Williamsburg (Brooklyn, NY)

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    Billy Jones, Baby’s All Right Owner and NYC Nightlife Impresario, Dies at 45

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    He opened Baby’s All Right and three other nightclubs, a restaurant and a record store in a dozen years, helping the city maintain its cultural verve.As a recent college graduate in the early 2000s, Billy Jones lived with his parents in Richmond, Va., but his fantasy life was elsewhere: in Williamsburg, the Brooklyn neighborhood that had become the world capital of indie rock. The closest he could get was visiting his local Barnes & Noble, where he would read magazines covering New York’s music scene.Then one day in 2002, he made the leap: He was leaving home, he told his father. He and the high school friends who made up his band, Other Passengers, had decided to try to make it big in New York.In Williamsburg, Mr. Jones began working as a barista, with dreams of indie-rock stardom. It wasn’t so far-fetched. At a cafe down the block, another barista, Kyp Malone, would soon gain renown as a singer and guitarist with the group TV on the Radio.There was passion in the moans of Mr. Jones’s singing, but he did not become a rock star. In time, the Williamsburg concert venues that had launched some of his peers — clubs like 285 Kent, Glasslands, Death by Audio — all closed. Rents in the neighborhood had skyrocketed. Aspiring young musicians left.And instead of achieving his own dreams, Mr. Jones wound up doing something else: He made it possible for other people to keep dreaming.In 2013, he and a friend, Zachary Mexico, opened Baby’s All Right, a club at 146 Broadway in Williamsburg. It became, as The New York Times wrote in 2015, the “nightlife preserver” of the neighborhood. It was a small enough venue to offer major acts an indie spirit that they could no longer find elsewhere in New York City, yet big enough to make unproven musicians feel that they had made it.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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      in Music

      How a ‘Dirty Gospel’ Minister Spends His Sundays

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      The Reverend Vince Anderson, a mainstay of the Brooklyn music scene, fills his day with worship in two languages, the Mets and a full hour of watering his 92 houseplants.When most people picture a minister, Vince Anderson is not who comes to mind.He curses. He wears caftans. He has played a “dirty gospel” residency with his six-member band, The Love Choir, on Monday nights for the past 26 years, a majority of them at the Union Pool bar in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. His signature song is “Get Out of My Way,” a growling, percussive call-and-response anthem he wrote in 2000. (He used to get naked by the end of every show; he stopped in the mid-2000s.)Mr. Anderson, 53, who left seminary after three months in 1994 to pursue music, is the minister of music and community arts at Bushwick Abbey, an Episcopal church in Brooklyn, and plays the piano for Sunday services at Iglesia de la Santa Cruz, a Spanish-speaking congregation in the same building.Known as Reverend Vince, Mr. Anderson said he was ordained in 2003. He has played with all of his band members since at least about that time, and he said they’ve never had a rehearsal. “Once in a while I send the band a crude recording, but most of the time I just play a new song once onstage for the first time on piano, and they kind of get it, and then we go into it,” he said.He was the subject of a 2022 documentary, “The Reverend,” which is now streaming on Amazon Prime Video and the Criterion Channel. He lives in a two-bedroom apartment in the Ridgewood neighborhood of Queens — about a 15-minute walk from his Bushwick congregations — with his wife of five years, Millicent Souris, 50, a cook and a writer, and their 3-month-old rescue kittens, Ace and Sonny.DAILY DEVOTIONS I wake up around 7 a.m. — lately I’ve been trying to keep my phone out of my bedroom, so I just use my Apple Watch for an alarm — and read a book or some psalms. I’m currently reading “Wandering Stars,” Tommy Orange’s new novel. I let the kittens come in and cuddle with me for a minute. Rather than doomscrolling, I’m trying to just be thankful and count my blessings; it’s important to me to be present in the moment to start my day.GETTING CENTERED I started drawing mandalas during my recovery from spinal surgery in January (I had five herniated discs in my spine, all from me playing piano) and I’ve kept it up. I’ll paint or draw something in a circle, which gives me focus. It opens up the spiritual side of me and gets the creative side of me flowing in a different way than music does.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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      in Theater

      ‘Events’ Review: There’s Kool-Aid in the Water Cooler

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      Bailey Williams’s comedy is a sharp-toothed, sometimes bewildering satire of all-consuming workplace culture.“No one is being murdered before the gala.”It’s the kind of directive that wouldn’t be necessary at most companies — even, perhaps, most high-strung, high-design event-planning firms, even at the height of gala season. But nerves have been extra frayed lately at Todd David Design. People’s imaginations might be running away with them.Or maybe, when Todd — the company’s pseudo-visionary leader — was patched in on speakerphone from a beach in Miami, his team back in New York really did hear him start to get murdered. Hard to say. In any case, his second in command, the imperious Christine, is not having it. So: “No one is being murdered before the gala,” she tells them all. They have a deadline to meet. Back to the task, everyone.All-consuming workplace culture is the satirical target of “Events,” Bailey Williams’s sharp-fanged new comedy at the Brick in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. Directed by Sarah Blush, this co-production with the Hearth is off the rails — and that’s both a compliment and a critique.The show is as vibrantly nuts as Todd’s own pretentious ridiculousness (“I am thinking already of florals,” he says airily, musing on the gala) but also tangled, occasionally bewildering and larded with too much corporate-speak. A little of that goes a long way; even when it’s being skewered, simply hearing it can have a deadening effect.On a set by the design collective dots that includes an absurd foam-encased chair with a tiny tag on one leg, ordering people not to sit in it because it is art, “Events” takes place in two divergent realities. There is the brightly lit, well populated world of the office, and then there is the skulking realm of a woman called Itchy, dimly lit with just a single hanging lamp. (Lighting design is by Masha Tsimring.)Itchy is part of Todd David Design, too, or at least she used to be. Played with soft, confiding intensity by Zuzanna Szadkowski, she speaks her series of monologues directly to the audience, and is a riveting storyteller. Itchy, we learn, has not been doing so well at the company. She is convinced that someone there has been poisoning her, which is what’s causing her terrible itch. And that’s why she’s gone to the empty office on a Friday night, dressed in a dollar-store version of hazmat gear — plastic rain poncho, goggles, multiple shower caps — to decontaminate the place.Itchy is disaffected and quite possibly delusional. She may also be dangerous. But in her raw and wounded certainty, she is human and entirely fascinating.The others — Todd (Brian Bock), Christine (Claire Siebers) and their beleaguered team (Dee Beasnael, Julia Greer, Derek Smith and Haley Wong) — have signed on to the office’s culture of surface-shininess, reflexive obeisance and total commitment, even when their guru-boss is objectively detached from reason. But what if, in their devotion to creating events for their clients, they’re missing the main event — their own finite lives? And what if they’re losing themselves in the process?“Girl,” one colleague says to another, cutting through the nonsense at last. “You shouldn’t have brought your soul here. That’s your well-being. That’s your meaning-making.”EventsThrough Dec. 18 at the Brick, Brooklyn; bricktheater.com. Running time: 1 hour 30 minutes. More