Once upon a time, had I been a youth…or even young adult…in Berkeley, the 924 Gilman would have been a regular weekend hangout for me. At the time, I like to “think” that there was a little punk rocker in me. I think those that were really “punk” could smell me a mile away and saw poser slapped across my forehead. Whatever they thought…I liked the music. That’s just what the Gilman is about, all ages, all walks of life liking coming together for the music.
In my 16 years in the Bay Area I had never ventured out to catch a show so when the opportunity came, I went. The doors were to have opened at 7:30pm. Just after 6pm, crowds gathered around the corner building. Kids in patched black denim, black tee-shirted gamers, waifish young girls and drugstore dyed hair and all sizes and shapes with tattoos and facial piercings.
We were going to see an older punk rocker known as John the Baker. I won’t even repeat the name of his band. As seems the trend with many underground style bands…using vulgar a word in your band title is…apropos.
Once inside it was quite a side show. I think my partner in crime and I were the only two not in black…and likely two of the oldest in attendance. Nonetheless, I enjoyed people watching, I enjoyed watching the performance and I enjoyed the trip back into memory lane. We left after John’s 20 minute set. Best to leave the kids to make their own memories.