Keepin' It Local-Mixtape for the Scene
Honestly, who didn't move to the closest (or farthest) city upon graduation to get out of the 'burbs? It sucks but there's still something there.
Small-Town Suburbia. Well, not quite. While the town I spent most of my teenage years in, and currently still reside at, has a population close to one-hundred-and-fifty-thousand, it feels like I know of, at the very least, most of its citizens.
Maybe it’s because I spent my troubled high school years trolling under the bridges on the riverwalk. Carving graffiti about my troublesome ex into the cement and watching my friends down Monster and Monster while attempting to coax a creepy adult who likes to hang around kids to buy them cigarettes from the Walgreens across the parking lot.
Alternatively, it could be simple. Being around town enough, you see the same people. It's a bubble that doesn’t seem to burst. There’s a train within walking distance that’ll take you straight to the city. You always come back, though. The sense of a modern Pleasantville permeates along with the entitlement it breeds. Nothing bad ever happens here. God forbid if it does or if it ever gets out.
As ominous as this set-up sounds, it’s not that devious. This walks us to an exciting time during my time in undergraduate studies at the college in this town.
The previous paragraph also reminds me of the writing from the early 2000’s YA series Vampire Kisses by Ellen Schriber. (Sidebar: read it if you miss your vampire goth days and need a mindless read.)
Throw it back four years. The summer of rebirth. Finding yourself or whatever you want to call it. I found out that I liked to work and started to run my college’s 24/7 radio station because I had thought it was a “fun job.” I also thought it would be equally entertaining to begin my first trimester at this college, as a transfer student, by taking a Debate & Argumentation class where I needed to memorize quotes from Aristotle, Plato and learn to overcome my excessive social anxiety fear to give multiple two-eight minute speeches with another random kid I didn’t know.
It all turned out FINE.
During the summer, I was looking at different organizations, bands, industry folx, whoever would want to talk to us so we had content to promote. Walking the adjacent downtown area I noticed a new logo I hadn’t seen before. It was white and circular, with a white dot in the middle and a triangle above it-very Dr. Manhattan looking. Without finding more info, I figured more info would come out from the local news station or a flyer would pop-up around campus.
Later I discovered it was a recording studio. This was one of the coolest things to come to town that has still stuck around. The last time something “alternative” came by it was an underground (literally a basement store) punk shop that had hot pink dressing room doors and floors and touted the latest Tripp NYC fashion that I couldn’t afford because I was a high-schooler who wasn’t allowed to work. If memory serves correctly, it was called Exit. They closed in 2012, I think.
My young punk self was crushed.
Back to 2016 and the recording studio. Turns out it’s owned by some local band members. They also had a long-standing relationship with the college station I ran, and usually did their new album and single releases with us first since we were the first FM station to play their bands. I later had the pleasure of interviewing them.
Ironically during one of my four to six a.m. DJ shifts I played a song that was on the playlist. It was moody in the beginning with soft vocals and grew into a moderately fast, emo-pop-punk song with a catchy chorus filled with angst to expand on making a “mistake” by dating someone.
The thing was that a month prior I had a dream that had this song stuck in my head. Most likely due to the fact I probably heard it on Q101 (RIP). However, I couldn’t fathom the name of either song or band. I asked my best friend and coworker, who I’ll call “Coworker Best Friend” based on his contact name in my phone due to the joke we made about it while slinging burnt coffee if he knew the song. I badly hummed and made beat noises while including some of the words I remembered.
Nothing. So much for looking towards a former emo kid who grew up during the mainstream peak of it all.
Around four a.m., somewhere near the bottom of the hour, if I’m not mistaken, said the song came on after a cheesy radio sweeper. The mustard yellow sun slowly peaked out from the ground and shone into my sleepy studio. The greenery illuminated; contrasted against the dull, beige freshman dorms across the street filled with tired students. The rejuvenation recipe included one part of the song, half of the sun, while the rest filtered through from the calmness of fresh nature.
“Hey! Remember that song I asked you about but neither of us could figure out what it was? I just figured it out!” I yelled at Coworker Best Friend through my phone. He was a night owl, so my overnight phone antics weren’t new to him. I turned up the knob and put my phone down so he could hear it.
It was very Back to the Future.
Fast forward a bit.
It’s 2017 and that singer of that mysterious song walked into the studio with the singer of his other band. They wanted to release a new single and help to put together a local gig at the college. The original singer also owned that recording studio that I thought was so cool. It’s still there overlooking one of the main streets in the downtown area, across from a popular sandwich shop and chain bookstore.
Underneath the recording studio sits a record store that temporarily went out of business in March because of coronavirus. Before that, it was a music venue. The cumulation of these “cool” music scene businesses in my town still surprises me. At times, it makes me hopeful for re-generating the suburban music scene. Thinking back to a discussion I had on my podcast last year with Adam Siska of The Academy Is… where he gave his perspective about growing a band in this new environment.
He said he would only play the ‘burbs before the city. Why? Because that’s where the same kids who are looking for an escape from the monotony of them lie. It’s where those who don’t fit in can look for solace in a band that plays juvenile sounding lyrics about hating their life and wanting to leave their town.
While we have grown-up, creating a mythical land of the city where we found our fit, or maybe are only starting to form into our final shape, there is a younger crowd looking for an outlet to jump-start their voyage to a new, accepting land. Allowing these creative spaces are pivotal to nurture those emotions to assist in growing into a fulfilled individual.
Sure, it’s Suburbia. We all wanted or still want out. Yet, we can’t abandon all hope for them simply because the kids aren’t going to be alright without us helping develop a safer scene from the beginning of their adventure.
Check out this newsletter’s playlist of locals I discovered during my college radio days and from The 1o5: