Take a late-night walk down the street known as Bowery in New York City, stop outside the John Varvatos fashion boutique at 315, and with a little imagination, you can still hear it.
The subterranean clatter of drums, the furious pelt of cheap guitars and, every few minutes, another rabble-rousing count-in (“1-2-3-4!”). Depending on the sharpness of your mind’s eye, you might even see the leather and curled lips of the bands and punters flowing into the fabled CBGB club that stood on this spot in the late ’70s.
