MOMA BLCKR

Last year, the Bottom Line was shut down by NYU for failure to pay its rent. The former club, site of so many historic performances by folk and rock legends, is currently being used as classroom space.

Now it's reported that CBGB and Tonic could be the next victims of rising property values (as well as Luna and Fez, at least in their current forms). As the Bowery becomes increasingly unappealing for anyone who's lived here more than six months-with model bars and restaurants few of us can afford-CBGB's monthly rent, it's claimed, could hit $40,000 when their lease expires this August. Tonic, meanwhile, has already started a fundraising campaign on their website to try and keep ahead of their steadily increasing rent. Stars like Yoko Ono are already lining up to perform benefit concerts.

If the relatively young Tonic is already inspiring such mobilization and acts of kindness, what will happen if CBGB sets a date to close the doors? Without a doubt, there will be protests and fundraisers and big name-acts returning for the first time in decades to the dumpy little bar in a last-ditch effort. Will it be enough to save the storied venue? Probably not. That's half-a-million-dollars a year in rent-it'll take more than CBGB's showcase nights to raise that kind of scratch on a regular basis.

We have to believe, however, that in contemplating the death of CBGB, there are things to consider beyond skyrocketing property values. Such as: "What's the point of keeping it open?"

For thousands of us, CBGB played a central role during a magical period of our youth. Sure there were other punk rock clubs in town, but CBGB was the only one that mattered. A lot of us became who and what we are today, at least in part, thanks to the crowd and the scene at CBGB.

But today? With apologies to owner Hilly Kristal and his many loyalists both young and old, CBGB has been little more than a fond memory for years now. That famous awning now acts as a reminder of a golden time long, long ago, when something interesting was still happening in music.

Be honest. Not counting your girlfriend's friend's band that you had to support, when was the last time you went to see a show at CBGB? Awhile ago, wasn't it? Music on that level-most any level, actually-is as dead these days as most of the Ramones.

There was a time when the CBGB name was synonymous with new, exciting and even revolutionary music, but that was 30 years ago. Now, name acts opt in greater numbers for venues in Brooklyn to avoid the hassles that come with playing Manhattan; CBGB's weekly schedule is padded with little scrubs playing dreadful, derivative songs to small clusters of friends. Sorry to say, none of these youngsters promise a glorious musical revitalization, at least not on any horizons we can see. What CBGB once represented is long gone, and it ain't coming back. Not on that stage, anyway.

When asked for comment, Hilly said only that the landlords "would like to get rid me of now." He politely declined to discuss the situation in greater detail, merely noting that meetings are scheduled for later this week.

Which brings us to the larger point: Why didn't Hilly buy the damn building years ago, back when he could've had the whole block for $100,000? As reported in the Voice, CBGB's rent was $600 a month when the club was founded in 1975. Like the frog that boils to death in slowly heating water, did he not notice as the rent increased thirtyfold to its current $20,000? We don't mean to suggest that Hilly's been rolling in dough, but somewhere along the line-say, about the time Duff wore a CBGB shirt in the video for "Sweet Child O' Mine"-he must've taken in some money. He's sure as shit licensed the CBGB name and logo.

We're no fans of chains, but we also don't cry every time a Quiznos opens on St. Marks. The city's counterculture heritage spots are up for grabs, and if the homesteaders were foolish enough to blow through their modest earnings like kids on allowance day, let it be a lesson for everybody else: Buy the building as soon as you can.

We wouldn't be surprised if the old punk just wants out. Hilly told the News Hole that he could operate the club at a loss, but not for long. Like all men of a certain age, he's looking to have "something to retire on." We wouldn't blame him for being sick of the snot-nosed kids and their awful bands, and would hardly be shocked if he sold the name to an equity group who would then turn CBGB into a theme park. Or maybe the new owner could get a few government grants-maybe UNESCO would be interested?-and reopen CBGB as a punk rock museum.

That's pretty much all it is today, anyway. He'd probably make more money than he is now, and he'd have something to retire on. Plus, it would make a fine companion for that memorial street next to it.