Long Live Saint Vitus
Recalling the best shows I attended & pinning for the shows I missed
On August 17th, 2024 the Brooklyn heavy metal bar and concert venue Saint Vitus transcended the need for a physical body. Nearly six months earlier to the day the New York Department of Buildings shut the venue down just as a show with the upstart hardcore act Mindforce was getting underway, citing a lack of proper signage about exits, occupancy, and the rest. The closure came as a shock to the heavy music community. Since 2011 Saint Vitus Bar on 1120 Manhattan Ave served as a major artery for live heavy metal and hardcore punk in New York. In addition to the hundreds if not thousands of heavy bands (and more not-so-heavy ones than you’d expect) the venue also hosted a wide range of events outside of live music that fell under the large black umbrella of “alternative” culture. Heavy metal yoga on weekend mornings, industrial and goth dance parties late at night, flea markets, comedy events, and so on. Vitus had a high reputation among the bands that played there and the fans that frequented it. It served as a reliable hang for anyone circling the metal industry and its attendant media appendages. Any time a friend from out of town with a taste for the loud stuff visited, Vitus was always one of the first places suggested as a rendezvous. I liked Saint Vitus a lot and I am going to miss going there.
The official line was that Vitus might, maybe, possibly, hopefully re-open at some point. The unofficial sentiment was that the old spot was cooked. Still, it wouldn’t be right to frame this post as a eulogy. In the immediate aftermath of the shutdown the Vitus team made good on their obligations by rebooking their calendar at other venues across Brooklyn. They remain a presence as “Saint Vitus Presents”, bringing their expert curatorial taste to venues like Brooklyn Monarch, Market Hotel, Elsewhere and beyond. There are rumors of a new location somewhere in the indeterminate future.
I didn’t start going to Vitus until I moved back to New York in 2017. I wasn’t there for Deafheaven, or the Nirvana “reunion” show, or that time that Megadeth’s Dave Mustaine worked the bar. I don’t feel like I was late to the party, but it was definitely in full swing by the time I showed up. My first show at Vitus was a Wovenhand & SubRosa show in late September 2017, about a month after I moved back to the city. I went with Cat Costa-Jones, who was visiting from Portland, and I wrote about the show for Invisible Oranges. Being an editor at IO meant that as long as I sent a polite and timely email I could get into most any show at Vitus that I wanted to see. The expectation was that I would write about the shows, but the SubRosa set ended up being more of the exception than the rule. Instead I used the free tickets as an excuse to spend my money on the equivalent price of band merch and drinks.
Writing for IO is also how I met former editor Doug Moore (Pyrrhon, Scarcity, Glorious Depravity, Weeping Sores) and his partner Caroline Harrison, who’s done album and merch art for more bands than I could name here. These two, and the rest of the Pyrrhon crew, became reliable show-buddies and interlocutors as I found my footing in the NY metal scene. After one sold out Inter Arma show attended by just about every metal writer in the tri-state era, Doug patiently sat through my argument that Inter Arma were overrated. He was just as patient when I saw the light years later. When I finally quit IO in 2018, Doug and Caroline greeted with me a roar of congratulations upon entering Vitus like that scene from Goodfellas where Henry beats his first case. Sometimes these new friendships would unexpectedly crossover with my older Brooklyn circles, like when I took Cat to see my homies in Infinity Shred open for Astronoid. Afterword we debated whether what we’d seen even counted as a metal show over tacos. Cat returned the favor by taking me to an Amigo The Devil concert that left me equally perplexed as Infinity Shred’s cyber-post-rock had left her.
As much as I enjoyed hanging out with Doug, Caroline, Zachary Lipez, Kelsey & Aaron Zimmerman, Cat once she moved to the city, and the other media homies I met, I have just as many fond memories of rolling up and taking in the scene solo. I learned to love the ritual of bolting from my Midtown job, cutting across Long Island City to Greenpoint and taking the long walk from the G train down to the unremarkable black exterior with my eyes peeled for fellow concert-bound heshers. I remember catching Singapore’s Wormrot right after their gear and most of their merch was held up in customs. I’ve never seen a more visibly pissed off grind set. I remember seeing France’s Celeste play to a nearly empty room that they none-the-less filled with smoke punctuated by laser pointers. I remember seeing Converge on their Dusk In Us tour and openly crying in the mosh pit, overcome by how much I loved their music. I arrived late to a The Armed set in their pre-creatine days to find their singers running through the crowd with ring lights. The really tall singer grabbed the PBR right out of my hand and poured it on his head while I grinned like an idiot.
In 2018 Christian Segerstrom hooked me up with a pass to the inaugural Mathcore Index Fest, an all-day-two-day showcase of hyper-technical hardcore bands. This ended up being fortuitous for a few reasons. I got a chance to see and write about rising stars like The Callous Daoboys and See You Space Cowboy way before the rest of the metal media caught on. Despite a few nagging typos, the review I turned in remains one of my best pieces of live music coverage . The fest also introduced me to Emmett Ceglia and Siddhu Anadalingham of Detach The Islands. As soon as Detach The Islands finished their set I knew that I wanted them to play in my band. Both ended up being crucial contributors on my album The Lonely Atom, repeat guests on my podcast, and genuinely good friends to boot.
Part of what makes Vitus’s demise so frustrating is that the venue already survived the near-death of COVID and came out stronger on the other side. Less than 48 hours before New York City locked down Cat and I caught Seattle’s Filth is Eternal and Haunted Horses. Everyone present at the show had the vague sense that this was not a wise way to spend our time. I don’t think rock’n’roll necessarily needs to be dangerous, but it’s hard to deny that the looming threat of plague gave the show some extra juice. Vitus handled the months without live music better than most venues. Caroline Harrison hosted remote interviews with musicians and metal scenesters. The marketing team stepped up their merch game, pivoting the venue into the metal equivalent of a streetware company. If you saw me out on the street in 2020 there’s a good chance I was dressed in a matching Vitus t-shirt and sweatpants. The pause also gave Vitus time to renovate the room, adding an extra hallway for band’s to load in and out of without having to trudge through the crowd. True to form I ran late to the grand re-opening in 2021. I was so excited to get back in that I arrived without my ticket or my proof of vaccination and had to ride the entire length of the G train twice in order to enter. I missed Couch Slut and most of Pyrrhon, but got there just in time to watch Imperial Triumphant.
The metal scene returned as strong as ever, but the plague years had aged me out of the show-going pace I’d kept prior to 2020. Most of my visits doubled as a social outings. I took my buddy Seth Riley from Chicago to see Artificial Brain and Inter Arma, where we briefly chopped it up with Calder Hannan of Metal Music Theory. I treated my friend and Lamniformes collaborator Joey Hurtado (Saint Thrillah, Young Moth) to a millennial-friendly bill of Darkest Hour and Zao that let us relive our MySpace days under far better conditions. I’ve never felt better watching someone else enjoy a show than I did watching Joey mosh to Zao. A Halloween show with Black Sabbath Cover Band Rehearsal turned into an impromptu Invisible Oranges editor reunion when I ran into both Jon Rosenthal and Doug Moore. In hindsight that Halloween show felt like my last real Vitus party. Caroline, dressed as The Mother Of Virtues wordlessly gifted me a plastic cockroach. I met the singer of Couch Slut and had a conversation that felt exactly like listening to a Couch Slut song (complimentary). At the bar Zachary Lipez encouraged me to write more about my life and not just my drumming. I’m still trying to figure out how to do that, Zach, and I still want to take you up on that offer to hang out sometime.
With the doors closed for good, I’m haunted by the memory of two shows that I couldn’t attend. The first was the Sumac & Scarcity bill scheduled on the day after the DOB showed up. I could have made it to the rescheduled show at The Meadows, but I had foolishly double-booked myself for a recording session upstate with Bellows. Since then I’ve seen Scarcity live (they rip) and I’m sure I’ll see Sumac at some point. What truly irks me now is that I never got to play Vitus myself. This is an ugly thought, but I feel like a loser for never getting my shit together to book a show and take part in Vitus’s history as anything other than a spectator. I’ve lived in New York for seven years now and I still feel like more of a hanger-on than a real member of the scene. I worry that I missed my shot at being part of something cool instead of just orbiting it. That’s the way things are with New York though, things change so fast that there’s no chance that you can be a part of everything. If and when Vitus MK II opens its doors, I’ll be ready. I won’t make the same mistake twice.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Listening Diary ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Here are five songs that I enjoyed listening to recently! You can find a Spotify playlist with all of this year’s tracks here, updated with new tunes every Monday-Friday.
“Holy, Holy” by Geordie Greep (The New Sound, 2024)
I was right to call Black Midi sleazy Genesis if this is what Greep gets up to now that he’s solo. Has Geordie been reading this newsletter? How else could this song include all of my favorite stuff? The man is doing Donald Fagan character work over prog-rock-tight grooves with salsa breaks that make good on his praise of Hector Lavoe in The Quietus. I haven’t been this excited about an upcoming debut in years.
“Enforcer” by Leeway (Born to Expire, 1988)
At the last Laughing Stock show I ran into Max, an old friend from high school. The two of us were always on opposite sides of the punk/metalhead divide, but tried our best to find common ground in the thrashier side of hardcore. Despite having not seen each other for years Max continued that tradition by recommending the debut album from Queens’ own Leeway. Max, this shit slaps.
“Vessels” by Philip Glass (Koyaanisqatsi, 1983)
I often go years without listening to Philip Glass. One “gets the idea” pretty quickly with his work. And yet, with the appropriate recovery time away from his music, hearing Glass with fresh ears never fails to leave me profoundly moved. His love of the arpeggio, easily copied and thus easily mocked, has a beautiful way of turning harmony into rhythm. His chords become events that occur across time, rather than static blocks of sound. Crank this and get swept away.
“Frozen” by Guns Up! (Outlive, 2006)
Zach from Laughing Stock and I got stuck in one of those aging hardcore guy “you ever listen to [BAND]?” conversation loops the other day. I recommended The Hope Conspiracy to him, he told me to check out Guns Up!. Hardcore offers many simple pleasures. Sometimes all you need to elevate a song is one bold choice that snaps the audience to attention. Then, sit back and let the natural momentum of the genre do its job. The cymbal chokes in the middle of this one made me hoot involuntarily.
“Battle to the Death” by Nobuo Uematsu (Final Fantasy VI, 1994)
Fight the urge to hear this song’s arrangement as a simulation of real instruments, and instead get a load of how sick the lead line sounds during the first theme. Sounds like he’s doubling it on two different voices and spreading them to the left and right channels. Nobuo Uematsu could get a lot out of those old sound fonts and limited hard drives. Even in the limits of this track’s short loop you can hear traces of ideas that he’d elaborate on into absurdity with “One Winged-Angel”. VI was never my Final Fantasy, armed with a Playstation 2 I favored VII through X, but I wouldn’t argue with the claim that VI featured Uematsu’s best score.
\ \ \ \ \ Micro Reviews / / / / /
Here are five micro reviews from my high school and college collection of burnt CDs. Long time Lamniformes Instagram followers will recognize these from my stories back in 2021, however they’ve been re-edited and spruced up with links so that you can actually hear the music instead of just taking my word for it.
Australasia by Pelican (2003) - Post-Metal
Pelican’s debut. Slower and heavier than the stuff that would come from them later, but still just as pretty and melodically rich as their best stuff. Because of the stripped down production you can tell that these songs sounded absolutely huge in person. One of Pelican’s strengths, especially early on, was capturing the feeling of looking at some vast open space and being floored by it. Of the 00s post metal scene they always stuck me as the most life affirming and positive of the bunch. Good record, even if you’re not a metal fan.
Once More Round The Sun by Mastodon (2014) - Brewer Metal
I got sent a promo copy of this album while writing for Unrecorded. This was the second record after Mastodon ditched the prog and went full hard rock. I did not give it a good review at the time. I mean, it isn’t bad, and there are a few tunes that I’d be happy to see on a Mastodon set list, but this is not the register I prefer the band in. I just don’t think their vocal melodies are able to cash the checks these straightforward tunes are writing.
Still by Nine Inch Nails (2002) - Art Rock
Half “acoustic” version of older Nine Inch Nails tunes, half new (and mostly instrumental) material. As far as I know, this is the last thing Reznor released before getting clean. His voice sounds positively wrecked on this and the vibes are exclusively depressed as hell. The final three tracks are about as sure fire a way to ruin my day as I can conceive. Some of the saddest music I know. But! Also some of Reznor’s best. Impeccable sound design, subtle use of odd time signatures, beautiful motivic development, etc. Not a disc I listen to often, but essential for any serious Nine Inch Nails fan.
Rise of the Great Machine by Supermachiner (2001) - Post Rock
Post rock side project by Jacob Bannon and Kurt Ballou of Converge. They only ever put out this one record, but Wear Your Wounds sorta picked up where it left off about a decade later. It’s fine. A lot of short tracks and sketches but nothing fully formed. There’s one very distressing track with a sample of a woman having what sounds like a panic attack that I’d prefer not to hear again. Nonessential.
Focus by Cynic (1993) - Progressive Metal
Before Cynic had the good sense to reunite, this was just about the coolest record to be hip to on the heavy metal internet of the early 00s. An ahead-of-its-time mix of death metal, jazz fusion, vocoder, eastern philosophy, and prog in a judiciously tight songwriting style. Still holds up! No longer as unique these days since many bands went on to copy this vibe, but the next level songwriting keeps it fresh. I prefer their reunion album, but this baby belongs on any list of essential metal albums.