Once upon a time, my 20-something passion for new & live music surpassed my 40-something passion for naps.
One of my enduring memories of my early 20’s was working the 7-to-midnight shift at WIQB in Ann Arbor. A typical night would see me there past midnight, chatting with my on-air replacement or finishing production, before hitting a hole-in-the-wall bar near my Ypsilanti apartment.
But every now and then, I’d play my first ad around 11:50 pm, immediately badgering my relief, “You got it, man? I gotta bounce,” with the intent of catching the last half of a band’s show at one of Ann Arbor’s local venues.
The overwhelming majority of those shows were at the Blind Pig on First Street.
That property has been speculated to be up for sale for some time now. I haven’t caught a show there in many years, as I’ve lived an hour or more away, and most of Metro Detroit’s live music venues are within 30 minutes of my house. It doesn’t help that I’m now also a homebody with an earlier bedtime. It also doesn’t help that I don’t drink nearly as much as I used to.
Still, one more touchstone of my youth appears to be on the verge of vanishing. I felt the need to conjure what memories of my 20’s weren’t lost to Canadian lager and Irish whiskey. A happy time with happy ears, a happy liver and a happy, lion-like mane of hair.
Au revoir, Blind Pig & the 8-Ball. Thanks for the memories.