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First We Had the Velvet Underground, Then the Ramones, Then This Insane Real Estate Ad

There’s no denying that Manhattan’s East Village is hallowed ground for rock and punk history. It’s the former site of CBGB’s, the legendary club where the Ramones, Television, and the Talking Heads cut their teeth. It’s where Andy Warhol threw his Exploding Plastic Inevitable art happenings, which featured early performances by the Velvet Underground. Now, it’s increasingly filled with trendy cocktail bars and apartments that are far too expensive for any musicians born without silver spoons in their mouths to afford.

One such apartment building, on 13th Street, is called Eve. Current listings there include a studio for $3,325 a month, or a two-bed for $6,449. In an email blast sent out this morning via the real estate listings website City Habitats, the developers of Eve sought to use the neighborhood’s storied history to promote its very pricey rooms. “First we had the Ramones,” it read. “And then the Velvet Underground. And now there’s Eve East Village: Designer studio, one and two bedroom rental residencies.” Music writer Jesse Jarnow posted a screenshot of the email on Twitter, and forwarded a copy of the original to Spin:

First We Had the Velvet Underground, Then the Ramones, Then This Insane Real Estate Ad

The problem—besides the idea that the kind of gentrification that killed the East Village as a fertile arts community is somehow actually a happy continuation of that community’s legacy—is that the Velvet Underground came first, releasing their first album in 1967, nine years before the Ramones’ self-titled debut in ’76. This is common knowledge for anyone with even a passing interest in this music: the Velvets, with their loud noises, daring subject matter, and repeatedly slammed guitar chords, are often cited as an important predecessor to the punk rock scene that the Ramones exemplified in the following decade.

In the grand scheme of things, this is a petty but pretty hilarious mixup, especially coming from a place that claims close association with the culture of the neighborhood. The images of the bands, it turns out, are paintings that the building commissioned to hang in its common areas. (“The neighborhood’s artistic and rock roots are tastefully woven into the building’s design, bringing color and creativity to the clean, contemporary spaces,” reads the Eve website in part.)

Some Googling reveals that this advertising scheme for the building has been around for a while, though in an earlier email, they apparently got the order right, at least.

We’ve contacted representatives of Eve in case they want to comment on this deeply silly mistake, and will update this post if they do.