Last dance (or one of the last, anyway) at The House of Rock in Crestwood. Photograph by Thomas Crone
If one were attempting to understand St. Louis only through its bars and nightclubs, The House of Rock would serve as an example of a very particular type of must-visit institution. For the past 16 years, the club’s been home to (mostly) cover bands, acts that have generally mined the various-era playlists of KSHE-95. It’s the one place in town that you could reasonably expect to see and hear a group covering Loverboy or L.A. Guns or Uriah Heep. It’ll maintain its reputation as a freewheeling home for no-frills rock for no more than another week or so, as the venue plans to shutter before the holidays.
After spending about a decade-and-change as an employee of House of Rock, Eli McKee and a family member took a management interest in House of Rock in February of this year, taking over from proprietor and nightly fixture Joe Debisschop. The changes she instituted came quickly and rebranded the room, both cosmetically and in vibe. For starters, there was a redecoration, which notably claimed the mix of classic, old school nudie paintings from behind the bar.
“We took those down right away,” McKee remembers.
And perhaps as defining as any change, the room banned smoking during the evening hours, though the smoking license remained intact.
“A lot of people talked about how they knew that they’d been to the House of Rock” due to the heavy cigarette smell that came with any show’s attendance, she says. “We wanted to class the old joint up.”
About a week back, McKee says, the leasing agency that controls Ronnie’s Plaza informed the new owners that the club’s lease was essentially up. She says that the decision to close came as swiftly, and that “we’ve heard from a lot of people since. Some are sad, some are mad. A lot of them have stories. One woman wrote online that she’d had her water break on the dance floor.”
Ah, the dance floor. If there’s any place in House of Rock to do world-class people-watching, the dance floor’s that place. Out there, patrons of a certain vintage have been shuffling out to dance to the music of their youth for the better part of two decades. While weeknight crowds have often see folks in their come-as-you-are wear, the weekends have a different vibe, as folks more often dress to impress. On those nights, with a variety of cover acts taking over the 160-capacity room, the dance floor has seen real action, with pretty much every form of movement experienced in a given night.
To musicians, the super-close proximity to their fans was part of the appeal of the place. One of many, really. We quickly reached out a few folks who knew the room well and got some quick takes.
Kelly Wild has played the room plenty, as member of Trixie Delight, Pay the Cobra, and other groups. “I don't think that I ever played there without doing at least three shots,” she says. “It is definitely a beer and shot bar. HOR (as most of us that played there called it) was the smokiest, loudest, and hardest-rocking bar that you could play. People didn't go there to talk (because you couldn’t). They went there to swim in some loud rock ’n’ roll for a while and forget about their problems. New rock, old rock anthems from your teens… you would hear it all in this bar. It didn't try to be fancy, flashy, or modern. It just rocked.”
Kevin Heidbreder, a guitarist for the group Johnny Rock-Itt, says “(We’ve) been doing a full-production ‘80s show for past 10 years. For seven of those 10 years, we were privileged and grateful to grace the House of Rock stage on a monthly basis. As a matter of fact, we proudly call the place home, and refer to it endearingly as The House of Rock-Itt. Many amazing nights at that place. Lots of The Rock ‘n’ Roll played and much of The Alcohol consumed. What an amazing place! It's the Checkerdome/Arena of St. Louis nightclubs. Your feet stick to the floor. It smells of too much smoke and way too much booze. But, wow, what a vibe! We are truly proud to have been a part of its history, and very sad at its passing.”
Last night, KSHE’s Guy Favazza held court for a couple of hours, doling out tickets to see El Monstero. The band Kung Fu Caveman held the stage after his departure, fronted by a pair of metal veterans, guitarist Jerry Boschert and bassist George Potsos. They entertained a light but enthusiastic crowd with a set that included The Who, Deep Purple and Pink Floyd, occasionally nudging a couple, or two, out onto the dance floor. After their initial set, the band broke and audience members sauntered up to the stage, to throw their names into the mix for a jam session.
On the floor, one of the bar’s trademark touches remained: servers of a certain kind of beauty circled the room, pitching drinks and talking to customers about the topic of closure. It seemed that everyone had a question or comment and there was a definite feeling of change in the air.
McKee says that her own history in the place, as an employee of over 10 years, has made the decision to close more bitter than sweet, though she says there was little her ownership could to change course.
“It’s not a choice that we made,” she says. “We didn’t want to close, but it’s out of our hands. It’s heartbreaking. It was a marvelous place to see a show.”
Asked if there’s a chance that the House of Rock banner would fly elsewhere in town, McKee seemed to suggest “no,” but that her entertainment company would be opening a new, ‘50s-style room in Soulard, in a venue that she declined to identify, exactly. (Though, for those wanting to place Club A with Recently Closed Club B, it won’t be in the old Shanti.) As for the House of Rock, she figures that the room could be running next week, though there’s a good chance that this Saturday’s show by Superjam could be the room’s last big show.
As with Joe Dirt, Well Hungarians, Farrell Webber and other acts who were standard-bearers of the room, Superjam’s been a regular, big draw and it’d be in the realm of rightness if they closed the House down, maybe with a stirring rendition of Rush’s “Tom Sawyer,” drummer Kenny McCray rolling through that ferocious drumbreak, every male member of the crowd consciously (or no) air-drumming along…
Yeah, that would just about do it.
