I read on Gybexi‘s blog that Misfits will be closing down in three weeks. I was never really the Misfits type. This notwithstanding I still have a Misfits poster in my office at the ECJ in Kirchberg, Luxembourg. My little contribution of Maltese in this world of corridors decorated by kitsch posters of home countries is a cool advertising poster of a series of long-forgotten nights at Misfits.As I was saying Misfits was never my place. Socially I always felt a non-conformist but Misfits always seemed to be full of the wishy-washy socialists or the musically enlightened who did not quite tickle my fancy. Misfits was a place where a hypocritical charade was acted out almost daily. Its customers were of the kind who would not be seen dead in Paceville (to be pronounced with disdain), so … they went to Paceville. They found their little bastion of non-conformity which sort of highlighted them as different to the rest. It gave them the chance to peek around the town on Saturday nights since it was only a walk away and, if anyone asked, you could always say that you were off to BJ’s or for a hotdog at Jimmy’s.
They say the cook next door was good before she legged it out of Peaceville to Malata in Valletta. Jealous Valletta, always trying to regain its nights of former glory while that Whore of Babylon across the harbour continued to bask in the beer drenched beauty of nights filled with language students, ecstasy laden hamalli and coke sniffing snobs. Misfits was the outpost for the wankellectuals who could not bring themselves to admit that they too got a piece of the Paceville pie. And anyway at Misfits you could hear real muzzik not the commercial trash played up the road.
Maybe I started to go to Misfits when dragged by some girlfriend. Or maybe to meet friends like Antonio Tufigno. Or maybe to listen to those wonderful nights deejayed by John Joseph (Job for friends). Maybe I might have heard some alternative Maltese band (not Scream Daisy of course). Maybe I enjoyed watching the geeks in their costumes meticulously chosen to look as randomly brought together as possible. Maybe I enjoyed the outlandish look of the drapes from the ceiling or the idea of lounging on a sofa in a bar. Maybe it was the fact that Misfits was run by Rowan Carbone… the same guy who I remember as a child (the bugger is younger than me) on the same busstop for our San Alwigi bus infront of Wembley Garage at 6.45 am. Maybe there was a time when the Mojito was good there.
Maybe. Misfits is closed. Its current crowd will definitely find another non-trendy place to patronise (never was an adjective more apt). I will definitely find an excuse to tag along. In the meantime as Vinnie Jones’ character says in that great film…..
“It’s been emotional.”