mayday, i can`t explain

I'm always going to have a soft spot for May Day.

Let's put the plight of the international workers and all the student protests and the death of Bin Laden aside for a second. Six years ago to the day, my brother Mark and I opened the first side of il Terzo Piano. It was our first jam space. Well, the first jam space we built ourselves - and a first of many hard lessons in construction, cost over-runs, sound leakage and nation building.

But when it opened, it became the coolest spot in my universe. All turquoise blue and sunburst orange. There was Vox Populi and D Open D in Room 1, Broken Palace in Room 2, odd couple Nick and Jonathan in a windowless Room 4 and Kamikaze in the deluxe suite. Humble beginnings, but with so much promise. Like Balzac had been at one time. And it didn't take much for the place to catch fire. In the next three years, it became the place to be. It was the place to spend your Tuesday mornings and your Sunday nights. It was the place I would run to from my parent's during the summer and the perfect place to have a snowball fight on a March night. It was always Franco's last stop after tour - and just a short drive to the quarry, if need be. We walked its stinky streets and admired the giant reservoirs from the roof in states few people would ever understand. We poured bending guitars into the hallways and shared our most intimate words on her cold, hard floors. The vibe was almost always positive, the pad parties were epic and those of us dedicated to the real cause all got to create some special music there. For me, the place peaked with Uptown VineRise, still months and months after our final pad party in the back section and before things went really sour with the landlords. And the band. But every musician will have their own story; their own beginning and ends.

And even in those last two years, when everything was broken and cold hard reality crept into those magical hallways; when the early wounds were torn open, the salt poured and the place left to slowly rot from the inside, I always found a good reason to go back. It wasn't always easy. But it was always necessary. Because that place was ours until the day it wasn't.

In my head, it'll always be all shiny and new.