On Sunday, Dec 9 Zebulon will be closing its doors after ten exciting years of pioneering music and arts. Williamsburg has changed significantly since we opened, and unfortunately it is no longer possible today to continue the business in the manner in which it was conceived. Nevertheless, it's been a great run. We are proud to have given many celebrated artists a chance to play in an intimate setting or develop their sound in readiness for a larger audience. Zebulon has employed and supported struggling artists and their families, connected them to a wider musical community in New York and given them a stage on which to experiment. This is our final week so if you haven't been down in a while, please come and say hello/wave goodbye, and pay your respects to this gem of an institution. Thank you for your support and stay tuned for news of our next endeavors and adventures!
I've often spoken of Zebulon here on the Endless Bummer. It is something of a second home for my family and many of my friends. It has been a place of refuge and celebration, inspiration and hope for us. I'd like to start a sentence with "it's one of the last blah blah blahs" but I feel neither locally qualified nor simply old enough to do so. Suffice to say, of all the places I've been and lived, and of all the years I've spent in this bit of North Williamsburg, in this bit of New York City, I've never found another place like it. Straight out of that mythological movie in my dreams, Zebulon is the epicenter of culture, taste and cool to me. Dare I say, in the non-cheesiest, proudly lame-ass surfy haole way I can: it is my own personal personification of ohana aloha. Jef, Guillaume and Joce, their families and all the incredible people who've worked there will be indelibly burned inside my son's skull as well. His regular drink, the cranberry/ orange juice/ spicy-water combo will forever be called the "Zebulon" for the remainder of his days. Please stop by and show your love if you've got it, and if you don't have a clue of what I'm talking about, stop by this week and feel the love. This is one more passing of what my generation of gentrifiers would call Old Williamsburg and it is the loss that hurts by far the most.
You will find me there at some point tomorrow night, later Friday night, sometime Saturday afternoon and all day Sunday. See you there, or frankly, you should feel a little square.