I should have punched that girl afterall

Rumors are/news is flying all over town about the historic Crocodile Cafe being shut down. Bloggers and commenters are telling anecdotes of how good the Crocodile was to Seattle and our (apparently dying) music community. (I say "apparently dying" because I've read some things about a great indie rocker exodus to Portland where venues are plenty, rent is cheap and attitude is proportionate to population.)

The first show I saw when I moved to Seattle from Montana, starry-eyed and awe-struck by the big city, was at the Crocodile in September of 2002. A guy I was playing music with at the time told me I had to see this chick singer he was really into. The band was Ms. Led. Now, this is weird - the only time H Is for Hellgate got to play at the Crocodile was a couple weeks ago, December 5th. We were invited to play the show by our friends...Ms. Led. If that's not some full-circle shit for you, I don't know what is.

What was also remarkable about the show was how I almost punched someone for the second time in the life of H Is for Hellgate. The first time involved a self-proclaimed Wiccan High Priestess antagonizing people at a party at my house about unicorns being real. Anyway, the sound guy at the Crocodile, Jim, is very well known for being very nice, and that he was. Very nice. We had some short conversations about gross microphones, Fender Deville amps and the intercom system that ran from the house sound board in the back of the venue to the monitor board in the front. However, there was an intern working the monitor board (the mixer that lets the people on stage hear what they're playing and singing) and it was her first night working with sound equipment.

Long story kind of short - because of her inexperience, your patient rockers at H Is for Hellgate put up with a crescendoing mid-range feedback until it built to the point where, I, avid musician and rock show attendee, experienced aural pain for the first time ever. Being a person who needs hearing in order to engage in their life's passion, this made me upset. I thought perhaps I should stop playing and let the young lady know what she (wasn't) doing, perhaps with my fist, but then I had a moment of clarity where the angel on my shoulder reminded me that I shouldn't burn bridges. Or hit people.

I don't know that I would reeeeeaaaaallly hit a person, but I was mad.

There are my most prominent Crocodile memories. I'm sure all of us Seattlites could talk about things like seeing Quasi from 2 feet away or staying until 11:30 on a Tuesday night to see a friend's band. But really, we're going to be fine. When Missoula, Montana lost Jay's Upstairs, the ONLY 18+ live music venue that would host indie bands, THAT was a goddamned crisis.