Hi folks. My name is Erik. Most of you probably know me as Spicoli. Unfortunately, that isn't my real name. My parents didn't name me after a character from Fast Times, as awesome as that probably would have been. For the last eight years I've been serving you PBR's, kicking you out for stage diving, and most likely bitching if you didn't show up for load-in, among other things. So here we are. The Mohawk is closing. Locking the doors. Serving its last PBR. Having its last band play the stage.  

Fourteen years ago, 19 year old me took a job at Media Play working in the music dept. I started that day thinking I "knew" about music. I mean hell, I owned Pearl Jam records and liked The Get Up Kids. I was cutting edge. I met a person there, now a great friend, that would change the way my life played out forever -- my buddy Brad. The Sollyman, if you are in the know, is this crazy-hyper dude who reads from the Bible of Brian Wilson. He talked of the real "boss," taught me that yeah, there really was a band called The Band.  That "The 'Mats" doesn't mean place mats, and that the only band that matters is The Clash. One random night, I couldn't recall to you the actual time of year (that stuff all blends in after decades of booze and loud tunes), he took me to Mohawk. I was nineteen, and at that time it was 21 plus. I figured for sure I wasn't getting in. If you saw me when I was nineteen, you probably wouldn't let me on the Viper. But there I was, wedged between Brad and a future band mate of mine, Sean. I walked up, no ID in hand. Just my crappy semi-beard (which is still shitty) and a hope. I think it was one of those Girlpope/Bobo shows that are stuff of legend round these parts, but I cant be sure. I was greeted at the door by this grey haired, mustached gentleman. I don't need to say his name. You know who he is, and he carries a presence around that place that can still be felt today. I got in. Come to find out it's not that legendary to get in that young, and I did. Game over. From the pool table in the back, to the smoky haze, to the cool as fuck bartenders, the place was instantly legendary.

I can't recall the bands that night. I remember a few beers, a few smokes, and that is basically it. It was enough though, to keep coming and coming back. Slowly but surely I gained the balls to order a beer. Then to sit at the corner in hopes I could butt-in to some conversation I had no business being in. Eventually Brad started a band, Semi-tough, named after the movie. I came to meet Donny (now owner of the Town Ballroom and an all-around good dude) through that band. It's a tad hazy, but I'm pretty sure I met him for the first time during a Left of the Dial DJ night. He will probably say I'm wrong, but at this point, who cares. On one of those fateful nights my life was changed forever. Another lifelong friendship was beginning, and a band that means more to me than the world was playing -- Grand Champeen. You probably don't know them, and that's fine. Not many in the end do, but that's the beauty of Mohawk. Having some random band from Austin, TX tell me to break my records and quit is still one of the best life lessons I've ever had.

Years started to go by. Many great shows seen, many great friends made. Hell, even Jimmer.  Beers were drank and then "Hey Spicoli, wanna bartend?" happened.  I didn't know shit about bar tending. Most of who I work with now call me the worst bartender in Buffalo. I took it of course, cause who is that fucking stupid?  It's Mohawk.  It's bartending.  It's free shows. Even better, it's free booze. So here I am, years later (eight to be exact, and 14 if you count the years I've been "hanging" there), and now I have to say goodbye. So thank you, all of you. From my door guy/right hand man Nick O'Brien, who really likes GBV (fucker needs more tunes on his iPod), to Renee, the longest reigning sound tech this club has had. To Neal who made that room sound as world class as a place with dicks drawn everywhere could sound, to you. Yes, you. When the doors close and the lights burn out, it was you that made that place special. It's always been more than a building; the people are the ones who supplied the memories. So in the end, when it's all gone, that's what we have, memories from people that are now OUR best friends and music from OUR favorite bands. So to the 19 year old me out there, I wish you the same 14 years I had: filled with best friends, legendary shows, new favorite bands, and rough mornings. You deserve it, and hopefully you'll find it.

Thanks.

P.S. I probably always thought your band sucked.

It was either May or June, I am not entirely sure, but I remember that it was warm enough to hop on my bike and ride with some friends downtown. We were not really sure what we were going to do that night but we figured there was enough going on that we could figure something out and put together an evening. They were having a dance party at Mohawk so we stopped there but did not want to pay the cover. We rode a little ways and bought 40's. Riding back, we went up to the top of the parking garage and watched the people mill in and out of the dance party, goofing off with some street chalk one of us had come across that day. The sky was clear that night. My friend and I raced down the ramp and I remember that as being some of the most fun I had ever had up until that point. I couldn't tell you why.

I have hundreds of Mohawk Place-related memories.  I've sold hundreds of tickets to shows that I have played there.  I've probably spent hundreds of dollars buying tickets to shows being held there.  I've been in and around it since I was 16 years old (that's roughly seven years, if you're interested).  I could sit here and tell you that my favorite memory of Mohawk Place was opening up for a sweet band or seeing either of the Buckley brothers (of Every Time I Die fame) play there for the last time ever, but the story I have chosen is a bit more humorous.  At least to me.

Way back when, I was in an "indie-pop" band...  That's at least what we called it to avoid embarrassment in those days.  We were trudging along in the local Buffalo "indie-pop" circuit which consisted of about ten bands, all of which fought hard to pick up good shows and new fans.  It didn't really matter how hard our piano player could shred, or how some of our vocal parts went all the way up to a high C# (I know, very impressive) - nobody seemed to really care about us that much.  But that's neither here nor there...  Well, okay, maybe it's still here.  But we had some good songs and we were at least decent musicians, AND we were selling 50+ tickets to our shows.  That was good enough for me.

Anyways, after a few years of opening up for other awful local bands and getting the short end of the stick (an ill-fated broken promise of $1,000 to play a bunch of classic rock covers at a birthday party had a lot to do with it), we decided to take some time off.  We figured, what the hell, maybe our "indie-pop" phase had finally run it's course.  Amazingly enough, once we decided to hang up the towel, a bone finally got thrown our way.  We were given the opening slot on a LIGHTS show.  Yes, this is the same LIGHTS that played the Harbor this year (what I am trying to say is that I am a big deal).  Needless to say, the four of us were starstruck, not only because there were going to be people who actually wanted to come see a show that we were playing, but also because LIGHTS is the epitome of every not-quite-out-of-college, not-quite-twenty-something, hey-girlz-I'm-totally-a-nerd-lol, guy's fantasy.  That's a pretty good description of the four dudes who made up my band at the time.  It's still a good description of us actually.  So we dusted off our instruments, threw together a set, and crossed our fingers that LIGHTS was going to think we were cool.

So there we are the day of the show.  One of my bandmates decided to get pretty drunk before we played.  Me, being an underage anxious ball of nerves, started freaking out when he was nowhere to be found with five minutes to our set.  Regardless, in his usual fashion, he wanders into Mohawk Place just in time, gets in front of his piano, and whips out an ungodly keyboard riff (they do, in fact, exist).  It was a fun show, even though we knowingly went into it knowing it would probably be our last.  We even snuck some LIGHTS lyrics into one of our songs hoping she would notice...  We tried to say hello to her from the stage, but she wasn't even in the venue.  We found out later she was playing World of Warcraft...  how could we blame her?

So our keyboardist got off the hook for being drunk and not showing up until the very last second...  But whatever, it was a fun show.  At that point, we were still promoting our latest release, a 7-song EP we called Pineapple Music; so after the other bands came and went and LIGHTS put on a long set of swirly, synthy pop music, our still-tipsy keyboardist decided to approach her with our CD and ask her what she thought.  He also thought it would be a great idea to give her his number, so she could call him on the phone with her thoughts.  I will admit, she was very nice and they had a decent conversation - which included a hug from her and an apology for missing our set.  It was only on our ride home that my bandmate, now starting to sober up, came to the horrible realization that he gave his best friend's number to LIGHTS instead of his own.

In case you're wondering, no, she never called his best friend.  None of us ever talked to or saw her in person again after that day.  But the look on my bandmate's face when he realized he gave the archetypal "girl of his dreams" his best friend's number instead of his own is priceless.  It's a memory I'll always cherish.

So thank you Mohawk Place for offering me something to always hold over my friend's head - I'll never let him live it down.

 

Fucking brutal.  The two words I think best sum up the impending doom of the Mohawk Place are "fucking brutal," and for so many reasons:  for what it will to the Buffalo music scene (especially metal), for serious injuries I've seen people receive, or even since the announcement precedes the impending Ragnarök.

The loss of Mohawk Place slashes an important sized venue from Buffalo's belt; it is one of those smaller venues that can book bigger than they actually are because there is a chance it will sell out.  Mohawk is one of those venues that can accommodate both national and local headlining shows, and depending on the bands and the night, the local band could still be the bigger draw.  But, in the process, Mohawk has seen incredible amounts of talent, has stayed true to itself, and became one of the best places to ever see a show in Buffalo.

I wish I could be that guy that could say "I saw the White Stripes at Mohawk in blah blah blah..." but I'm not.  I have seen tons of shows, but none were necessarily "that show you had to be at".  In fact, I dare say part of the reason I love Mohawk is the innumerable amount of shows I missed (like the Torche & Big Business show a few years ago, the Damned Things super group that had Scott Ian, or the aforementioned White Stripes show).

I have been no stranger to seeing small to medium sized metal, hardcore, or punk shows at Mohawk.  I boast a number of Mohawk mosh pit battle scars, and the no-frills concrete was not forgiving if you happened to not be paying attention during the wrong shows.  I've seen people lose or chip teeth, a number of fractures and concussions, and enough blood to freak out the Countess from Once Bitten.  Fact of the matter is people are going to mosh, one way or another.  Mohawk gave those big soft moshing masochists a way to have their cake and eat it too; you take your chances.

For me, when I think of Mohawk though, I think of two shows in particular.  The first was the last show I saw there before I moved to Atlanta (where I edit buffaBLOG's sister blog, Hiplanta...*shameless plug*); OFF!'s first show in Buffalo as a band.  For those who don't know, OFF! is fronted by former Black Flag / Circle Jerks frontman Keith Morris.  Seeing a guy like that perform, and seeing the difference between the senseless nonsense that happen before OFF!, and OFF! themselves (and being a man in his late 20's who is way too old to get his head kicked in every weekend), I got to see a bit of a juxtaposition of myself as a youth and me as a growing adult (I hope so anyway) alongside Keith regaling the audience with stories of punk rock past.

...and the other one is the first (and possibly the last) show I have been with buffaBLOG co-founder, Billiam Wright.  We went to see Califone (indy rockers from Chicago), which wasn't in and of itself at all bad, but the real "prize pig" was the band that opened for them.  I can't remember their name, and refuse to look them up on this "Google" everyone is talking about, but nonetheless, two of the four members wore bridal gowns gowns, and the others dressed as normal as possibly could be.  In the set closer, the singer offered everyone in the audience some cocaine, and then made some menacing comments about suicide.  I remember talking to him outside (well you have to talk to that guy), and kind of consoled him about playing a bad show.  I remember him being little like Kurt Cobain, you know, if he weren't weighed down with all that creativity and talent.  But that is part of Mohawk's charm; the "so close you can touch them" environment for a show.

Mohawk has cemented it's place in Buffalo's musical history, and now joins the Continental, Club Diablo, and the soon to be reopened Showplace Theater as casualties in the war on small venues (even though the Showplace is coming back, it was still long dead before that happened).  Like it's cohorts in that category, Mohawk will definitely be remembered as a mainstay in the personal evolution of everyone that has seen a show there.  It will be missed.

My favorite memory of the Mohawk Place shimmers in my memory as if it was surrounded by a low level field of electricity, charged up and glowing, and it's the one that I'm going to hold onto for as long as I've got my marbles. The Twin Shadow show on May 1st of last year was utterly transcendent. Ok yes it's true that I've forgotten all about the two opening acts, but that's because everything else that happened that night was bonkers, as the "YOU ARE THERE!" feeling one gets at an Earth shaking indie show collided with Earth shaking news from the world outside Mohawk Street, with the Earth shaking indie show winning out.

One of my favorite parts about the Mohawk is hanging out in the street outside in between sets. It's not like being penned in like an animal outside the Town Ballroom, or standing outside the glass doors of the Tralf or next to a brick wall outside Soundlab. It's Mohawk Street, dingy and neon soaked, ideal for catching some fresh air or a smoke; and on a balmy Sunday night with 3 bands on the bill, it was a great night to do just that (and go across the street to my car to shoot a Red Bull). Personally, I never understood the talk about the Mohawk being hard to get to or "off the beaten path," because for me, that wonderful little patch of downtown, the bar and the street, and the lots and alleys feels like they're OURS. Once you get your hand stamped, it's all good. You come, you go, you come back to grab a beer before the next set, you rock, and repeat the process until the show's over. I love that particular brand of freedom, and I'm going to miss it.

By May, I'd worked myself into a lather over Twin Shadow after getting hipped to their existence by this very music blog, and with Forget in heavy rotation, I was really vibrating at high frequency by the time show time came around. But after a so-so opening act I needed to kick it out a bit outside and it was during that break I noticed that Twitter was going absolutely batshit at 9 PM on a Sunday night. Apparently, sometime between Sunday dinner at my parent's house and the Mohawk it was announced that something was up and the President was addressing the nation at 10 PM... on a Sunday night. A Presidential address.... on a Sunday night? This had to be serious shit, and all of a sudden the real world punctured the bubble. My news junkie Twitter was in full meltdown mode because at that point nobody knew anything, and my mind was racing as I watched the second act. But I didn't check Twitter during the set, I was dead set on that. I was there to rock, no matter what else was happening beyond our patch of downtown.

That said, I hauled ass outside during that break to kick it out and check the Twitter and it was then that I saw that my news junkie Twitter feeds were reporting the preposterous news that we'd finally gotten Osama bin Laden. I was stunned and more than a little gobsmacked because by 2011 we'd largely forgotten about the guy, so seeing on Twitter that a SEAL team got him was more than a little unreal, and then it dawned on me that it was the guy I voted for, the secret Muslim, who got bin Laden, and not the Cowboy and Darth Cheney (who proved to be better suited for the dark arts and starting multiple wars in the Middle East without finishing them). All was right with the world as I got ready for Twin Shadow, feeling a peculiar combination of bliss and buzzing anticipation, and if it didn't feel like a dream before, it did after Twin Shadow thoroughly melted my brain, translating the intimate atmospheres of Confess into Prince and the Revolution style rave ups that whipped the crowd into a frenzy.

We went nuts for Twin Shadow. People danced, others hipster heads bobbed, and it seemed like everybody was moving at the Mohawk as we energetically ate it all up. Everything George Lewis did that night was gold; his deliriously gorgeous guitar playing was on, his stage presence was beyond cool, and when somebody yelled out that we'd got Osama, Lewis just played it off with some offhand banter before launching into the next song. It was one of those rarest and most wonderful of shows where everything is just right, where it feels like the world outside is orbiting the show that YOU and two hundred some odd people are at, and on that particular night that was saying something. Not only was the Twin Shadow hype fulfilled, it felt like we were witnessing something we knew that we'd be talking about for years because Twin Shadow/George Lewis is the real deal. I have other memories of the Mohawk, but that's the one that shines brightest in it's perfection... the night that even though we got Osama, the universe still orbited the Mohawk.

I don't know where this post should begin or end. Simply put, I'm at a loss. No concurrence of words or memories can quite sum up the way I felt when it was announced that Mohawk Place was shutting its doors a few days ago. I suppose I knew it was coming...I had heard rumors, whispers. Nevertheless, you can't really prepare for this kind of thing. It's like watching a family member die (and I do consider the Mohawk family in a weird way). In your mind you're able to reconcile the fact that you are losing someone close to you, but when it finally happens you realize that no amount of consolation is good enough. Time is the only thing that can heal these wounds...

When I was a teenager in the mid to late 90's, I was obsessed with music (still am, in fact). I would travel to VFW halls to catch local punk bands and, pre-internet promo used to seek out flyers with a tenacious voracity. This was my link to the outside world, a place that was new and exciting, especially for a young suburban kid who didn't get out much otherwise. The shows were usually one-offs and rarely would bands play these venues more than once or twice, either because they weren't asked back or because they had burned their bridges. My 16 year old heart was seeking something more permanent. A place I could call home. Most of the bands I would go see were naive young bucks like myself and were just as clueless as I was, permanently reserved to playing at friends' houses, at churches and at basements, and once they found drugs most of em gave up unfortunately. What I'm trying to say is that I knew an underground existed, but I didn't know where to find it.

I remember my first experience at the Mohawk Place. My homie Ruben and I were skate rats and decided to check out a punk show that night, so we grabbed our boards, and after some downtown shredding, headed over to the spot. Ruben had been going there for a few months and I remember him telling me that this was where the "real" scene was at.

We were greeted at the door by one Pete Perrone, the original owner of the bar. For those not in the know (or maybe just not old enough to remember), Pete was the face of Mohawk before it had one. An older Italian guy, probably in his fifties, and quite possibly the nicest human being I've ever met. More on that in a second.

Walking into the Mohawk was no joke for a teenage kid back in those days. It was intimidating. Not that the Mohawk was ever a dangerous place mind you. It was just, well, different back then. Mohawk was essentially a blues bar at the time that hosted some punk and rock'n'roll bands...but mostly blues. There were a lot of bikers that used to hang out there, and a lot of old blue's musicians. We're talking guys that were well-worn and travelled. There were also a lot of crazy punk rock guys and a fair share of junkies and low-lifes. I don't want to call the place seedy, but it was definitely a denizen for the outcasts. It was the fringe. In fact, I'd say it was the closest thing we had to a bar you'd find in the lower east side circa mid-80's. Of course, some might not agree with that assessment. That's how it felt to me.

Upon entering those old wooden doors, Pete introduced himself to me, possibly recognizing my apprehension in this new place, and we talked for several minutes. He was interested in the fact that I skateboarded and that it was my first time at Mohawk. Instead of turning me away, which was his right seeing as how I obviously wasn't 21, he welcomed me with open arms. He could sense the enthusiasm I had for seeing a punk show that night and told me to enjoy myself. I think the show was the Nickel City Showdown? Jungle Stud, the Stranded, the Baseball Furies and Trailerpark Tornadoes rounded out the bill that night. The show itself wasn't all that crazy. A few drunks were moshing. Nothing too memorable. What did strike me though was the place itself. It had a homely, cozy feel to it. My friend, Brandon, described it best recently when he called it a "punk rock Cheers". It felt like a community, even though I knew no one at the time.

Because a lot of people that read this blog are young, it's important to mention that the Mohawk that you know and love now is not the same Mohawk that some of us grew up with. Mohawk used to be quite tiny. The stage area that exists now was closed off to the general public until the early-mid 2000's. Instead the stage was in the side room on that little platform, and that side room was where you used to watch the bands play. And it would fill up quickly. I remember the Groovie Ghoulies show distinctly and how the place was absolutely overflowing with people. Where the bathrooms are now used to sit a pool table; probably my favorite pool table ever. I tell you these things not to brag about "being there," but simply to give you some historical context. The Mohawk has went through many incarnations.

When I first became a regular, the bar was mainly geared towards rock'n'roll, Americana and rock influenced music. Bobo, Girlpope, the Irving Klaws and the Dollywatchers were tearing it up as were the Big Neck Records bands of the time (The Tyrades being a personal fave). Great touring acts came through on the regular, many of which would find future fame-- see the Donna's or the White Stripes. I'm pretty sure Johnny Thunders played there too which lends you instant credibility in my opinion. I might be confusing that with the Continental though.

At some point in time, Mohawk made the switch from being a bar that hosted shows to being a venue that had a bar. And this was a great thing. It meant more people and more buzz surrounding the place. Of course, it eventually got so busy that it was necessary to change the layout to accommodate the growing audience, hence the bigger stage area and complete overhaul of the back area, including new bathrooms, and extra floor-space. A bit after the change, Pete sold the bar, and I must say it wasn't really the same after he left. I always thought of the Mohawk as his place, even though the bartenders and bookers were integral too (I'm looking at you Bill, Spicoli, etc.) It wasn't worse mind you. Just different.

I've seen too many great shows in that place to list them all. but I do want to touch on a few. Bobo, as I previously mentioned, was THE band to see at the Mohawk a decade ago. Jimmer, with all his cocky swagger, was a rock star on that tiny stage and many of those songs remain embedded in my brain. Agent Orange's free show, aka stage-dive mania, was a highlight as were all the shows that got absolutely bonkers. Cro-Mags, H20, Agnostic Front, TSOL, Sick of It All; any band fused with energy in that place was madness. Of course, there were just as many memorable shows on the mellow tip as well. Jessica Lee Mayfield was a recent highlight for me as was Sleepy Sun. Let's not forget some other great locals either; Chylde, Handsome Jack, the Bloody Hollies had an incredible run, oftentimes with Rochester's Killers, the Priests. The Black Lips in 2008. The Smiths vs. Cure dance parties, Joe Strummer tributes, and Culture Clash events. Hell, my band played there a few times and even though we sucked it was memorable just to say I played the Mohawk. The Rust Belt Revolts. Jungle Stud. Willie Reinhardt and his blues band. Vice Transmission. I could go on and on. And on.

Writing this post is digging up some fond memories for me and it's got me thinking about something. The Mohawk Place isn't just a venue; It's one of our cities greatest treasures. It is part of our soul and it's as much Buffalo as City Hall or the Central Terminal. It is a representation of who we are as Buffalonians; working class people without much money, but good people who enjoy each other's company and can appreciate good music. It is the kind of bar that was meant for us. Nothing too flashy; a dive bar really, but one you could always call home. It was an outskirt's bar for people looking for a bar on the outskirts. A place you had to travel to to know. It has a long legacy and will remembered as one of the all-time greats, right up there with the Continental. Unfortunately all good things must come to an end. What does this mean for the music scene? I wish I had the foresight to predict that. All we can do is remember it now and I think that's enough.

This is starting to sound like a really depressing eulogy and I don't want it to so I'll end by saying this: we still have a month and a half to celebrate the life, rather than the death, of Mohawk Place. Get out there and support the bands and the venue. I'm sure there's some shows coming up you'd be interested in seeing. And go check out their FREE final shows January 11 and 12th. It's going to be a who's who of Buffalo greats, past and present and it's going to be a barn burner. Let's send the Mohawk Place off in style. It deserves it.

Editor's note:  Early yesterday morning via their facebook page, Mohawk Place announced they would be closing their doors for good next month.  While rumors of the music hall's closing have been floating around for a few weeks now, yesterday's announcement still left us and many others (just look at the responses on their FB posting) feeling sad to lose such a great venue that meant so much to the local music community.  From now until the final show on Saturday, January 12th, we at the blog will be posting some of our thoughts and memories of Mohawk Place.  Feel free to post your own in the comments section below.  Hopefully they will stir up some nostalgia and smiles of all of the great bands and people that passed through it's doors over the years.

The first time I ever really gave local music a chance was right after I returned home from graduating SUNY Cortland in 2006.  I was working a part time job, trying desperately to find something more permanent, and my boss had given me a copy of Arms of the Town by the Old Sweethearts, one of Buffalo's late, great acts, during some down time.  Knowing I was a fan of Ryan Adams and Wilco, he told me to give it a listen(I LOVED it), told me an old high school buddy of his plays in the band (Erik Roesser, or Spicoli to others), and that they were playing at this bar called Mohawk Place soon and I should check them out.  

Being a kid from the suburbs, I didn't venture downtown much, so Mohawk Place was a mystery to me, not to mention that my fake ID was frequently taken from Cortland bouncers so I rarely had the opportunity to  try to get into a bar while I was underage and home on breaks.  I took the drive downtown with my directions written on a small piece of paper (I guess this iPod Maps app is much more convenient that I thought), and nervously headed inside, not knowing what to expect going there alone.  The Old Sweehearts had already begun as keyboardist/singer Mark Nosowicz was just getting going on "Escape from Bonfire City" (check out video below of recent reunion performance).  The bar was busier than I expected.  I didn't know of Buffalo's rich local scene at the time so I was surprised to many people came out to see the band.  Hey even J.P. Losman was there, feeling the music.  Keep in mind, that was before he became the putrid J.P.Losman and could safely go out in public, but that's besides the point.  I dug the band, but more importantly, I dug the venue and the experience.     

After that, I was hooked:  the old relics of shows past, the camaraderie between bands and audience, the less than clean bathroom, all of it was perfect.  I explored the walls of the bar, trying to write down as many of the upcoming shows on my sheet of directions that would fit, and did a little research on some of the bands that frequented the place.  The Harvest Sum lineup of bands, many of whom seemed to treat Mohawk Place as a second home, quickly became my favorite acts to get me out of Amherst and head downtown for a great night of music.  Over the years, I caught more great local and national acts (the Besnard Lakes show is still near the top for me) than I can remember, made some great friends, and at the very least, saved some money on the cheap drinks.   

Going to Mohawk Place always felt like you were making a special trip since you had to make a little extra effort to get there.  It didn't have the luxury of being on Allen Street, blessed with so much walking traffic that the show could sell itself.  Mohawk Place gave you a reason to jump in your car (or bike) and not make you feel guilty from removing yourself from the action for a couple hours.  Just look back in our archives for the last few months to refresh your memory of all of the great shows the venue hosted.  With that in mind, one of the more upsetting aspects of Mohawk Place closing their doors is that we may have just witnessed one of the best years of live music in Buffalo in some time.  Just as the city seems to be turning into a destination spot for many acts, we take a step back.  What happens now?  Where are all of these bands going to play?  Buffalo doesn't have THAT MANY venues mind you.  Maybe the Funeral Home or the Polish Library become bigger players in shows now or maybe someone reopens the place down the road, like Showplace Theater (allegedly).  Nothing, though, can replicate what Mohawk Place is doing.  

All I can say is that without Mohawk Place, I would have not the appreciation I do now for Buffalo music.  Hell, maybe this blog wouldn't even exist without Mohawk Place.  I hope this isn't the last I write about that place, but if it is, thanks for memories.  And Spicoli, thanks, as always, for that first round.