Fucking in the Streets

Last week, Line Out (The Stranger‘s music and nightlife blog)
broke the sad news that Capitol Hill nightclub King
Cobra—which opened in January of 2008 and was looking for
buyers/investors to help cover its costs as early as last
July—would be closing this past weekend, with its final night on
Friday, February 27. Here are three snapshots from King Cobra’s final
24 or so hours.

Friday, February 27, 1:00 a.m.

On Thursday night (or technically early Friday morning), 206Proof
behemoth Billy the Fridge was hosting the appropriately bizarre
release party for his new CD, Million Dollar Fantasy Freak Show.
By this hour, the doughnut-eating competition was over, but the freak
show was in full swing, with the Fridge presiding over a final showdown
between a couple of exotic dancers who were apparently competing for a
prize of 1,000 quarters. Billy was MCing but not rapping; after the
crowd awarded one of the dancers the contentious prize based on
applause, Champagne Champagne MC Pearl Dragon hopped on the mic
to perform a song while the crowd thinned out to the bar and the
street. Outside, Seattle Semi-Pro Wrestling cofounder Nathaniel
Pinzon had been ejected, he said, for slapping King Cobra soundman
“Greedy” Greg Williamson over a financial dispute.

Friday, February 27, 6:00 p.m.

The news that King Cobra was closing came suddenly—Emerald
City Soul Club DJ Gene Balk received a call on Sunday the 22nd
letting him know that that Saturday’s Talcum would be canceled due to
the club’s closing (that night is relocating to the Baltic
Room)—and booker Justin Wojslaw didn’t have much time to put
together the club’s last bash. Of course, many of the club’s regular
acts were happy to hop on the bill on short notice, making King Cobra’s
last night a familial affair. Pain Cocktail were slated to go on
around 5:00 p.m., but at happy hour, the club was quietly showing the
Bill Maher movie Religulous to a few regulars seated at the bar;
Wojslaw explained that a couple of the night’s bands, including Pain
Cocktail, had to cancel due to not being able to get off work.

Friday, February 27, 10:00 p.m.

At 10:00 p.m., San Francisco band Flexx Bronco were setting up
onstage, and while the showroom floor was empty, the rest of the club
was filling up. The crowd consisted of the club’s usual mix of
River’s Edge–looking heshers, spikes-and-studs punks, and
the more casually attired. Two guys in baseball caps were engaging in
some locker-room play fighting by the upstairs bar. Despite his band
having to cancel, Slats was (of course) there. Flexx
Bronco played a forgettable set of rock ‘n’ roll–heavy punk
rock, lots of guitar solos, guitar players hopping around on one foot,
other leg kicked out in a jackknife pose, or else pointing guitars
straight up from the crotch, noodling. They shot clouds of smoke and
glitter into the air, strobes flashed, the singer’s vocals were a
forgiving mumble in the mix. Other obligations called, but it looked
like King Cobra was having itself a fine last bash. RIP.