Welcome to Nighthawks — a biweekly series where writer Sam Brule travels to noteworthy nightlife epicenters across New York City to observe and report about the night, atmosphere, and people of the weekend. Tonight, we’re at the West Park Presbyterian Church in the Upper West Side to find a reason to celebrate.
As the fall eases into winter in NYC, people’s attitudes tend to become colder, like the weather. The stresses of school, work, and exchanging niceties with bothersome relatives weigh on everyone. However, amid all the stress that comes along with colder weather, there are still reasons to celebrate. Tonight, I’m setting off to find one as my semester at school comes to an end.
I trekked in the playfully cold mid-fall evening all the way to 86th Avenue, to the west of Central Park. My destination was the historic West Park Presbyterian Church, where The Teeth would be playing.
The Teeth are an energetic and eclectic band from Philadelphia who found their cult popularity among a scene of college-age young adults in the early 2000s. Their music is theatrical, ironic, and enjoyed by enough people to support their tours more than 20 years after they first released music.
On the north side of the building were middle-aged adults dressed in modestly fancy attire. I saw mellow, reserved conversations and firm handshakes when friends met up with each other — body language that didn’t suggest pre-concert excitement, so I figured they might be here for something else.
Alternatively, the west side of the building sprouted a line of people ranging from teenagers to older adults. They donned yellow and black checkered flannels, tight skinny jeans, and high-top Converse, and their energy was excited despite the increasing chill of the fall evening. I opted to join the second line.
Within the line, two teenagers caught my eye. One wore a thrashed tank top with text that was once legible but now stood as cracked and crumbled splotches of ink. A pair of deep blue jeans stuck to their legs and bunched up towards their black sneakers, which were pointed at their friend. Their friend wore a similar but more worn pair of black sneakers, black jeans, and a black hoodie to top it off. I caught only slight pieces of their conversation, but they were clearly excited to be at the show.
The line whittled down quickly. As I entered, I began to wonder what the situation with this church was. The Teeth aren’t a religious band, probably closer to the opposite, so how did they end up playing a show inside a historic New York church?
According to The Center at West Park’s website, the building was constructed in 1889. From its establishment until the 1970s, it operated like a typical church. However, in 1978, the church began openly accepting LGBTQ+ members, which began the legacy of social justice that it’s known for today.
The West Park Presbyterian Church housed artists and activists throughout the years and supported minority members of society. Most notably, in the ‘80s and ‘90s, the church served hundreds of meals a day to people living with AIDS.
Nowadays, the church stays true to its roots in social justice by helping out the community and continuing to support the arts. It hosts plays and musical performances as a means of sharing art with the community.
While the auditorium was brimming with anticipation for the band to start, Debby Hirshman, the executive director of The Center at West Park, took to the stage. “The church is not shutting down,” Hirshman said. I was instantly thrown into a dramatic property battle I had known nothing about.
According to Hirshman, Alchemy Properties attempted to purchase the church, tear it down, and build real estate where it once lay. However, thanks to Mark Ruffalo, Matt Damon, Missy Yager, and a benefit play reading starring all of them, enough money and awareness were raised to oppose the sale of the church and keep it open for years to come.
The audience erupted in applause as Hirshman looked content with the church’s success. She went on to give a few more acknowledgments and one specific rule before the show began. “I know this is exciting, but please remain in your seats and don’t crowd the aisles,” Hirshman said before exiting the stage to be quickly replaced by The Teeth.
The Teeth took the stage, and the noise grew once more. Around the auditorium were swaths of fans with their eyes glued to the band, and not a single one of them seemed to be willing to stay seated during the performance. It’s as if everyone was waiting for the first brave attendee to leave their seat before they could follow suit and disobey the sitting-only rule.
The Teeth began with a slower song, which was met with an audience-wide singalong and another loud burst of applause as the track came to an end. Still, the seats remained filled.
Their next song, “You’re My Lover Now,” brought the energy way up — and that was enough for the audience to explode out of their seats. Without wasting a moment, all the attendees quickly stood up and crowded the stage. It was chaos. It was a jumbled mass of eager people crowding together. They were screaming the lyrics as if they wrote the songs themselves.
It was quite a sight to see such extreme excitement in a building designed for reserved worship. At one point, Hirshman even stopped the music to try and tell everyone to return to their seats, but no one really listened and the energy continued on for the remainder of the concert.
The music echoed off the walls to create an almost cave-like reverb effect, which bounced around and boomed into everyone’s ears. The two teenagers from earlier caught my attention as they jumped around wildly while filming a shaky video of the performance. The action of the audience meshed together into a wave.
At one point during the set, a man and woman were hailed to the stage as everyone waited patiently to see what would happen. They fit the younger crowd with their skinny jeans and homemade band merch. After a quick deep breath, the man dropped to his knee, pulled a ring from his pocket, and proposed to the girl. She gave an easy yes, and the audience exploded into applause once again, which was followed by the band playing some more.
All throughout the night, themes of celebrations were present. Cheering, stories of success, proposals, congratulations, and rejoicement were bountiful. The only signs of discontent I noticed were the people behind me booing as the band took a quick break.
It was during this break that I decided to leave. It was getting late, and I had seen enough celebration for one night. I shuffled my way through the crowding fans and got through the door. Outside of the venue were a few more fans who deemed that it was a good time for a break, too.
On the journey home, I couldn’t help but feel happiness. The streets were frigid by then, but the warmth of the church’s interior lingered long enough to make it to the nearest subway station. This church, which has dedicated the past few decades to helping people, will now be able to continue doing so while also hosting musical performances for everyone to see. If that’s not a cause for celebration, then I don’t know what is.