The Crier

Where Have All the Venues Gone?

In its heyday, Ann Arbor was host to healthy stock of premier venues. What happened?

Lloyd Cargo · Amused · Feb 12, 2007

There’s a dusty lot on the corner of First and Huron that’s been vacant for nearly fifteen years. It’s a piece of prime real estate, and its non-use is puzzling — especially considering that Fifth Dimension, the bowling alley-turned-Rich-Ahern (of Arbor Vitae fame)-designed concert venue it housed, was one of Ann Arbor’s most happening venues in the sixties. Wazoo Records owner and long-time Ann Arbor resident John Kerr recalls visits from a relatively unknown force named Jimi Hendrix and a still-burgeoning Who circa 1966.

So what happened? It was converted into a restaurant, The Whiffle Tree, and burned down. Many of Ann Arbor’s other marquee venues suffered a similar fate. They just weren’t profitable enough to stay competitive with restaurants and boutique shops in such a high-rent district.

“It was the best punk show I ever saw,” Lovick recalls. “The crowd was behaving as they thought a punk crowd ought to, spitting and throwing bottles of beer at the band.”

The spot now occupied by the Necto used to be a crucial tour stop for nearly every top New Wave and punk group that came through the Midwest in the late ’70s and early ’80s. Originally dubbed Chances Are then re-opened as Second Chance, the space was radically different from the sweaty tramp spot it became. A balcony looked down on the stage and gave the room a uniquely intimate feel, despite its significant capacity. The crowd would be literally on top of the band, an effect that provided long-time Schoolkids Records/Wazoo employee Will Lovick with memorable concert experiences from The Ramones, The Slits, The Specials, X, King Crimson, Gang of Four, Iggy Pop, and his favorite: the Dead Boys.

“It was the best punk show I ever saw,” he recalls. “The crowd was behaving as they thought a punk crowd ought to, spitting and throwing bottles of beer at the band. After three or five songs a glass pitcher shattered behind the drummer’s head. Immediately, he leapt up to kick the guy’s ass, but the bouncers quickly broke it up. That was it, the band was done. The whole experience was very punk — brief and violent.”

Even more tantalizing are Lovick and Kerr’s memories of Joe’s Star Lounge, formerly located on Main Street between Huron and Ann and owned by WEMU radio personality Joe Taboni. “I saw R.E.M. on their Chronic Town EP tour, The Replacements, Eugene Chadbourne and The DB’s amongst many others before it closed,” Lovick said.

There’s no place like this left in Ann Arbor.

Would Iggy have kept the Stooges here, or would have the MC5 picked Tree Town as their home base with the current crop of venues?

Sure we have the Blind Pig, which holds a virtual monopoly on bands not big enough to play the Michigan Theater, and whose booking demands have allegedly scared off multiple promoters. But outside of them and house parties, where are up and coming bands supposed to play? The Ark is sterilized and its crowds are middle-aged. The occasional live music at bars like Touchdown’s is lacking to say the least.

Ann Arbor’s music scene seems to be thriving despite the paucity of local outlets, but would Iggy have kept the Stooges here, or would have the MC5 picked Tree Town as their home base with the current crop of venues?

Kerr blames rent, and the nature of concert venues. “When you have to make all of your money between 8 P.M. and 2 A.M. it’s hard to keep up. Why aren’t we as good as Austin, Texas? Austin is sprawling with dives and low-rent districts. In Ann Arbor, the downtown is compact — dense and high rent.”

It’s not the worst state of affairs by any means. But at the current rate, you have to wonder: How long will it be before Ann Arbor turns into one giant food court?