I moved to New York in 2011, and ended up straight in Williamsburg, a neighborhood in the northern end of Brooklyn.  The area had been Italian, then Polish, and was then colonized by artists in the early aughts, who opened a seemingly endless string of independent art spaces and music venues.  As is so often the case, after the artists did the grunt work of occupying decaying warehouses and scratching their brand of culture into a dingy industrial sector, the developers swarmed. The area began filling slowly with professionals, lured by the waterfront views of the Manhattan skyline, reasonable commutes, and bohemian ethos.  And, as is so often the case, the very thing that drew them there got squeezed out by more expensive rent.  Venues began shuttering, first Zebulon, then Death by Audio, then Glasslands.  Hugged to death by yuppies.

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