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Sabala’s at Mt. Tabor Rocks, Really by Courtney Mumma (This paragraph contains instructions for reading aloud in parentheses.) When I’m told that a show is going to “rock”(please do air quotes here, I won’t ask you to again), I usually need further clarification. Is it going to rawk (twist your face into something mimicking these italics when saying the word “rawk”)? Will it rock with its hands bent into devil’s horns? (Do the horns, you know you want to.) Will heads be bobbing on top of stiff bodies (closed mouth, eyes on imaginary stage ahead, slow and serious head bob action), or will the sweat fly and bruises be requisite? (Maybe punch the listener in the arm at this point.) Will I sip a beer and count time signatures keeping notes about how much this band rocks according to Prog theory? (Hum part of a Yes song, rather, composition.) Is the act actually an acoustic singer/songwriter whose promoter draws fans with his (start sarcastic voice inflection here) brilliant sense of irony? The first time I found out how Sabala’s rocked was the night of their grand opening, starring High On Fire, Honky, JJ Paradise Players Club, and the Bolemics. Arriving early, I had the chance to take a look around at the astonishingly re-designed Mt. Tabor venue. The place it had been had disappeared, replaced by a huge rock club the likes of which seemed unlikely on this patchouli-scented section of Hawthorne. The dark walls are covered in local art with a definite asthetic bent towards the naughty. Above the bar and towering up to the ceiling is a growing collection of rock posters, apparently homage to owner Jason Sabala’s roots at the legendary Texas venue, Emo’s. The old acoustic room has been cleaned up and restored to a theater that shows independent film, and there are video games in the far corner of the main stage area. Comfy booths in the main room are usually occupied rather early on in the evening. Other than that, the only seating within view of the stage are a few stools at the bar, which is okay since there’s really no call for sitting at a rock club like Sabala’s. To tell you the truth, I was nervous for the success of Sabala’s. Would Portland respond to a club that just wanted to rock with absolutely no irony? Will the kids show up for bands that refuse to use their music to challenge their listeners? Within an hour of being there, the line out the door and the throngs waiting to get in quashed my initial concerns. Portlanders were not only ready for a place like Sabala’s, they were aching for it. Since my third rock show outing in Portland over three years ago, I have never been to a show where I didn’t see at least one person I’d seen before, but none of these hundreds of people looked familiar. Suddenly, Portland wasn’t the small town I had assumed, and all these people finally had a reason to show up somewhere. The crowds are great news to bands who play at Sabala’s, whose booker, Erik Haynes, takes care in setting up shows that fit the rock club vision. On their website, they discourage interested bands on the booking page with the following warning: “We like loud rock music and if you are not a loud rock band then we might not think you’ll fit well in our establishment.” Can’t get any clearer than that. So, how does Sabala’s “rock”? In the purest sense. You will be covered in sweat, not necessarily yours. The bathroom will be out of toilet paper and paper towels. Your ears will ring. You won’t care what the band is wearing. Beer will make contact with your clothing. Getting ugly and gritty is attractive. You will probably get laid.
Sabala’s at Mt. Tabor, 4811 SE Hawthorne Blvd, Portland, OR 97215, 503-238-1646 Courtney Mumma can be reached at cmumma@comcast.net |
