Satyricon was easy to overlook. Its storefront, shoved next to a rundown grocery, faded into the grittiest part of Old Town. Its reputation, however, glowed like the White Stag sign. Portlanders of every age and outlook knew what went on behind its narrow front door – or thought they did. The club opened late in 1983 and quickly became the unofficial headquarters of the city’s punk scene. It had a reputation for being a dangerous place, but it wasn’t as simple as that. Satyricon also offered whimsy. One night you might stumble upon a band that dressed “like space-alien aborigines,” as one habitué put it; on another you’d find yourself participating in an earnest Poetry Night.
Some of the biggest names of 1990s alternative rock slouched through its dank corridors in the months and years before they hit the big time. Which just might have heralded the club’s doom. Satyricon has been gone for 10 years now – longer if you don’t count its all-ages second incarnation. Yet it also lives on for music fans of a not-so-creaky vintage, the name conjuring potent memories of both the freedom of their youth and a Portland that is no longer… read more >
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