Evan Wecksell - Blog

So first Munchaba Lounge is sold, and now The Downtown closes its doors. In my first few years doing comedy I spent most Tuesday nights running back and forth between Munchaba and The Downtown. The two venues were like apples and oranges. If Munchaba was Ani Difranco, then The Downtown was Andrew WK. I spoke about Munchaba in my last blog so let me turn to the metal-based, pathology-fueled Downtown in Farmingdale.

Munchaba may have helped my development, but The Downtown forced it. I had my toughest sets there. Before I knew what I was doing I’d get heckled, have bottles thrown at me, and serve as more a distraction than a performer.  Did I mention I was a comedian among upwards of 50 metal, punk, screamo, and hip-hop acts? These were some of the most insane, imbalanced, and offbeat people I’d ever encountered.  Thank g-d The Downtown was there to play the role of halfway house. I swear, if any of these kids stayed home, they’d just end up yelling at their parents and throwing a brick through the TV before going up to their room to cry.  These kids scared the hell out of me, and I couldn’t wait to perform for them! Sometimes, I’d wait until 3 am to get on stage (even though the kids went home around 11).

I wanted to be their comedy savior. Even though I did stand-up and got the "comedy is tough" feedback from the first open mic host, Joe Ags, once Rick took over so did my guitar gimmick. The male stripper song got dollar bills shoved in my pants during the song. "Midget Love" got me a politically incorrect ovation. The memories kept coming, my mailing list kept growing and the stalkers started following

The greatest memory came as the open mic started happening less frequently. I guess with all these kids not buying alcohol, the venue wanted to make more money with booked shows. But even though I wasn’t there, I was penning a few of my signature songs, and when I returned, "Real Emo" and "I Wanna Be Black" debuted. "Emo" was inspired by The Downtown and I have to thank Jesse, the mailing list girl for starting the lyrics for me.  I also met the adorable Jen who paraded around my mailing list after my sets. I had over 50 names one night and gave out just as many demos. In my eyes, I was a star even though it was still just a Tuesday night in Farmingdale.

Rick was a great manager there. When he wasn’t requesting I play "Black," he’d have me host a few music nights.  Did I mention how amazing their sound and stage were? This was a real venue, but I knew once Rick moved on so would I.

I don’t want to speak ill of the subsequent staff there, so I’ll just appreciate what the venue gave me. While I had great shows there, I also saw greater ones (Stephen Lynch twice, Jim Norton and Bad Medicine - a Bon Jovi tribute band).  While Munchaba built my stage presence, The Downtown built my ego.  On an island where families settle down, The Downtown was one of the few places that had a young, adventurous pulse.

I just hope those kids I played for found another place to go, or else we’re going to have a lot of broken TVs on our hands.

Earlier this month I lost a part of me when I found out Levittown’s Munchaba Lounge was sold and closed its doors indefinitely. This news came unannounced and cut very deep as no venue did more for my development than Munchaba.

I remember going there before I took the stage for the first time. In August 2002, I heard their ad on the now defunct WLIR 92.7. I always wanted to try comedy and they had a night for it. I remember writing that first set list in my car. I had no material, just a set list.  I was still taking my first comedy class at The Comic Strip, and chose to take the plunge early.

Like many comics, my first performance had few if any laughs. I had no idea what I was doing.  All the other performers there, mostly poets, just stared thinking, "You know? I think this guy is trying to do comedy." 

The amazing thing was that everyone there was supportive. There was a group of great poets there called D-Live (Clarity, Alex, Tommy, KJW). Guy Kush hosted the night with his ponytail and pleasantly inappropriate humor. People had a place and community on a Thursday night in the middle of Long Island where they could express themselves.

Munchaba had two great, young owners who were hip and supported artists. Taryn coddled my stand-up and the spoken word on Thursday nights, and Tuesdays I discovered Bobby’s kickass music night. With WLIR radio promotion, a great turnout (worthy of two bouncers) and a kickass host in Ed Ryan, this was where my songs grew to be my gimmick. "Dick Evan Dyke" was inspired by Munchaba after I found this great girl… that liked other great girls. Darren worked hard behind the scenes, Danielle was a sweetheart waitress and Cindy the bartender made me my own drink called a "Wecksell." The ingredients varied, but it was always a fruity color that was more Ocean Spray than alcohol.  Munchaba was like that best friend you couldn’t wait to see each week.

Unfortunately, people and places evolve, and I knew once Bobby sold his share to Taryn, things would change. And they did, but don’t get me wrong. The post Bobby era still had plenty of magic. Taryn brought a lot of peace, love and expression into the building. Miles and Jimmy bounced with the best of them, I met my first girlfriend, Lucas made awesome chicken nipples and I met the ridiculously insane Gangsta Rabbi.

However, as staff turned over, clientele (how do I say this nicely) matured, turnout dropped, the music night moved to Wednesday showing that they let the other Tuesday open mics dictate their schedule rather than the other way around. The Munchaba magic was fading. When Ed Ryan left, I tried to fill his shoes as the music night host. I knew it wasn’t the same, but the opportunity was invaluable. Mammacat’s John, who bought Bobby’s share, became a big fan of mine. They also paid me to host which was nice.

When I heard the summer was hurting for Munchaba I thought they would rebound in the fall, but when I wanted to swing by on September 1 to do some stand-up only to find a closed venue, I knew something was wrong, but honestly I wasn’t surprised.

Seeing Munchaba’s decline was like watching a friend who was ill only getting worse. You want to say something, but you don’t want to upset them. If I knew my calling was Munchaba, I would have stayed in New York and fought the good fight with them. But to me, Munchaba was my launching pad, my minor league farm system. It got me ready for the big time. I don’t know what will happen to the space on 58 Gardiners Avenue, but I hope it becomes a space that will help someone as much as Munchaba helped me.

If they ever make an E! True Hollywood Story on me I’ll make sure Munchaba is in the first segment. The second segment will be my downward spiral into drugs and alcohol, obviously, but that first segment - that’s where we ate, drank and relaxed - at Munchaba Lounge.