By Jef With One F
By Rocks Off
By Chris Lane
By Angelica Leicht
By Corey Deiterman
By Angelica Leicht
By Corey Deiterman
It's a clichť to say that this or that is "killing the scene," but in this case it is true: these sniveling simps really are killing the scene. It just makes my blood fucking boil when I think about these people. They are usually lawyers, and they are usually from places like Kingwood, Katy and Dallas. They move inside the Loop and buy some abysmal abortion of a condo because they want to be hip and edgy and have easy access to Starbucks and Urban Outfitters. They want to bask in the reflected glow of artists, because they think that makes their dorky asses cool. And they want Montrose and Washington Avenue to go to sleep at ten p.m. sharp, so they can nod off to their Everyone Loves Raymond reruns unimpeded by the strains of actual art being created.
Jeez Louise, this is the fourth-largest city in America, and a city that loves to think of itself as world-class, not some freaking lame suburb of Salt Lake City. And the NIMBY Patrol has the ultimate weapon -- Section 30 of the City of Houston's Code and Ordinances. It really is a noise weenie's wet dream. First, there's the decibel level it deems as acceptable. If your venue is in a residential area, and it is after ten p.m., it is pegged at 58 decibels at the property line. (Normal human conversation is 60 decibels, average office noise is 50. Traffic on a busy street is 70.) If your venue is not in a residential area, the decibel level is 68.
Here's a few other cities, for comparison:
Austin (75; recently lowered from a whopping 85)
San Antonio (70 in business areas, 63 residential)
New Orleans (70)
Houston has the lowest decibel level of any city I could find, which probably helps explain why we have so very few outdoor concerts. But that's not all -- let's say you own a venue and you have stayed always within the limit. Let's say you've spent thousands of dollars soundproofing your joint. And let's say that some asshole doesn't like your club, for whatever reason, and they decide to complain about the noise. The cops come out and take a reading, and it's within the limits. According to the way the law is written here, that doesn't matter. In October of 2001, the 1997 ordinance was amended to read thusly: "Regardless of the measurable [decibel] level...the generator of any sound of such a nature as to cause persons occupying or using any property other than the property upon which the sound is being generated to be aware of sympathetic vibrations or resonance caused by the sound shall also be prima facie evidence of a sound that unreasonably disturbs, injures, or endangers the comfort, repose, health, peace or safety of others in violation of this chapter."
So, in other words, all it takes is one. One jerk-off to say, "Officer, I can see sympathetic vibrations and/or resonance, and it is disturbing, injuring and endangering my comfort, repose, health, peace and/or safety." Doesn't matter if the cop doesn't see it -- it doesn't matter if it's not even there. All you have to do is say it is, and that it bothers you. And you can do it all anonymously -- so there could be a developer trying to shut the bar down so they can take over the spot, a competing club owner, or somebody with a grudge against a member of the band.
Rudyard's owner Lelia Rodgers has been dealing with this crap for years and years. She said the worst episode was this past Memorial Day weekend. "I pulled all the permits to have an afternoon parking lot party," she says. "Third song of the first band, the police came. They read me chapter and verse about how I didn't have any rights. My permit from the city wasn't worth anything. If anybody complains, then I have to shut down. And I did. I spent $800 on that party, and it was worth nothing."
So basically, anybody can shut down any show for any reason whatsoever. Rodgers believes that even more shows would be shut down if more police and music-haters knew that this law was on the books. "Most police will come by and do a decibel reading and tell the complainer that I'm legal," she says. "They haven't read the ordinance all the way through. But every now and then you get a hard-ass that can give you chapter and verse."
Rodgers doesn't have any easy solutions to the matter. "I don't know what to say. If you're looking for advice to give to people -- insulate as best as you can and make friends with your neighbors. Give 'em your phone number and tell them you will work with them."