Music Venues vs. Community Gardens

I wrote this blog post on August 17, 2015, when I was in Colorado, at a cafe with no Internet. I fully intended to post it as soon as there was Internet again, but then I had to eat a donut or something. I forget. Anyway, I'm going to post it now because no one should let a blog post go to waste just because they should have posted it a really long time ago.

This weekend I was dismayed to learn of yet another community garden in New York (predominately with lower class/minority gardeners) that the city plowed over for Development. This is, of course, outrageous!

In its place, the developers will build...a music venue, a large outdoor amphitheater to be exact, which theoretically I may one day have occasion to attend. This makes me feel...uncomfortable. I love outdoor urban space, and obviously have grown to have an affinity for community gardens in particular. And I love concerts. And I don't know which of the two I love more, but they are both really important to me, and so I do not like the idea of one displacing the other, like at all.

Just three days ago, I attended a My Morning Jacket concert at the Red Rocks Amphitheater. I searched for amazing concerts in the Denver area during my trip, and I had heard of them, so I bought tickets. The concert (including the opening act Sylvan Esso) was truly a magical experience; I have never before felt that bands were so well matched to their venue. The pictures on my iPhone don't even begin to convey how beautiful it was to be perched above the entire Denver metro area, with acoustics so perfect that I genuinely felt like the whole world reverberated with psychedelic rock.

At first, I secretly judged the people next to me who brought cushions to sit on. This is a rock show! We are supposed to stand for hours on end! The fact that we can sit at all is entirely luxurious! Cushions are for wimps. About halfway through the set, I realized the error of my thought. I listen to psychedelic rock in the bathtub for a reason, because it is relaxing. In the sixties, when everyone was stoned out of their minds at the Fillmore, people sat on the floor, on cushions. Although I typically like to make a point of standing through entire sets (because I do not want the day to ever come that I'm too tired to stand through a rock show), I realized, this is stupid. My legs are tired. I can sit; I can close my eyes; I can meditate. I should pretend, even among the majestic beauty, that I'm in my bathtub. And so I did, and it was wonderful. I took off my shoes; I swayed around; I inhaled deeply the fresh mountain air. And by that, I mean a whole lot of second hand marijuana. But still. It was a truly blissful experience.

Nevertheless, as I was sitting between the perfect acoustically arranged natural formations on either side of me, I couldn't help thinking about the fact that, in a way, it's a shame that humans came along and put parking lots and porta potties and a big old music venue over the formerly untouched splendid glory of the place. But I justified it too. I thought, well, Colorado has plenty of natural areas left for activities like hiking. And music is fundamentally one of the greatest parts of being alive. Additionally, this spot is genuinely unique in the country, if not the world, and so, I'm okay with this. (I hope no one died building it. I didn't get a chance to go to the museum, where presumably they would memorialize such a person.) Ultimately, I came down to the conclusion that building this amphitheater was justified, and that I’m happy they did it. And during the day, when concerts are not happening, anyone can come to the amphitheater and check out the views, for free. This space, I concluded, is Good Development.

I therefore completely understand the appeal of building a music venue along the Coney Island boardwalk, which will overlook the Atlantic Ocean. However, it SUCKS that they removed a garden to do it. They bulldozed it three days after Christmas, without informing the community, and already began construction without a formal hearing, which is, in a nutshell, illegal. New York already has Jones Beach on Long Island. Furthermore, music venues are actually notoriously difficult to keep open. This is why CBGB, arguably the greatest punk venue ever, (which happens to be located in the East Village, which happens to have the highest density of community gardens in the United States), is now a clothing store for rich men. Basically, every single time I hear about New York City and its development decisions, I feel depressed and frustrated. I also periodically have identity crises because I know perfectly well that I like and benefit from urban development aimed at the creative class. I like expensive coffee, donuts, cupcakes, salads, wine, and cocktails.

And I love music. Visiting new venues and seeing new spaces is half the fun. In fact, I have been known to pick concerts based on the venue, not the band. (Hint: if you are a band I like a medium amount, your chances of me showing up increase exponentially if you play anywhere besides House of Blues. I have nothing in particular against House of Blues; I’ve just been there so many times.) Nevertheless, I spend in the range of $1,000 to $2,000 a year to see live music, to have access to these entirely privatized spaces, which is obviously a massive luxury. The kicker is that both the musicians and the venue owner, at least the small ones, make hardly any money. (An obvious exception would be my little birthday party with Foo Fighters at Fenway Park. I have no doubt that both Dave Grohl and the Red Sox made out just fine from that.) In fact, perhaps this inequity in the distribution of funds is why the idea of building a massive amphitheater is actually so distressing. Furthermore, everyone knows the best places to listen to music are the tiny clubs, and big amphitheaters/stadiums are just a necessary evil once in a while.

Building over open space to build huge, impersonal spaces which are so clearly aimed at turning a profit, is so popular, and yet, so frustrating. This situation is basically the same as when New York took over continuous parkland in the Bronx to expand Yankee Stadium (giving me additional ammunition in my lifelong Yankees disdain).

Basically, I don’t need to turn community garden space into a concert venue. The gardeners need that space for their community, to grow food, and so that everyone can look at the Atlantic Ocean, not just some elite ticket holders.