We’re all familiar with the ghost stories of NYC venues past. CBGB gets co-opted by John Varvatos — CBGB-ish peddler of Billy Joe Armstrong-approved looks and wares. North 6th is snatched up and scrubbed down by Bowery Presents and Ticketmaster’s hamster-powered server farm. 285 Kent and DBA finally slip into Murdoch’s yawning cultural detritus, with lines of former and future Vice employees lining the South 2nd sidewalks in those final weeks to glean Snapchat capital/”say goodbye”/covertly peruse their new cubicle spaces.
Then there’s The Acheron, a broom-closet-turned-venue that, after six years of shilling hardcore, punk, metal, and other assorted sonic pariahs from behind an unmarked door at The Anchored Inn, announced a similar, and unexpected, demise earlier this summer. Instead of handing over the keys to some Excel-proficient over/landlord, however, The Anchored Inn team simply took what they were already doing next door—cheap drinks, loud music, and one of the greasiest (and greatest) burger-based Happy Hour deals in Brooklyn—and expanded upon it.
Now there’s a pinball machine where the circle pit used to be—the crack of the new pool tables where Trenchgrinder’s mutant splatter formerly reigned. And if you somehow forget where you are, a gore-strewn array of old show posters and Motörhead rollicking away in the background should provide ample reminder.
In the end, maybe this isn’t the most poetic conclusion. There were no protests, no Times obits, no roof-party documentary premieres—only a punk bar in a burnt out industrial park finding a way to continue being a punk bar in a burnt out industrial park. So get out there, have a beer, and growl it out one last time:
The Acheron is dead, long live The Acheron.