The number of bands included in the museum is overwhelming. “It’s poorly lit!” He opened the exhibit door and adjusted the spotlight with his bare fingers, letting out several audible screams. “Do you see the problem?” Fat Mike asked. It was the last bag of weed of the late Joe Strummer of The Clash. The first exhibit he adjusted was a tiny bag of what looked like dirt. Throughout the tour, Fat Mike would unlock exhibits to adjust artifacts and add his collection of LPs. They’re a testament to the punk scene’s tenets of inclusiveness and do-it-yourself style. The rest of the rooms are packed floor-to-ceiling with memorabilia: Posters, crude, Xeroxed leaflets announcing gigs that bands would wheat-glue onto utility poles and walls, albums, picture sleeves for singles, instruments, T-shirts and more. The lobby is a stark, modern-industrial space-black walls with oversized black-and-white photos.
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