[FIPS Was There...] Farewell 285 Kent

Photo via greatdesign.com

Is there any thing more Brooklyn than the letters D-I-Y? No, Maynard. There sure ain't. When it comes to the Brooklyn music scene, those three letters represent handfuls of venues that're often all ages & often in the Willyburg/Bushwick area & run independent of the Bowery/Live Nation system that lords over much of the city's concert venues.

Over the past few years, one of the more high-profile DIY Venues has been 285 Kent, a claustrophobic, 350-capacity room that's put on shows without the usual permits & whatnot on the far west side of Williamsburg. The venue, curated by Ric Leichtung (founder of Ad Hoc) and NYC DIY-venue impresario Todd P, hosted a mix of local acts, experimental acts & acts who were probably too big to be playing there. They had no liquor license but there was a bar. There were "No Smoking" signs but if you left not smelling like smoke, something was wrong. Sure you had to breathe the same oxygen as numerous hipster stereotypes, but it was always a good time.

After a September visit from the cops & signs that the venue's days might be numbered, in December, Leichtung revealed that 285 Kent might soon be shutting its doors. Two weeks ago, all the speculation was finally ended, as they announced a lineup of four "Farewell 285 Kent" shows (presented by Pitchfork & Ad Hoc) that would allow them to, as Leichtung told the Village Voice, "end the space on [their] own terms.”

Since I read way too many music blogs during the course of my day, I caught the announcement early and was able to snag a ticket to this past Sunday's final show, featuring a five-act lineup that included three TOTALLY HOT indie bands--White Lung, DIIV and Fucked Up--all for $15.

I arrived at the venue right around 9:30pm, just in time to catch most of the set from the evening's second band, Guardian Alien. Going in, I had no idea who the fuck they were. Turns out that their drummer is Greg Fox, formerly of Liturgy & Village Voice's 2011 "Drummer of the Year" because that's apparently a superlative they give out. Dude's sick on the drums and he & his band pounded out snazzy, electronic-sounding songs that made me think of Hella if they expanded their songs out to ten minutes in length.

Next up was Vancouver's White Lung, a punk band whose first two albums garnered a bunch of acclaim from the music press. Led by vocalist Mish Way, whose onstage antics were like that of a tamer Karen O, the band tore through a thirty-minute set of songs, none of which were any longer than two minutes. It was during their set that I first started to take in the crowd, which was chock-full of wasted twenty-somethings. This led to what became a running game throughout the night, a game that I dubbed "Lena Dunham or Lena Dunham’s haircut?" In short, I'm fairly certain Lena Dunham was only there in spirit.

Just after 11pm, Williamsburg indie rock darlings DIIV took the stage. By this time, the venue had taken on an extremely stifling feel, with little-to-no air circulation save for an occasional burst of air & an ever-present cloud of weed & tobacco permeating throughout the crowd. The four-piece, led by Zachary Cole Smith, rocked the fuck out for a good forty-five minutes. The best way I can describe them is that they're like Interpol if Interpol were a bunch of scraggly-looking Williamsburg hipsters who weren't so damn whiny all the fucking time. They even treated the crowd to a song that they've "literally never played live before." I bet he meant "figuratively."

By the time Toronto's Fucked Up came on around 12:30am, the joint had become packed & I'd had my fair share of drunken, pushy-ass NYU students ambling through the crowd. Still, while I wanted to clock a huge swath of them upside the head, I eventually thought "Fuck it. Fucked Up is on stage & people should be getting wasted & having fun here."

My past experience with Fucked Up was catching the tail end of their set at the 2009 Pitchfork Festival & thinking "who the fuck is this screamy-ass guy?" That guy was Damian Abraham, the hairy, bearded frontman whose on-stage antics usually involve taking off his shirt, stuffing the mic in his mouth & walking through the crowd during the set. By song three, "Queen of Hearts," the shirt was off & I was wondering "did he lose weight?" As he later explained, he had lost weight without even trying. He started smoking weed & the pounds just melted off.

While the set rolled on, the place was amp'd & the front of the stage became one big mosh pit, complete with crowd surfing & Abraham making his way through the crowd. With each crowd surfling that fell onto the stage, between vocals, Abraham would hoist them into a fireman's carry & gently deposit them back into the crowd. Either that or he'd give them a big kiss and/or hug. After an hour, they closed with a cover of The Ramones' "Blitzkreig Bop." OBVS the crowd went NUTS.

...& 285 Kent is no more, but as Damian Abraham said from the stage & Vice's "Why the Closing of 285 Kent Doesn't Matter" noted, it’s OK. DIY venues, with their lack of permits & licenses, are temporary by nature. Another version of 285 Kent will pop up somewhere else under some other name. 285 Kent will still live on in people's memories. For me, that memory will be the final ever Parts & Labor show, held there in February 2012. I went with my brother & a leak somewhere in the building left half of the floor a sludgy mess but the atmosphere was ridiculously festive & infectious, with people dancing & head-bopping & smoking indoors. I had time of my life. Last night was the same thing, sans sludgy mess. I guess that atmosphere was basically what 285 Kent was all about.

Good times.

Read way more from Shawn at eatdrinksnack.com & eatdrinktaco.com.