The House of Vans sounds more like a lesser family in HBO’s Game of Thrones than a concert venue. At least in Brooklyn. Here, the famed shoe manufacturer is better known for its clothing than its concert space. Vans shoes, snapbacks, backpacks and hoodies can easily be found in just about any corner of the borough, but mention the House of Vans to a passerby and you’re likely to be met with confusion. Other venues like Irving Plaza, Terminal 5, and MSG have risen to the level of the common vernacular, amongst concertgoers and non-concertgoers alike; odds are even your landlord has heard of those. While the House of Vans doesn’t toil away at the level of obscurity of say Cake Shop or Palisades, the name doesn’t carry the weight it normally does. Out on the wider concert circuit, Vans rules supreme as sponsors of the famed Warped Tour. Here, it is just lesser known and that is a mistake.*

Hidden in the far reaches of Greenpoint, tucked up against the water, the venue boosts both an indoor and outdoor stage area, a bar, and enough ramps to qualify it as a skatepark. It’s an incredibly versatile space. Problem is that in order to have that much space in this city you have to be somewhere where there is still space to be had. You need to be able to gather hundreds of people on any given night and be loud until all hours of the morning. You need to be able to pull amps and all manner of equipment through the doors. Most importantly, you need to be able to afford the rent.

Over the past few years particularly in Brooklyn, venues have been pushed and priced out of trendier parts of town and forced to go-under or take up root elsewhere. Vans, perhaps preemptively, set up shop in Greenpoint. Odds are nobody is going to be muscling for the 25 Franklin space for at least a few years. A short walk from the Nassau stop on the G or a bit of a longer walk from the Bedford stop on the L, the venue sits on a particularly uninhabited stretch of Franklin Street. If it weren’t for the eye-catching string lights on the rooftop deck of Northern Territory, the bar across the street from the venue, you could easily walk right past the block. The steel roll up doors of the venue’s main entrance, when shut, almost camouflage it’s appearance into the backdrop of industrial, brick buildings. However, when the doors are opened and the line collects, the venue comes alive.

For the Danny Brown documentary and show on Tuesday, a healthy crowd gathered outside hours before doors. They stood, an eclectic mix of teenagers and twenty-something, anxiously pacing within the barricades set up by security. This was the general admissions line. The true fans. The people that showed up, skipped school or work, and lined up early. They were the ones who, when an “oh shit that’s him” rang out, turned in unison like a flock of birds in mid-air and cheered. Brown waved to their delight before continuing casually and disappearing through a far door. The moment was recounted several times as security doled out wristbands and checks bags. When the fans were finally funneled into the main space, they mingled with PR reps, volunteers, event photographers and all the others that showed up that night.

Perhaps it was the Vans name that brought all the various populations together. Their sponsorship was obvious as was the patronage of the other companies. An open bar, serving only Goose Island, was set up in back and the show presenters made sure to thank the two groups along with Vimeo and a few other companies for making the night possible. The sentiments didn’t offset the night. It all seemed genuine and tasteful. There was no pressure to use certain hashtags or participate in an utterly unnecessary photoshoot in which the backdrop is just the company logo. The crowd simply gathered, clearly happy with their free beer (who wouldn’t be?) and prepared to watch the film. The presence of Vans and Co. was felt, but the crowd was never made to kneel and kiss the ring.

However, the night did serve as a reminder of the sort of financial situation of live section of the music business. In a place like Brooklyn, it seems at times that concerts crop up like mushrooms; there is always a new band playing someone’s literal basement and it’s easy to forget in all that early stage, DIY that someone has to pay to keep the lights on. Especially if you want to shoot a pet project of a documentary, like Danny Brown: Live at the Majestic, and premier it in New York. The doc may have starred a famous rapper and have been directed by the award-winning Andrew Cohn, but it still needed a patron. Enter Vans.

According to their mission statement, the brand “promotes the action sports lifestyle, youth culture and creative self-expression through the support of athletes, musicians and artists and through progressive events and platforms.” Most people see Vans as a pair of shoes and/or the company behind the concert that your one music-obsessed friend used to go to in high school. In reality, Vans has been constantly expanding it’s reach beyond skateboard-appropriate footwear. Similarly to how Red Bull went from purely an energy drink to the company responsible for Felix Baumgartner’s space jump, Vans has been using sponsorship as a way to encourage creativity and as they say, “self-expression.” It is thanks to this effort that both Brown and Cohn were able to be showcased on Tuesday night.

The evening was evidence not only that such benevolence works, but also that sponsorship may be the future for music. It proved that such a partnership wouldn’t have to be overbearing. Thankfully, the House of Vans isn’t as #sponc as some places. During the Danny Brown show, there weren’t couches dotted with pillows bearing the name of popular chip brand or clownishly dressed candy stripers-esque volunteers handing out free samples or swag. It was just a couple hundred people, waiting for the light to fade on a warm spring night so that they could watch their favorite artist while sharing a Goose Island with like-minded friends.

by Zoe Marquedant

* The Author would like to note that this piece is in no way sponsored. At all. The Author just genuinely had a nice time at a really great venue and wanted to spread the word. ‘Cause you need all the reasons you can get to schlep all the way out to Greenpoint. Seriously. Good luck with that G train.