November 23, 2005
All good things must end
The Patio will close its doors, but the memories will live on.

Jill Brooks
INtake columnist

Away on vacation for two weeks, where the only world news available was BBC reports on real estate, fly fishing and cooking, I couldn't wait to get back to my motherland and find out the scoop.

Tucked away in the corner of my favorite coffee shop, I caught up on intriguing happenings: countless coverage on the new Crate & Barrel (really, people, it's just another retail store); Colts win; Bush messes up again, and . . . what's this? The Patio will be closing.

The Patio in Broad Ripple is a quaint little rock venue with no actual patio, but walls held together with Scotch tape and band flyers instead.

I heard my first punk rock band there, fell in love with my first guitarist (followed swiftly by a drummer) and puked in my first public toilet (anyone who's been to the Patio knows this is equal to jumping in the canal, which I've also done).

Go ahead and sell the Patio, but those precious memories, they're mine.

Rock 'n' roll dreams came true at the Patio. My girlfriend kissed Dave Pirner there, another friend drove Alanis Morissette to her hotel after a show (nothing happened); and I once took John Doe, from the band X, to get tacos after a set.

Walking into the Patio was like walking into your creepy uncle's garage. Very often the "opening band" began around 11 p.m. There were a lot of late nights at the Patio but, amazingly, no one ever left drunk (so, moving right along . . . ).

People from all walks of life crowded the Patio; many sat at tables during shows while the rest of us danced in the front row. No one ever screamed "Down in front," and if they had, you'd never have heard them. There, free-spiritedness graduated Magna Cum Stereo.

Patio musicians were always welcoming. Singer Michelle Shocked signed a "while you were out" pad for me; bassist Mike Watt, a poster for my brother; and Dan Bern, an autograph for my boyfriend. I could always count on a smile from Otis Gibbs, and Vess Ruhtenberg thanked me every time I showed up to see one of his bands.

Change and growth are vital for a community, especially communities running low on, say, war memorials and swanky martini bars (don't get me started), but the Patio is a deep-dish slice of Americana with extra cheese, and it will surely be missed.The Patio's last night is with Gravelbed, Randy King and Otis Gibbs on Nov. 26.

Long live the spirit.