It has come to my attention that I don’t write about NYC enough, you know, being a New Yorker and all. No one in particular brought this to my attention. Rather, my introspection just caught me off guard the other day and was like, “Hey Elizabeth, you’ve written enough about Spokane. How about writing about the city in which you dwell (like a rat. Or a roach.)?” Truth be told, sometimes I think that being in NYC is like being in a life-sized blender. I can’t slow down enough here to appreciate anything in view because it’s all a fucking blur. Restaurants, bars, parks, jewelry salesmen on street corners, chess-playing homeless men who’ll teach you a thing or two about making use of a soda can…NYC is famous for its blurry distractions–some of them truly being worth the while of slowing down. It’s like looking at one of those magic eye images when I was in third grade…I know that if I focus in, I’ll make something out of all of the chaos, but more often than not, I get a headache and stop looking for things specifically cool. Luckily, you can throw a rock out your window in NYC and hit something cool. That’s what happens when you cram this many million people on an island that is less than 23 square miles big.
With all of my excuses exhaled from my blame-shifting lungs, there are some spots in NYC, of course, which warrant a mention. The kind of spots you could only hit with a rock from your window if you knew how to aim.
There’s this spot I like to play in NYC called The Delancey. But I don’t just like to play there. It’s fun to hang out there, too. So I don’t mind inviting (pressuring, facebook stalking, tweeting) my friends to come out when I’m playing The Delancey. The Delancey does something with ease many music venues across the country can’t do at all: they mix dirty and posh and hip without compromising any of the above. A metal band could be playing in their basement room, alongside $3 PBRs and classalicious chandeliers, while an acoustic act breaks your buzzed heart upstairs, and a BBQ on the plant-filled rooftop (veggie burgers and all) makes you question how obligatory a $5 suggested donation really is.
Allusively tucked at the foot of the Williamsburg Bridge with pretty serious door guys, The Delancey makes sure that once all party-goers are screened for being 21+, they are never seen again. Yes. That’s right. It’s a dark, dark, dark place. And who would have guessed..I’m into that.
DJs and dancing, free shots with proof of unemployment check, one of my favorite sound guys ever (Marco), 2 for 1 well drink nights, queer extravaganzas, and every other kind of extravaganza too are just part of the reason why I like The Delancey. The main reason, though? Because it’s just far enough out of the annoyingly hip section of the LES that first semester NYU students will be hard to find there. And, for what it’s worth, thank god for that.
By: Elizabeth Seward
(Photos by: Kevin Sender, Gus Lovato)