories had in this now defunct club, I find myself wistfully smiling. It was a part of a good chunk of my life - good, bad and ugly. I'll miss the music, the screaming along to songs, and the hugs goodnight, as we'd shuffle to our cars. And it was one of the few times I finally got that soundtrack to life I've always wanted.
R.I.P. Crocodile
*The only picture I can find in my drawer of pictures, of a night at the Crocodile. The ex has been blacked out to protect his identity. ;0)
