Breitenbach Real Estate

The Stephen Talkhouse is a place of magic. Walking around the dimly lit bar and stage area I get an eerie vibe, the kind of feeling I got the first time you walked into the old Yankee stadium or the archaic coliseum in Rome. I like to think of the many magical moments that have happened here and recreate them in my mind. I wish I could interview the walls for hours on end. I place my hand on the walls and run them across the old wood bar and I like to think I can feel the vibes of the Talkhouse walking through my fingertips and titillating the nerves in my spine. It’s as if the place wants to tell me a certain tale, yet it’s never enough to satisfy.

I like to walk around the Talkhouse and look at the walls. I like to see all the bands that have come and gone. The most memorable are hung on the wall in horizontal fashion like the ghosts of Christmas past. Their signatures scribbled on framed photo’s, a symbol that bands come and go, the music may change around us, but the Stephen Talkhouse will never change. Each band that has ever performed there is in a way etched into Talkhouse lore. Their sounds have traveled and gone, but their energy remains. The Talkhouse is a house haunted by the ghosts of musicians.

I love this place. I repeat that every time I step through that old steel door way and my eyes catch the glimpse of the dimly lit Christmas lights and old Phil the bartender with his bandanna standing there pouring a fresh round of Jose Quervo shots. The lighting almost makes the place drastically dark, but the dim lighting is not for a romantic occasion. The talkhouse is raw. The raw visuals of the Talkhouse go right along with the raw energy that often radiates from the patrons, musicians, and bartenders. There is a certain individuality about everything within the Talkhouse. When I step outside even for a second, I take a deep breathe and I suddenly feel like I just stepped outside of some kind of vortex. The vortex is contagious and addicting. The bumping kick drum and driving bass lines make the Talkhouse shake and awakens the blood in my veins. I can hear the bump from the parking lot when I pull up. It makes me smile that some band is trying to bring the old structure down. “I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your house down” plays the big bad wolf.

The bump. That vibration. It is the Talkhouse calling. I can never seem to get away from the place. I always step inside for some more and that big bad wolf never does blow the house totally down. The band stops playing and the sounds stop, but the energy always seems to remain.

I strongly recommend the next time your in the Hamptons to visit the Talkhouse. The Talkhouse changes with the seasons, but it is always a great experience. The winter brings out a lot of the year round musicians. The bar is less crowded and the Talkhouse becomes a great spot to get away. The summer brings summer crowds and some prime time bands, but the feeling of the talkhouse, like the music it produces, never changes.

-Matthew Breitenbach

This entry was posted on Thursday, February 19th, 2009 at 4:08 pm and is filed under Places to Go. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.