1. Greenville, South Carolina
Greenville contains the sad realities endemic in almost every college town in the country: poverty that has encouraged a population of spare-changers and vagrants; urban sectionalism that has led to radically different sections of town divided by wealth, race, and age; the shadowy, mostly unspoken, ghosts of deep-seeded, All-American racism. It reminded me of Albany so much it was spooky. That being said, Suite 8 is up there with some of my favorite venues in the country. It is located in an economically depressed section of town, away from the business centers and college campuses, in a dilapidated strip mall consisting of little more than a beauty parlor, a convenience store, and an ode to “Shoeless” Joe Jackson. Despite the odds, the local kids have fixed up one of the store fronts with a genuine sound system, an area for merchandise, and the appropriate permits to run it, controlled, operated, and promoted for and by adolescents and young adults. The people that attended the two shows we had the privilege of playing were open, encouraging, and fun. The second show included a legitimate pillow fight that brought me back to the wild, silly, youthful fun of punk and hardcore shows I attended in Albany in my teens, before the swift and devastating infiltration of indiscriminate violence, before “deathcore,” before mosh. The city received us with open arms when it didn’t need to, and it was refreshing.
2. Gainesville, Florida
Home of No Idea Records, home of FEST, home of more alternative culture than most of the rest of our country combined, Gainesville might be too much for many musicians and casual travelers to handle. Crust punks, college students, and the impoverished abound, making questions like “Are you gentlemen carnivores?” and “Are you some kind of hip biker?” more common than the average person might expect. What might turn off some people however, is what makes Gainesville one of my favorite places to play. The shows, especially the house show we played in a living room just off of University Ave (!!!), were more than awesome, but Boca Fiesta is what really stood out for me about GNV FLA. Craig was able to order and enjoy fried alligator (!?!), and the vegetarians were able to order tempeh, okra, or stir fried vegetables. The place also completely shares tips and tables among the waitstaff which completely blew my mind. Wayward Council is another example of this approach to community, providing a public space for art, music, education, advocacy, and activism run and decided by vote, organized meeting, and consensus. It may not sound that crazy, but this worldview is the most egalitarian, democratic I’ve seen anywhere else, which is almost a microcosm for the vibe of Gainesville as a whole. Sure, it has wealth inequality and poverty, but I wish every American city was as open, as encouraging, and as accepting as Gainesville.
3. Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
I knew I liked the area of Pittsburgh we were in as soon as we walked into a Cheese Steak shop and it had fliers for punk shows next to dance parties and art showings. Spak Brothers also had vegetarian and vegan options. This might not seem that revolutionary, but when snow forces you to spend two days stuck just outside of Atlanta, and Waffle House has the only “vegetarian options” for miles, you begin to appreciate Seitan Cheese Steaks and Tempeh Hoagies. Most Wanted Fine Art was also a really awesome venue. The guy who runs it spent decades struggling to find forums to show his art, finally deciding that if he bought a building and lived in it, he could cut out the middle man and show for himself. When he’s not organizing art showings and punk/hardcore shows, he teaches underprivileged kids how to screen-print, tries to help clean up his part of the city, and finds jobs for young people he thinks are in danger of rehab, prison, or failure. These are the people I want to surround myself with, and these are the people that reinvigorate my faith in the America I call home.
4. Fredericksburg, Virginia
We had the opportunity to play a tattoo parlor in Fredericksburg with Half Hearted Hero and Advent two summers ago, and the show was excellent. A year and a half later, we had absolutely no pre-conceived notions about what might await us in NOVA. What we received was probably the most generous family we have met thus far, and an intimate but positive reception at Read All Over Books. At one point I asked the crowd, “how many people saw us last time we were here?” and almost the entire room of 25-40 kids raised their hands. As a 23 year old who spent years sitting in my room scribbling lyrics, dreaming of a band, a van, and a crowd of sweaty sing-a-longs, I really couldn’t ask for anything more than that. If you need a show between D.C. and Richmond, get in touch with Tom from the Ambulance Review, play at Read All Over, and give his dear, sweet Mother a huge hug for me.
5. Rochester, New York
Western New York gets a harsh rap for being dismal, cold, polluted, and economically and emotionally depressed. But if you look in the right places, you can find flakes of gold in a mountain of shit. We were invited to stay at the Ant Hill Cooperative after our show at Dubland to ring in the New Year with the band Departures. Ant Hill is an organization of like-minded people that pool their resources, expertise, and living area that combined to form a progressive culture hub in one of the most rugged areas of the city. The Cooperative cooks communal meals and provides access to the kitchen and pantry 24 hours a day. The gentleman who put us up for the night has had a long history of housing environmental advocates, G8 protesters, and other activists. If you are able to pay the monthly dues, you gain access to the same shelter, food, and democratic decision-making process as every other member. If they can do it there, we can do it here, you can do it wherever you are.
