Last week, the Voice reported on former Roc-A-Fella Records mogul Damon Dash's recent troubles with the law. The city brought a restraining order against the owners of 172 Duane Street, which used to house Dash's club/art gallery/rehearsal space DD172, as well as against Dash himself. They claimed six violations of the liquor code, namely storing and selling alcohol without a license. While DD172 had vacated the spot back in June, the city didn't serve the property with papers till last Wednesday.

Yesterday at the courthouse in Lower Manhattan, the judge, Cynthia S. Kern, signed a stipulation settling the matter as long as 172 Duane Street Realty abides by the liquor laws in future and agrees to provide security guards when holding events, agrees to warrantless inspections by police, and abide by their certificate of occupancy. In other words, the property is agreeing to not break the law.

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Damon Dash—fallen hip-hop mogul, co-founder of Roc-A-Fella Records—had a club not so long ago in Tribeca called DD172. SOTC alum Zach Baron referred to it as "gallery-cum-illegal-performance-space-cum-goofy-artless-takeoff-on-Warhol's-Factory," and the Observer called Dash a "Wannabe Warhol": "Sometimes the four-story warehouse is a sprawling art gallery; at other times, it's a photo studio, or an indie band's rehearsal space." To Tribecans, it was "a front" for a suspected unlicensed club, a nuisance, a disturbance.

DD172 hasn't been operational since June, when the Tribeca Citizen observed stuff being moved out of the space at 172 Duane Street. Yesterday, the quiet block where the club was located—located in one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in New York—rippled with interest as the city brought legal action against the building's owners.

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The year in music, circa 2010, started at the Cake Shop, with a shred-down to the New Year courtesy of Siren Festival MVP-to-be Marissa Paternoster and her band Screaming Females. After a tour through the NYE fetes of the Lower East Side and Williamsburg, that night ended amidst a marathon show at Bushwick's Shea Stadium, right around the time the Blastoids' drummer poured paint on his kit and started splattering away.

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Ariel Panero, doing what he did. Photo via Facebook.

The news began to circulate on Tuesday--Ariel Panero, the audacious NYC promoter behind Less Artists More Condos, had passed away suddenly, at the age of 25. Two days later, the details of what exactly happened are still in part unknown. But the farewells have already begun. (A service, set for Sunday, will be held at the Montauk Club in Park Slope.) The Brooklyn-born Panero, young as he was, had fashioned himself into a New York institution, a bold promoter and a hard worker, a guy who in life earned the trust of both former Roc-a-Fella mogul Damon Dash and Brooklyn DIY institutions ranging from Death By Audio to Showpaper to Jelly NYC.

I didn't know him well, but I did know him--every once in while my phone would ring and it would be Ariel, calling either to castigate me for getting another outlandish show of his inadvertently shut down, or, more frequently, to tell me about the next one. The last time we spoke it was when he phoned to tell me that he had somehow persuaded Dipset's Jim Jones to make the trek over the East River to perform at Death By Audio with Philly art-rockers Snakes Say Hisss and Panero's own band, Tough Knuckles.

It was this kind of spectacle that he was best at. He managed the band Grooms. He helped out with the label Famous Class. He booked shows in Damon Dash's Tribeca basement, in parking lots and on boats, in churches, under bridges, and in condos in the West Village. Sometimes, his parents would come to his events. "If you told me two years ago that I would be doing this," he told Ben Westhoff last year. "I wouldn't have believed you." But he did it, and did it well, and over the past couple years, few in the DIY community have done more memorable things in New York City. Below, we've asked some friends of his--Dame Dash, members of These Are Powers, Cyrus from Famous Class, and others--to remember him. Their recollections of Ariel are below:

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Photo of Jim Jones covering "Six Pack" at Death By Audio by Rebecca Smeyne.

Three weeks ago, Dipset capo Jim Jones pulled up at Williamsburg's Death By Audio at around 1:15 a.m. on a Friday night, unfolded his lanky frame out of the passenger seat, strolled through a crowd of befuddled punk rockers, and took the stage with Philly art-rockers Snakes Say Hisss. It made no sense. At the time, all we came away with from Jimmy's surprise performance was a suite of hilarious photographs and a blurry video of Jones rapping "Salute." Now, Damon Dash's Creative Control team have produced a more loving, black and white portrait of the evening. It is equally ridiculous. Behold: made-up gang signs, hipsters making out, a man identified as "David Chang," though we don't think he is, Dame Dash looking bemused, Jones signing an autograph for a girl who looks a lot like Charlene Yi, and maybe the worst version of "Love Me No More" you've ever heard in your life, below.

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Jim Jones gives punk rock the gas face. All photos by Rebecca Smeyne.

These are strange, wonderful times for hip-hop fans in New York. Former Roc-a-Fella mogul and Jay-Z cohort Damon Dash is running a modern day version of Warhol's factory out of a rented loft in Tribeca. Curren$y kills time at Bubby's, down the street (where the other day we dined, in close proximity to Jay and Beyonce). And Harlem's Jim Jones, once and future Dipset capo, will happily jet across the river and crash gnarly DIY punk shows. At least, he did on Friday night, where the impossibly resilient Less Artists More Condos/Under 100 kids threw a party featuring Lionshare, Tough Knuckles (featuring Under 100's Ariel Panero on guitar), Das Racist, and Snakes Say Hisss, who brought Jones out for a supremely awkward and awesome cameo appearance at the end of the night, right before the cops showed up. In the back was Damon Dash himself, looking on with pride--an increasingly regular, though no less shocking, sight at DIY shows citywide. Intrepid photographer Rebecca Smeyne was there, of course; her photos and a bit of crazy-looking video are below.

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The loneliness of a former property owner. Photo by Raquel M. Horn.

Rap mogul turned downtown striver Damon Dash may be resurrected in the pages of this week's Voice, in which Ben Detrick chronicles the executive's self-reinvention as a cuddly Warhol figure, but the past isn't quite through with him. In 2008, the bank moved to foreclose upon Dash's 25 N. Moore Street duplex; though he's tried frantically to sell the place in the interim, it looks as though the loft is finally going to auction tomorrow. This is not the Duane Street space Dash is currently running his DD172 operation out of: there, we know from experience (because he once begged us by proxy to stop getting him in trouble with his landlord), he pays rent. Let's recap, as per our story this week:

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Jonah Schwartz

Sir Lucious Leftfoot and Teflon Don have (justifiably) monopolized the conversation in recent weeks, but there's at least one other new hip-hop album worth clearing earspace for: Pilot Talk, a soothingly mellow alternative from the Damon Dash-backed Tribeca transplant Curren$y released last week. A native of New Orleans, the preternaturally laid back 29-year-old sat on the shelf at both late-era No Limit and an early incarnation of Lil Wayne's Young Money before becoming the lynchpin of the loose, somewhat random collective of rappers (Jay Electronica, Mos Def, newcomer Stalley) who've coalesced around Dash's DD172 compound in the last year. Pilot Talk also marks the triumphant return of Ski Beatz, the former Roc-A-Fella producer behind early Jay-Z singles like "Who You Wit" and "Dead Presidents" (as well as Camp Lo's Tunnel-era anachronism Uptown Saturday Night). Rapper and beatmaker spoke with us in a crowded room at the always-surreal DD172, as Dash and others filtered in and out.

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Also on the bill? Spank Rock, MNDR, and the Tony Castles, as presented by our old friends Less Artists More Condos, their Damon Dash-assisted alter ego Under 100, Under 100's more politically correct cover name--The Dash Gallery--and the Giant Step dudes. 9pm--tickets are only available in advance, and not at the door. Good Units is an enormous and essentially vacant space beneath the Hudson Hotel that hosted a few things back in February and during fashion week; right now the gist seems to be that there's no cell phone service down there, which people complained about during an Interview Magazine party last month but actually is probably an asset if you're trying to make some cool new semi-covert space pop off. Otherwise it's just Twitpics for days, right?

Look, OK, we've done our share of Dame Dash shaming--probably more than our share, if we're being honest--but can we just kind of all make a pact to let dude live? You know your hustle is a wrap when the three talking heads on Good Day New York are making fun of your divorce and your tragic estrangement from the artist who made you famous. Worse, they sent Julie Chang down to DD172, the gallery-cum-illegal-performance-space-cum-goofy-artless-takeoff-on-Warhol's-Factory space Dash runs in TriBeCa, to ask the tough questions. Like does Dame own any art? Or rather, "What's the most expensive piece of art you own?"

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