Audio Box Studios

So I’m here at our band practice space standing outside, smoking, and generally carrying on with the rest of our group when this girl jaywalks across the street and asks us if she can use the bathroom. «Uh, sure,» says Mr. Chris (our drummer). And he shows her to the bathrooms deep inside the guts of ABS (Audio Box Studios).
A word about these bathrooms: they are not really maintained by ABS. They are David Fincher’s bathrooms. They come from the set of the movie «Se7en». The lights flicker dimly, and I get the feeling that they haven’t ever been changed, maybe because the establishment is pleasantly surprised they work at all, and are now interested in seeing how long they might go for, until the smell of everybody peeing everywhere in the dark becomes unbearable. At that point, who knows what they’ll do. Maybe they’ll just mop the floor in the dark.
In the bathrooms, there is no toilet paper — only paper towels. And these paper towels feel like sandpaper, ripping the skin off your ass. At one point in the past the toilet was broken, and required reaching into the tank in order to flush. This is not so unnerving — except that one day we found that the toilet was fixed. How did it get fixed? And how did they fix it without also fixing the light? Can they see in the dark, like bats?
The graffiti (as indicated by Jimmy O’s apt review) is juvenile, and indicates that most musicians have no sense of humor (I think one of the artists in one of the stalls reassigned the acronym ABS to Association of Butt Scientists). Sure, if I get the chance to write on a wall, I’m not going to write a restaurant review. I’m probably going to write something like «boobs», or «Ron Paul ’08». But this goes without saying: usually when I’m in the bathroom, I’m not writing on the wall. I’m usually urinating or vomiting.
So needless to say, I was worried about this girl. She seemed like a nice girl. And we didn’t need the trouble.
She came out a few minutes later.
«Find everything ok?» I ask. I don’t know why, but I braced myself for violence. I expected her to hit me.
«Oh, fine.»
Ah. A Ron Paul girl.

I’ve had a drum studio here for three years. It’s kinda gone downhill a bit in this time, but so far so good. No break-​ins, no fires, no floods, no… er… famines, and only a minor rent increase.
I think it’s fairly tough to get studio space here, as with everywhere in SF. Your best bet is to find a band on CL who are sharing a room.
Clean toilets, vending machines, and a fenced-​off parking lot (shared with Supperclub) bring this place up to 4 stars from 3. Let’s face it, it’s inhabited by wannabe rock-​stars, who seem to come up with the most inane graffiti of anyone in the world. They at least make an effort to paint over it, but they have my sympathy! Stupid wannabe rockstars! (Listen to my band at
we’re gonna be huge one day!)