I was frozen. There was nothing I could say. I had gotten the news via e-mail through a friend. Audio Underground, the premier record shop of the Capital District and home base for Albany and upstate New York ravers, burned to the ground last month. Everything was destroyed: countless records, listening booths, computers, a mother cat and a few of her kittens. Damian Galban (a.k.a. DJ Dames) served as the proud owner of A.U. for several years. I can’t even begin to imagine what he’s going through. I hadn’t been up to Albany in a few years, hadn’t been to A.U. since I graduated college, yet I felt a severe sense of loss. There was a lump in my throat. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t sleep. It was all I could think about the following day at work. I said a prayer for Dames. I prayed for strength, for perseverance, that this wouldn’t dampen the spirits of the raving community in Albany as a whole and that they might pull together and rebuild that which was taken away from them. 
A few days later on Easter Sunday, punk rock suffered a great loss. Not just punk rock, but every category of music that stepped outside the confines of music theory. Joey Ramone died of lymphoma. And some people wouldn’t have known had others not told them. As influential as the Ramones were, regardless of the fact that there aren’t many groups who have written so many songs with so few chord changes, Joey’s death didn’t get a full minute’s coverage on most news programs. And probably the hardest thing to get over for most people was that a punk rock icon died from cancer. Not drugs, not alcohol, but CANCER. As if the pills ‘n’ booze scenario would’ve sat better with some of his followers. And sadly enough, IT WOULD HAVE. My wife was in tears. She put on “Blitzkrieg Bop” and sobbed. I dug out a Simpsons disc and played the cut where the Ramones sing “Happy Birthday” to Mr. Burns. “We’d like to say that this gig SUCKS!” “Yeah, up yours, Springfield.” “ONE-TWO-THREE-FO…” My friend DP tagged a train in Joey’s honor and wore an armband that read "J.R." to work the next day. Recently, he sent me an e-mail: “My co-worker made an interesting point. Joey Ramone died on Easter Sunday…that means he’s coming back, right?” Had he died on Good Friday, I might have considered that wishful thinking. But the truth is that we will never hear him count off a tune ever again. If he does come back, it will be through his legacy, which will be here a long time. Anyone who’s lived in Albany for a period of time will tell you that it ain’t Detroit, but there are some brief similarities that can be made between the two. Not only are both working-class cities, both also feature techno as an integral part of their musical soundtracks. Other sounds have become popular within Albany’s underground sectors over the years - house, jungle, West Coast breaks - but techno was its main soundtrack prior to those (and after the rise and fall of its long-standing industrial/goth scene). It’s been that way ever since a humble little record shop opened its doors on a side street in downtown Albany, prior to its Lark Street expansion. It’s been that way since the house parties, the outlaw events, and anywhere that there was a sound system and a generator. My interest in the hows and whys of techno grew long after my time within the Capital District had passed. Back then, I was too preoccupied with my own downbeat agenda. I danced to techno, I appreciated techno, but I can’t say I completely understood techno. I do now, though. Now more than ever. Tragedies such as these quickly separate the shortsighted from those who see the big picture. Most of us (myself included) want to see Audio Underground rebuilt. Ask those who are close to Dames and they’ll say that’s not nearly as important as rebuilding the shattered pieces of a friend’s life. It was something I needed to be reminded of, and it took my mind back to a spiritual epiphany from a few weeks ago (before the fire at A.U.). I was at church on a Sunday morning, listening attentively to the sermon, when GOD said, “If you lost all of your music in a fire, would you still love Me? If you couldn’t spin anymore, would you still trust Me? If you lost your hearing and couldn’t enjoy music anymore, would you still worship Me?” Questions like those shake me up, but they’re guaranteed to help me regain my focus. The big picture: While Albany did lose Audio Underground, they did not lose Damian. He’s still here. That’s important to remember. A caring, kind, and giving brother is still here, and while he’s going through his own personal fire right now, he will get through this. The true heads will see to that. There is strength and empowerment in techno. Before techno was around, that same strength could be found in punk rock. If you have a Ramones album, break it out and crank it up. If you’ve got a DJ Dames mix tape in your possession, rock that joint loud. And in either instance, don’t be surprised if you get a little emotional. I did… {jason randall smith}
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