Cheap machine-made fog formed a whispy haze that lingered around the middle of the room, and that was the least disorienting part of stepping into the 89th Street Collective for the first time. Walls were knocked down, the stage was moved– it was like going into your childhood home and the new owners put a Jacuzzi in your bedroom.
All of the changes seemed to be for the better. There's more floor space and a larger stage, the PA system sounded great, and they built an enclosed patio out back for us dirtbag smokers. But there are a few things that never changed, and that's what brought out the nostalgia kick in me.