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Where Rock Still Lives on Staten Island To judge by the media coverage, rock 'n' roll is all but dead as an American artform. Oh sure, the Jersey kids have their emo scene, and the Brooklyn hipsters can fill up the Warsaw on a good night, but where does one go nowadays in New York City to see rock 'n' roll in its original form: young, fast, and totally oblivious to the adult world. If you're lucky enough to live on Staten Island's North Shore, a good place to start is Dock Street Bar & Grill (691 Bay St.), a grimy, underlit basement dive that, thanks to a grandfathered liquor license, a vigilant door team and savvy promoter Jeff "Enrage" Altieri (photo right), has become a magnet for the local myspace set. The music isn't always worth the trip, but on a night when nothing else is happening and young band finds a way to hold onto the previous band's entourage, interesting things can happen. Recently, Looking North had a chance to talk with Altieri, a long time hardcore scene veteran, and solicit his thoughts on the current state of the North Shore music scene in general and the Dock Street scene in particular. Looking North: How long have you been booking this show? Jeff Altieri: Over here...about six years? Before that, I used to work at The Wave. And before that, I used to be at the Rock Palace. I've been everywhere. But this has been pretty much the most steady gig so far. LN: So you totally manage this? It's just you lining up the bands, taking tickets at the door? JA: Yeah, I manage every Friday night. I do about one or two Saturdays a month. LN: So what's the current status of the Staten Island music scene right now. JA: Not good to be honest with you. I would say 10 years ago it was pretty big. We'd usually get about 4-500 kids a show. And not just kids, anywhere from like 16 to about 25, 26 years old...and older. But now it's basically, I would say, anywhere between 80 and, tops, 200 kids. Tops 200. That's talking about a big show. The average over here is between 60 and 80 (attendees) a night. It's consistent, but it's nowhere near what it used to be. LN: So what happened? JA: I don't know to be honest with you. The only thing I can think of is I think some of the bigger hardcore punk bands or, like, the national, smaller national bands, like metal bands, they would make a pit stop on Staten Island. So if they were playing New York and Jersey, they would make a stop off on Staten Island, so you had, let's say, a pretty big band coming in and that would attract a lot more people. And there would be local kids who'd want to come see a Sick of It All or Biohazard or one of the bigger hardcore punk bands or one of the metal bands coming in. There isn't a venue to hold those bands anymore. I couldn't book a bigger band to play in here, because the room's too small. We wouldn't be able to do it. LN: So it's kind of like an ecosystem: You need the big bands, the big venues to support the little venues? JA: Right. Then again, if you have a big venue, you have to have bigger bands coming in now. That's pretty much what happened to The Wave. It was such a big room that we had to have, let's say, 500 people a show. If you had less than that, it started to become expensive. So the perfect-sized places is a venue that holds about 500 people. This obviously can't. The Wave was too big. The Rockpile, a place where I used to work at, that was the best-sized place, because you could do a national act, a bigger punk band, a metal band, or you could do a local night. This place...I couldn't put a bigger band in here. LN: Do you see it coming back? What would it take to fill this place regularly, from a veteran's perspective? JA: I think kids would need to hang around for the whole show. What I see now the cycle is each band draws about 20 people, their buddies, which is fine. So a room like this which only holds about a hundred or so, you know, if you get a hundred people in this room it's hoppin'. But what happens is when the one band's off, their friends will leave. Then a new set of 20 people come in. And they leave. I think the good way to get a new scene together is for everyone to hang out. But to be honest with you, I've kind of distanced myself from the hardcore scene, too. I used to be pretty involved with that, but as I get older, I've distanced myself from it, because it's a little too violent, and I don't want to be bothered with that kind of stuff anymore, y'know. LN: When you think of the hardcore scene, how did that evolve? It must have started in small clubs like this. JA: Hell yeah. LN: I mean, the original punk scene was pretty much built up in garages and lofts and any weird place bands could find electricity. JA: I've seen the same cycle happen now with some of the hardcore shows. I stay away from hardcore shows, even though that's my background.... LN: Too much agita? JA: Sheeyeah...Like I did a hardcore show over here. It was packed: 200 kids. But if you know about the hardcore scene, there was fights. There was so much nonsense going on that I said, "This is why I don't do this anymore." So the hardcore scene on the island is actually pretty thriving. You get a few hundred kids a show, but with it comes a lot of drama and nonsense that I don't want to be involved with anymore. Calling the cops. See over here, it's safe. We invite the parents in for free. Knock on wood. I've been here six years and there have maybe been four fights. And that's like girls drinkin' and fighting over guys. At the hardcore shows, I'll have four fights in one night. So now I just do like my little heavy metal shows or like my alternative rock shows. It's nice. LN: How would you describe the current generation of heavy metal bands? JA: What's weird is the young kids, they're into like stuff what I was into when I was 12 years old, and I'm in my thirties. They don't want to hear the new metal, like Korn and Limp Bizkit. They want to hear, like, Iron Maiden and Judas Priest and Black Sabbath and Led Zeppelin. They're into all old heavy metal, and they dress like it. They have the long hair and the leather jackets. They look like I did when I was 13. These metal kids are totally retro. It's kinda cool in a way. I get a kick out of it, but it's surreal. It's surreal. They're into the old stuff, the spikes, the whole thing. They're not into the current metal bands at all. Unless they're playing like that retro metal, which is really strange. LN: Do they have the chops for it? JA: Some of them do. Some of the kids are actually pretty good at it. Some of them aren't ready to be up there yet. LN: You see bands coming in with the parents. Has metal become another thing like soccer or lacrosse? JA: Yeah. The funny part is let's say I book a band that's 18 years old, the bar gets killed, because we won't serve, unless you're 21. But around 18-19 years old, they don't want their parents coming. When I book a band where the kid's like 14-15, they'll bring the father, the aunt, the uncle. Suddenly the bar is filled up with all the parents drinkin' and the bar does great. But yeah, now it's turned into a thing where the parents come in and invite the relatives. It's like soccer. All the soccer moms will come in and....Which is kind of cool in a way for the parents to support it. LN: I'm not familiar with the rules on how you can mix liquor and the underage bands. How does that work? JA: The license that the boss has is 16 to get in and we have to have the kitchen open. It's like this at a few venues. It's sixteen to get in and 21 to drink and bands performing. LN: Is that like a grandfather license? JA: I think so. LN: Would it be possible to get that kind of license for a new establishment? JA: Honestly, I don't know. I do know that when the cops check up on us, they want to make sure that we have the kitchen open. So as long as they see there's food and as long as there's a stage there with bands playing, it's 16 to get in, 21 to drink. LN: Speaking of the cops, how's your relationship with them? JA: They come to check up all the time. LN: Are they cool with it? JA: Some are cool with it, but I think it's like they're waiting for us to screw up. And honestly, I'm a teacher, so I'm not going to be in a place where they're serving kids underage. So my boss knows I'm not going to be around that. We're all on the up and up here. I mean I've worked at places that weren't, and yet they're coming to check up on us. I think they're just waiting for that one day. Some of nights they'll come in and just put their heads in. Other times they'll stop the show, say, "Show's off!" and take out the menus. LN: Where do you teach. JA: Wagner. Wagner High School. English. LN: Do kids know about your moonlighting job? JA: Some do. Not that many, but that's another thing, too. We let the parents in for free, because that's my way of showing we have nothing to hide over here. There's nothing illegal going on. I would say all of the parents are receptive. WeÕve never had a problem. Parents love it that their kids are off the streets. LN: It doesn't seem very rock 'n' roll to cater to the parents.... JA: It's not. LN:...but at the same time, you're a businessman trying to get an audience. It might be a thing to exploit. JA: Yeah, you're right. This is what we have now. Ideally, I would love to have the room filled up, 21 and over. I wouldn't have to worry about parents and all the other stuff, but that's not how it is. Right now it's kids. That's how itÕs always been with my bookings. When I book bands, it's always been that way. Basically, if someone hires me to book at their place, they know it's going to be kid night. It's kind of stuck with me now for the past 10 years. I can't get rid of it. LN: What about all this attention the North Shore has been getting in the Times, stories framing it as a Williamsburg Jr. Are you seeing that yet? JA: Nah. Little things here and there, but most of it's hype. But if the hype makes it create something, that will be great. I just noticed across the street they reopened a bar. That's been like the tenth time it's reopened, so maybe it'll work. I mean, I have good nights when I get competition. That's the funny thing. When there are more places to play, I get good nights. Not anymore. LN: It's like being a lawyer. As long as you've got another lawyer in town, you'll have tons of business. JA: I guess so. Now, there's nowhere else to play and so the crowd has died out. Another weird thing, too, is that the worse the weather, the crowd gets a lot better, too. LN: If there's anything you'd like to see change in terms of managing a night like this, what could help you out the most? JA: I would like for the kids to stick around more and watch all the bands. I would like more kids to come down and not know who's playing. I always ask, "Who are you here to see?" I just want more kids to say, "I'm just here because it's Friday night, and I just want to see the show." LN: You like that. JA: Oh yeah. LN: That's your dream customer. JA: That would. I mean, we have them but not enough. With tonight, which is more of a mixed bill, I won't have so many. But if I do a metal show or a punk show, where all the bands are one type of music, then, yeah, that happens more often. More people come in and say, "I'm here for the show," but I would like to see that happen a lot more. I really think that would bring the scene back up.
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