Final Show:
Trash Train, All American
Playboys, Radio Nationals,
the DTs, Dry County Crooks
Sat Aug 27, Stanwood Hotel, 8 pm,
$5, 21+, stanwoodhotel.net.
As often as clubs open and close in Seattle, we're lucky that the demise of one space is never the death knell of an entire music scene. Unfortunately, that's potentially the case with the tight-knit community of Stanwood, a charming small town about 75 minutes north of Seattle. The Stanwood Hotel, many a Seattle band's home away from home there, is an aesthetically grimy and spiritually vibrant tavern that hosts an inspiring mix of punk, garage rock, and alt-country every weekend. They're closing their doors at the end of this month after seven sweaty years of memorable shows, including local stalwarts like the Mono Men and Grownup Trouble, far-flung touring bands from Japan and Brazil, and local up and comers like the Emergency, all of whom were drawn to the venue's vintage appeal and outsider ambience.
Booked by astute owner Bobby Trash and operated under the timeworn principles of practical punk-rock ethics by himself and his wife Tami, the Stanwood has drawn a fiercely loyal crowd over the years. After initially leasing space, the couple bought the place almost four years ago. Unfortunately, the city of Stanwood condemned the above rental units because of a slowly shifting foundation—an unfortunate and expensive reality that Trash couldn't afford to fix. Once the rental units were vacated, the monthly payments were beyond their means and they had to put their beloved bar on the market.
"The only reason we are closing is that the city has condemned our rentals," says Bobby, shaking his head. He's the epitome of a classic old-school punk: handsome, wiry, and hoarse-throated—a trait that is likely due to his vocal role in Trash Train, the garage band he fronts in conjunction with Tami.
"I grew up a block from this bar—I used to see winos peeking out of the building," Billy says, relaxing on the bar's back patio. Over the course of their 20-plus-year relationship, he and Tami have made punk and garage rock shows happen however they can. Before taking over the Stanwood, they'd simply rent out halls and book the bands. "When we came here the building's owners said, 'Oh, you can't do that kind of music here,' and we said, 'Just watch us!'" he laughs. They also held fast to their ethics. "The bands always get at least $50 unless it's a benefit show," he adds. "We just try to do right by everybody. It's important to treat the bands well."
Another part of the Stanwood's tattered charm comes from its uniquely antiquated appearance. The place looks like a Wild West saloon, complete with weathered, red-rust shingles, a sprawling porch, and, um, a paraplegic dummy in a wheelchair and a cardboard cutout of Iggy Pop ushering you inside. The jukebox carries the same eclectic mix as the club's live lineup, with songs by the Replacements, the Clash, MC5, Mooney Suzuki, and Wilco available for your pocket change. Dangling precariously overhead are marionette dolls, metal lunch boxes, a "wind chime" made out of keys, and a pirate's head made from a coconut shell.
Between the CBGB-ish vibe and the off-the-wall programming, it's clear that the end of the Stanwood is a big loss—especially when you talk to the Seattle music community. "Two chords into the first song we ever played at the Hotel, some guy passed out right in front of me, knocking the mic stand back and chipping a tooth," recalls Radio Nationals frontman, Jared Clifton. "By the end of the night, there was so much beer on the floor my pedals shorted out. I knew right then Radio Nationals had found a home."
KEXP programming director Don Yates lives nearby and is obviously upset by the closure, but he's hopeful that it won't be the end of the Trash's influence on the town. "Ultimately, it's the people who gave the Hotel life—most of all Bob and Tami, but also all the regulars who are now good friends. I'm sure we'll be getting together for years to come, reminiscing about the Hotel, but also continuing to enjoy what the Hotel gave us: good times, good friends, and a helluva lot of good music."