In this weird, urban desert zone, the police presence is also super heavy-more than just for the holiday.
The landscape is so vast and indifferent, with no mountains or hills to hem you in and give you a sense of perspective. There is a palpable strangeness in Phoenix that goes beyond this redolence of change I was experiencing. I suppose the Museum of Gentrification wasn’t so fake after all. I kid you not: Hob Nob Coffee had taken over. Another low-key establishment I had wandered into when I was here last-where people talked of philosophy and a man played fiddle in the front room-Willow House Café was a home away from home during my last stay in Phoenix. On my way, I happened upon the familiar sight of Willow House, though now it wasn’t the same café at all. I left the Museum of Gentrification and headed toward the “real” Museum, feeling pretty bummed that such an amazing place as Modified was closing down. “Modified Arts, yeah, they’re just up the way, but they’re closing for good.” A couple years later, I used a snippet of our conversation as an intro to one of my first songs, “Master & Servant,” his gravely voice setting a raw and rough-hewn tone. I was inspired by Joe as he was someone who had become so incredibly exposed in the world, though still remained open to people like me. He let me tape record him after some initial trepidation and we talked for a time about politics, living in South America, pesticides, alcoholism, survival. He went by the name of Modified Joe, a Vietnam vet with a penchant for indie music and telling his story. It was a great show and outside the venue that night I met one of the more memorable people I have come to know while traveling. I asked him for directions to the Phoenix Art Museum near Willow House and to Modified Arts, a mixed use space for music and art shows where I’d gone on my last visit to see a band called Small Sails after reading about them in the local rag. No, the guy said, his roommate just put the sign up as a joke. A young guy was smoking on the front steps in his pajamas when I approached. The house sat amongst a strange mix of vacant lots, contemporary urban condos, and the scattered DIY shops and art galleries that characterize the district. On my way there, I passed into the Roosevelt district and stopped at the sight of a sign reading “Museum of Gentrification” in the front yard of an old home. Someone just so happened to put Cat Power on the stereo, Moon Pix, one of my favorites, and it made me stay awhile.Īs I left Heritage Square, I decided to go searching for a few other local haunts I had last enjoyed in Phoenix, namely Modified Arts and the Willow House Café.
#Conspire coffee phoenix windows
I had stopped in for a glass of wine in the afternoon and sat by one of the broad, screenless windows letting in a southwestern breeze. The sparse and echoey, wood-filled bar was an endearing discovery I had made on my last visit. I was happy to see that Bar Bianco was still there, though it was closed for the holiday. I had been here three years ago when I was going to college in Los Angeles and decided to drive out and explore somewhere new I wasn’t a musician then, so traveling meant that you could really take your time in a place and get to know it.
It was New Year’s Eve Day in 2009, and I was re-visiting the city on my way through on a kind of vacation-slash-mini-tour. I found my way back to Heritage Square, a small, tree-lined walking district of historical homes and a museum where some of the old houses have been turned into restaurants and shops, all welcomingly out of place in the middle of downtown Phoenix.
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