Hopping Club

Lower Manhattan's CBGB is to punk what Liverpool's Cavern was to the Mersey beat—birthplace of a local scene that became a global sound. Its graffiti'd bathroom walls are the Lascaux murals of punk's first and last gasps. Founded by Hilly Kristal, CBGB has been afloat with leather flotsam since December 1973, first as a bikers' bar, then as a punk passion pit. Blood has been shed, bones and glass broken, fashion crimes committed. Fresh bruises are created anew through thrashfests featuring hard-core bands and their slam-dance fans. Yet today the club is more of a stir-fry cooker than a caldron, and the mood has become commemorative. A history of CBGB called This Ain't No Disco has been published by Faber and Faber, and a film history has been projected. And Hilly will no doubt whip together a wingding this month for the club's fifteenth anniversary. Should CBGB ever close (erase the thought!), it should be removed floorboard by beer-warped floorboard and reconstructed at the Smithsonian. Punk's log cabin, punk's fiery cave, must be preserved.

J.W.