• First Trumbullplex

• My First Punk Show

• A Storyteller

• “Eat a Peach”

• My First Community-Kzoo

• Upside Down Culture

• How I Became a Kalamazoo DIY Punk

It was April 12th 1994, I was 22 years old and rolled up to a punk show in Detroit with the bands Spitboy (CA) and Citizen Fish (UK) at a place I had never heard of called The Trumbullplex.

The bands had been staying with me at 516 McCourtie in Kalamazoo. I had been living in Kzoo a year or two and was pretty involved in the local music/punk scene, including hosting shows in our basement with my good friend Brian and other community members. These bands were booked for our short-lived all ages venue called Dagobah Square for Wednesday April 13th, (the day after the Detroit show). Dagobah was an old laundry mat that members of the punk community took upon themselves to turn into an all ages space (which is always worth it no matter how long it lasts), but that’s another story.

My guess is, coming from their last show these two touring bands started to have van troubles and made their way to the next closest gig, which was us. I recall Richard the Roadie was out back working on the van a lot, and Dick Lucas had an intense body odor, and at one point, we all crammed into Hey Juans for burritos on campus. I really liked talking to Trotsky from Citizen Fish and I was a big Spitboy fan. My assumption then was they were an all female hardcore band (from the Bay Area) but I don’t know how or if they actually identified that way personally or in regards to the band. Spitboy always talked in between songs about important issues and was fierce AF! I had seen them in 1992 but I don’t think we talked much then.

Just to mention, that show in ’92 was at “The Pole Barn” in Otsego, just outside of Kzoo. Green Day was on the bill but dropped off because they were about to make mainstream gold.

Anyways, one of us lent a van to help get Citizen Fish and Spitboy to their Detroit gig 2 ½ hours away and then back to Kzoo. It was not uncommon to “get in the van” or to try and catch multiple shows and as I was up for some adventure, I jumped in the van with them to their Detroit shows.

To tell the truth, I barely remember that first time at the Trumbullplex. Maybe we came in late or I was helping the bands and then left immediately after the show, or maybe it’s just that it’s been over 30 years, who knows? Whatever the case, I do vividly recall pulling up in front of those two old red Victorian mansions with a driveway in between them. There were “kids” all over the place and I remember thinking, “Holy shit! This is amazing!” It was love at first sight. Even having a great love for what we were doing in Kalamazoo this was kinda unbelievable. Since then, thousands upon thousands of people have had a similar experience at the Trumbullplex. If it was at first impressive, or intimidating, soon enough it was inspiring.

It was the mid 80’s, I was 13 and maybe you have seen the amusing viral videos that describe how kids were pushed out of the house to go run wild in the streets all day...it was something like that for me. I had a friend around that time who lived in a small basement level apartment in our little town and her name was Janice. Janice was a young teen, about my age, was not shy and a lot of fun. Nowadays, one might say she gave no fucks. When we were getting ready to go out she would just wear her bra around me and insist I lit her cigarettes and put it in her mouth, while she wielded a curling iron in front of a small bathroom mirror. It did not matter if I saw her breasts (and maybe she wanted me to?) and she’d always say, “God, they’re just my boobs!” We used to hang out at Janice's, whose Mom was raising her solo, and wasn't usually around so we didn't have to hide that we did a little drinking and smoking pot around her place. Listening to Janice’s version of her Mom, I don’t think we found her to be exceptionally cool or anything. It wasn't unheard of to be sympathetic towards parents or to what a single parent goes through raising kids, but it was unlikely at our age. I’m sure it was not easy for her Mom.

My first love was named Ronnie and she was a “bad girl,” troubled home life, swore a lot, got in trouble at school, smoked, drank, fought, explored sexual activities, and was a heartbreaker too. For a while we were a middle school power couple. When Janice’s Mom wasn’t around, which was usually the case, there was a lot of making out, shirts coming off and getting inside of sleeping bags and stuff that needed to happen because we had hormones that were out of control. Maybe we would go swimming or something after. Ronnie, Janice and my friend Brian who also “dated” Janice and Ronnie, off and on, all lived near each other and near the local bowling alley too (complete with little woods behind it which was a convenient place to smoke cigarettes and have a fire), not to mention the party store across the dusty bowling alley parking lot, which made it more likely we could score some booze when hanging out around there. It was one of a handful of hangouts in that area which included the nearby elementary and high school which had little nooks, bleachers, swings and large cement tubes to sit on or make out in.

Aside from exploring our current partner at the time’s hot bod, we roller skated (all night skates, what!) and of course we liked music most of all. What music you knew, like whether or not you actually listened to heavy metal, was too often a signifier of how cool you were, along with if you smoked and would be invited to partake. It was a small town and people thought they had something to prove. For example, even if you didn't know a band but had their t-shirt or poster, that could qualify you as a poser. I had heard The Electrifying Mojo on late night Detroit radio and wore my aunt’s red and white B-52’s jersey ala the cover of their first record and tried to talk about the music Mojo played wanting to be cool but I didn't even really know who the B-52’s were or anything much about new bands until I discovered Prince.

Janice had this tiny tiny bedroom and on one wall was a giant poster that across the top read T.S.O.L. and I simply had no idea what that was about. It seemed like it could be a band but didn’t look metal. It didn’t look like it was from the 60’s or 70’s, but it was still cool. Janice’s mom worked at a bar in Detroit called Traxx that did a lot of shows: local rock, metal and punk shows from 1981 to 1989. TSOL played there in 1984. Some big shows happened at Traxx, many bands’ first appearance in Detroit occurred there, like The Birthday Party, Minutemen, Sonic Youth, Husker Du, etc . . . but if you had said “punk” let alone “hard core” to me back then I would have had no exposure to it yet for it to register. Maybe I had heard Snake Plisskin say it (in a different context) in “Escape from New York” or maybe I heard it in “The Warriors” or something, but probably not even that, though soon enough I would find out that there was something happening out there and would learn it was called Punk.

I don’t remember how it came about but it was decided Janice’s mom would take us little hooligans into her world to a show in Detroit, March 3rd, 1985, to be specific. We were to see a band from Texas called The Butthole Surfers. It’s likely I had even heard of this place,Traxx where she worked because I listened to WLLZ, WABX and other radio stations that on occasion mentioned local bands and their gigs. Bands like Seduce and Rhythm Corps, Tommy TuTone, etc were trying to “make it” in rock n roll and were in fact playing at Traxx. More hair metal than heavy metal often, but as always Detroit offers good bands and venues that you probably still have not heard of. Not sure why Janice’s Mom decided to take us to that particular show, maybe Janice talked her into it or maybe since The Butthole Surfers had played the month before and she thought they really stood out as something to witness and thought, “hey, why not take the kids out and have their minds blown and give them a taste of the world outside of Joan Jett or Motley Crue,” either way, she made the offer. Joan Jett just to mention, had played Traxx a few years before and the three of us thought she was so cool, of course we had no idea about The Runaways.

One thing for certain my mind was in fact blown and my understanding of music and culture was overturned that night, which is probably not so unusual for a kid at a Butthole Surfers show. There was a review of their previous Detroit show in February that does a good job explaining how fucked up and weird they may seem to most people, and when I say MOST that is exactly what I mean. I can’t remember much of what went down that night other than it was indeed an all ages early show, with doors at 5 o’ clock, but you can check it out for yourself by going to YouTube. There is a video released using both the February and March Detroit performances called “A Blind Eye Sees All.” Some of what I recall from that night seems to be missing in the video but is mentioned in the review from the February show, which is odd, but at the time I certainly wasn’t sure why the person on stage with really large hair had their hands down their pants and would pull them out bloody! Or what exactly was going on with the sounds they were making! The local band, Angry Red Planet moved me to truly want to find more music like them. As for the rest of it, only much later did I come to appreciate how awesome it is to create anything you want to, especially when it doesn’t fit into what everyone else seems to be trying to do.

I wish I could get back in touch with Janice and Ronnie, but it has been so long I am quite certain it would be weird, maybe... yea, it would. I would love to get their version and recollections of our first punk show together, which sent me down a path of adventure and life lessons I am very grateful to have traveled along.

Becoming a good storyteller was an early goal of mine. I believed that lived experiences were necessary to gain perspective and make stories relatable. While I now think a bit differently, that belief motivated my adventures.

In my youth, I was a mix of curiosity, thrill-seeking, pushing against my shyness, and rebellion, which invigorated my spirit. I wanted to grow and learn with others, sharing stories not for attention, but as gifts—tales of hallucinations, near-death experiences, and remarkable encounters. Life truly is extraordinary.

Though I never mastered storytelling, I now create daily tales for my kids. My latest is about Bob, a talking seagull who scavenges at a grocery store with his friends. Bob embodies the storyteller I aspire to be.

Not every story needs a grand beginning; everyday adventures, like watching the stars or sunrises, inspire me. They remind me that life offers more beyond daily struggles and joys, and I am grateful for that.

My desire for a less burdened life parallels my wish to do more than witness suffering. Living close to nature fuels my contemplation of what I can contribute. I embrace being unsettled while staying productive.

Sometimes, a compelling idea feels like an old friend that slides up next to me, puts their arm around my shoulders and it feels so welcome and I think “I’m doing this one”. In moments like this I admittedly appreciate modern transport for the opportunities it creates, despite its serious repercussions. I thrive on exploring and doing and to be able to travel to pursue my ideas.

I’ve put together bands, books, excursions, renovations, discussions, marriages, organized and or supported a lot of events/gatherings, quit lucrative jobs and left what felt like home on multiple occasions to have more stories and try to live my best life. Eventually I took on the great task of a lifetime to have kids when I was not able to have them through sex. And of course, most recently I’ve settled into researching and telling what I think is a great story, The Trumbullplex.

This story just might be a culmination of my life’s journey thus far. I feel strongly that it’s time to share it in a multitude of ways and different perspectives. I don’t thrive on the challenge but it does keep me in contact with a lot of very interesting people, and a community which has had something to bring to the table when it comes to trying to make it a better world for 30 plus years.

I really hope you come along for the ride and be a part of this story.

First Cavale Circa 1995I graduated from high school with a fist in the air—no, literally. After three years, I encountered some trouble with the West Bloomfield High administration (and to clarify, I certainly did not grow up in West Bloomfield). Ultimately, I came to an agreement, primarily with the Vice Principal, to forgo my senior year classes at their institution. Instead, I would transfer the final credits I needed to graduate by taking courses through Indiana State University correspondence courses, allowing me to earn my diploma and participate in commencement. When that time finally arrived, I was definitely excited that chapter of my life was over, and looking every bit the part of an 18-year-old thrasher, I proudly raised my fist in victory, which ended up gracing the cover of the local newspaper. Ha, what a joke.

At that time, I had a girlfriend, worked at a restaurant, and briefly delivered pizzas. I attended shows and partied with many friends. So many great shows! I saw Kreator, Voivod, Cro-Mags, M.O.D., Sepultura, Excel, King Diamond, Exodus, Agnostic Front, Slayer, and all that crossover genre and much more. I don’t have many flyers from that era though, mostly ticket stubs, AND this post is supposed to focus on Kalamazoo anyhow, so I digress.

My first band went on hiatus after the summer I graduated when my best friend and bandmate moved to Kalamazoo, while I remained in Farmington Hills with my dad during my parents' divorce. After about a year, a few semesters at Oakland University, and almost becoming a father while simultaneously breaking up with my high school sweetheart—all at the tender age of 20—I decided to move to Kalamazoo. There, I became immersed in the music scene, evolving from an awestruck fan to a community member and organizer of events during that first year.

I met Joel Wick in 1991 in Kzoo, before I moved there, at a tiny record store/venue called The Hole in the Wall he ran. I recall this because Nirvana's "Nevermind" had just been released, and we were listening to it. You should find The Jesus Lizard at the Hole in the Wall flyer as the first flyer in my "personal/collaborators archive" section; it’s likely I have that because I grabbed it off the counter that day. I don’t remember what the venue was like or if it was located in the Skate Park—which was somehow connected to it—because I didn't attend that show or any shows there. There were a lot of amazing shows in Kalamazoo way before my time, in a lot of different places so I wanted to start with a flyer not from this Club Soda batch as a nod to that.

Brian and I got an apartment where we experimented with psychedelics, went to class most of the time, worked and attended these shows. Though we didn’t usually combine show going and drug use. At the same time I began meeting more people at Soda shows and was starting to have a lot of friends. The number of events Joel was involved in is not to be underestimated, and since we became friends, I started to help out, though not with the first handful of shows I went to. Surprisingly, I remember some of those shows well, while others, like Lungfish and Neurosis, I couldn't attend. I can imagine how awesome they must have been though. However, I did see Elliott Smith during his Heatmiser days, and the Afghan Whigs and Green Magnet School were absolutely phenomenal. UPSIDE DOWN CROSS was possibly the loudest, most obnoxious band I ever “experienced”—there was so much smoke that you couldn’t actually see them, and you really didn't want to be in the same room with that much volume and smoke, so I would venture in briefly for a dose of disorientation but mostly stayed out front. I missed Jawbreaker but saw them in Detroit around that time. The U.K. Subs were incredible, and Alice Donut remains one of my favorite bands and every show just killed it; it was such a joy to get to know them a little. I had a huge crush on Sissy, the bassist and singer, OMG! The Hyenas and Unsane took things to a new level, and more melodic bands with clever, inspiring guitar hooks, like Doug Martsch in Treepeople, the Poster Children, and Seaweed, kept me firmly on the post rock path. I wanted that so much!

This was my introduction to that music scene. Club Soda hosted great shows weekly and established itself as an underground indie rock institution as far as I am concerned. It employed local musicians and was a part of the community, even if we often shook our heads at the owner’s latest issues with how things were going. We knew the score; we were helping him generate significant revenue while paying some of the best bands in the country what they were asking, which contributed to our vibrant local music scene. Hats off to that guy though, for real!

In reality, this entire post could center on the local bands and people of the Kzoo music scene. I mean Leppotone Records, The Sinatras, and King Tammy… so good! There were many diverse acts and an array of talented bands—from sleaze punk to dirgey Grunge grooves and guitar shredders—and lest we not forget Purple Dave! This allowed us to pair bands in ways that were really exciting. All of the local bands on these flyers should be researched and appreciated especially now that it is easier than ever to share music and stories. And though many of the bandmates weren't always eager to play for little or no compensation, they did and helped create great shows for the touring bands and all of us. Definitely it was a team effort. No, it was a community effort.

The next generation seemed welcomed into the fold at Soda with our simultaneous basement DIY punk scene also thriving, which will be the subject of my next Kzoo installment. Bands like Deconstruction, Vine and In Ourselves, which were part of the punk scene, also played at the bars and appreciated that it didn’t have to be one genre or different scenes as long as we had all ages events happening also. Club Soda hosted all-ages shows too, and it wasn't the only bar in town that did so.

I would say I came up in a place and time that was a musical oasis if you appreciated everything from Crash Worship to Cap N’ Jazz like I did. The 90s were a special era for indie rock and punk bands. And as much as I cherish the early years of punk and the late 70s/ early 80s post punk scene that changed music forever; what we had going was simply picking up the torch and running with it.

Upside Down Culture Collective began as a collective project in Detroit circa 2001/02 and it was basically an anti war arts/activist crew which assumed its moniker in homage to the spirit of the anthemic song “The World Turned Upside Down”, in particular Billy Bragg’s version. Eduardo Galeano’s book Upside Down was also in the mix of why we had hit upon this name.

We participated in marches, curated cultural events, lectured, raised funds, had fun and threw our lot in with kindred spirits who believe in a passionate creative resistance to the domination of global capitalism. We made a lot of new friends and co conspirators along the way and for a good long while organized ourselves around the creation, production, and promotion of a book we called All The Days After: critical voices in poetry and artwork. In the end it was pretty sweet and the book is available here for donation. (I will take a closer look into this era of the collective at a later date within Part III. of the history of our collective.)

Eventually, I found myself, aside from maintaining the ATDA book distribution, checking emails and keeping up with correspondence to our PO Box (which included a few letters from prisoners) wanting to continue the mission with my new ideas. I ended up spreading myself quite thin, simultaneously involved in a handful of various collective projects pedal to the metal. Along the way I also managed to organize and collaborate on plenty of fun creative endeavors which were “Upside Down Culture presents” projects. Life became remarkably challenging and the excitement of the activist art stuff helped keep me going but it all caught up to me and choices had to be made, there was to be less activism in my future.

I hoped to keep the name and spirit of the collective alive though, believing our work had been vital and inspiring, even though “the collective” had ceased to exist. I was not ready to let go of Upside Down Culture so basically here I am 20 years later still finding new Upside Down Culture ideas and going at it…

Part II.

In a way the UCC began as a result of the events following the NYC World Trade Towers attacks, commonly referred to as 9-11 though I think it was in the ether. What I mean by that is our community had been hosting events for quite some time by radical puppet troupes, authors, activists, playwrights and musicians and that's who we were too. I know from looking back on old journals at the beginning of 2001 I had been brainstorming around an idea of creating a “media explosions” group. It was to be a multi-faceted approach to storytelling I imagined as a cross between Food Not Bombs and Trumbullplex. Huh?

As activists, we were starting to see that using art as a way to fight against oppression and make our voices heard was one of the most powerful and valuable tools we had. At the very least it was the most accessible tool we had at our disposal. (Keep in mind, the internet was still just getting going at this point). We were already doing it (local art and activism) just not as a specific group with a name yet.

Not quite an aside, but maybe, I would like to mention there was a “9-11” which preceded the US tragedy. “The Other 9-11” involved the US backing of a very violent overthrow of Salvador Allende, the popularly elected leftist President of Chile on September 11th, 1973. There were mass executions and torture by the new military junta led by Pinochet and all this was becoming standard procedure for the way the US operated south of its so-called border.

Victor Jara was not only one victim of the violence but more than that he was a Chilean musician/artist activist who even after being tortured, used his talent to write a final song to help make sure the world knew what had happened to him and so many others. It was people like this, that Upside Down Culture members looked towards and had a growing awareness of, as part of our lineage. We thought it important to uphold this tradition and be storytellers and use “art as a weapon” to fight back against the ugliness of authoritarianism, white supremacy and just plain old stupidity.

*(UCC members led by Erik Ruin later retold the story of “The Other 9-11” using shadow puppets, projections, and narration with musical accompaniment).

Circa 1999/2000 in DETROIT, there had been organizing, demonstrations, and resistance around issues concerning POLICE VIOLENCE and REPRESSION against its citizenry and those who were ADVOCATES for CHANGE to the status quo.

It was definitely HEATING UP.

There was a WORLD WIDE RESISTANCE, also known as the “ANTI-GLOBALIZATION MOVEMENT,” spreading and trying to create CONDITIONS for REVOLUTIONARY CHANGE as well, and we were all IN.

So, as an EXTENDED COMMUNITY in Detroit, we easily came together and formed a SIZABLE ANTI-WAR COALITION in response to POST SEPT. 11, 2001 CURRENT EVENTS, such as TROOP DEPLOYMENTS and CALLS for REVENGE…WAR.

I also remember how we met in the basement theatre/cafe space of the First UU in the Cass Corridor and it was a multi generational left wing shit show.

Some folks were really eager to get things moving and insisted we should march right away! (So we definitely need to make sure our permits are sorted out first.) Then there were others who chimed in, saying, “Wait a minute! If we’re truly upset, why do we need permission? Shouldn’t we just go for it instead of waiting for the city or state to give us the green light?” And of course, there were the “know it all” types and the older community members, clipboards in hand and buttons on their jackets (bless their hearts), who kept suggesting we should get some big-name speakers at our rally. It became a bit repetitive. On top of that, there were debates about sexism, differing views on tactics and slogans, and some younger folks feeling frustrated with the whole situation. Oh, and I can’t forget to mention there were a lot of white people involved… and let’s just say there were some heated discussions. It wasn’t exactly the most enjoyable experience!

We tried to be a part of this local coalition for a mass movement yet again calling for sanity and an end to pointless militarism. We knew it was horrible from the start, the wars that is, and we knew it was going to get worse so at least we all agreed on that. Participating in decision making with that lot was not in the cards for a handful of us though. A much smaller, more manageable group gathered together at a campus Middle Eastern restaurant, put our heads together and talked about what our options were and formed a collective. This was Marius, Frank, Kimmee, Muhammad, Dave and a few others I’m pretty sure. The basic point was we wanted to make activism more attractive using art, sounds, color, humor and generally using our voices and creativity in ways that might be, well… more considered.

I remember Muhammad was a good artist and he was an Arab American Muslim and it felt very important to me to work with him, even though he was very busy with job and family. I don’t recall for sure but I think he was Dave’s friend and I don’t think he was necessarily coming from an activist background but certainly his perspective was perhaps most important. The rest of us basically knew each other through the Trumbullplex community.

Muhammad had made some cool large cardboard signs with slogans such as “NO FORCED PATRIOTISM” and something about censorship, along with other general anti war slogans with cool illustrations of course. We used them for a demonstration in front of Dearborn City Hall on a cold night. At this same demonstration the police surrounded Muhammad and led him away from us “for questioning”.

The cops tried to assure us they “just wanted to talk to him” for a minute. We obviously tried to rally to his defense but also I think tried to not provoke the cops too much and make matters worse for the Muslim and Arab friends and participants in the rally.

If you are younger you may not realize post 9-11 was a time when people in NYC and all over were not only being detained in mass but also disappearing. It was terrifying how a lot of the public had been whipped up into a “bomb them all” fury and saw anti war activists as supporting “terrorists”! I can only imagine how it must have felt to be Muslim at that time and face the very real dangers of Islamophobia.

Between the anti-globalization movement stuff and “9-11” I personally had been arrested and questioned on 2 different occasions around that time, so I had an idea as to how “out there” the authorities were at that moment. Paranoia ran deep. It was a time of new alert systems, massive amounts of crowd control and military style weapons being given to law enforcement, increased secret surveillance, war time laws being passed, patriotism gone nuts and a lot of bombs being dropped on innocent civilians in Afghanistan and Iraq. Not to mention the bullshit was getting thick.

The stakes were escalating, and we were determined to inspire change rather than merely join the next march. Our resistance aimed to creatively demand an end to the suffering inflicted on the people of Iraq, Afghanistan, and Muslims everywhere. Our communal outrage against our government's pursuit of corporate profits through war required sustained commitment, though I question how much impact we truly had in stopping those conflicts. Ultimately, they persisted, becoming the longest wars in US history and devastating the lives of over a million people, altering the world in the process.

Muhammad eventually drifted away, as did others, but a dedicated group formed around a project to amplify our resistance to the war. We aimed to create a book of poetry, artwork, and resources that captured the voices of everyday Detroiters, artists, and activists, as well as global perspectives. I will share the stories of *All The Days After: Critical Voices in Poetry and Artwork* in part 3.

I graduated from high school with a fist in the air—no, literally. After three years, I encountered some trouble with the West Bloomfield High administration (and to clarify, I certainly did not grow up in West Bloomfield). Ultimately, I came to an agreement, primarily with the Vice Principal, to forgo my senior year classes at their institution. Instead, I would transfer the final credits I needed to graduate by taking courses through Indiana State University correspondence courses, allowing me to earn my diploma and participate in commencement. When that time finally arrived, I was definitely excited that chapter of my life was over, and looking every bit the part of an 18-year-old thrasher, I proudly raised my fist in victory, which ended up gracing the cover of the local newspaper. Ha, what a joke.

At that time, I had a girlfriend, worked at a restaurant, and briefly delivered pizzas. I attended shows and partied with many friends. So many great shows! I saw Kreator, Voivod, Cro-Mags, M.O.D., Sepultura, Excel, King Diamond, Exodus, Agnostic Front, Slayer, and all that crossover genre and much more. I don’t have many flyers from that era though, mostly ticket stubs, AND this post is supposed to focus on Kalamazoo anyhow, so I digress.

Jhon's band 'The First Cavale'My first band went on hiatus after the summer I graduated when my best friend and bandmate moved to Kalamazoo, while I remained in Farmington Hills with my dad during my parents' divorce. After about a year, a few semesters at Oakland University, and almost becoming a father while simultaneously breaking up with my high school sweetheart—all at the tender age of 20—I decided to move to Kalamazoo. There, I became immersed in the music scene, evolving from an awestruck fan to a community member and organizer of events by the end of that first year.

I met Joel Wick in 1991 in Kzoo, before I moved there, at a tiny record store/venue called The Hole in the Wall he ran. I recall this because Nirvana's "Nevermind" had just been released, and we were listening to it. You should find The Jesus Lizard at the Hole in the Wall flyer as the first flyer in my "Kzoo/collaborators archive" section; it’s likely I have that because I grabbed it off the counter that day. I don’t remember what the venue was like or if it was located in the Skate Park—which was somehow connected to it—because I didn't attend that show or any shows there. There were a lot of amazing shows in Kalamazoo way before my time, in a lot of different places so I wanted to start with a flyer not from this Club Soda batch as a nod to that.

Brian and I got an apartment where we experimented with psychedelics, went to class most of the time, worked and attended these shows. Though we didn’t usually combine show going and drug use. At the same time I began meeting more people at Soda shows and was starting to have a lot of friends. The number of events Joel was involved in is not to be underestimated, and since we became friends, I started to help out, though not with the first handful of shows I went to. Surprisingly, I remember some of those shows well, while others, like Lungfish and Neurosis, I couldn't attend. I can imagine how awesome they must have been though. However, I did see Elliott Smith during his Heatmiser days, and the Afghan Whigs and Green Magnet School were absolutely phenomenal. UPSIDE DOWN CROSS was possibly the loudest, most obnoxious band I ever “experienced”—there was so much smoke that you couldn’t actually see them, and you really didn't want to be in the same room with that much volume and smoke, so I would venture in briefly for a dose of disorientation but mostly stayed out front. I missed Jawbreaker but saw them in Detroit around that time. The U.K. Subs were incredible, and Alice Donut remains one of my favorite bands and every show just killed it; it was such a joy to get to know them a little. I had a huge crush on Sissy, the bassist and singer, OMG! The Hyenas and Unsane took things to a new level, and more melodic bands with clever, inspiring guitar hooks, like Doug Martsch’s in Treepeople, the Poster Children, and Seaweed, kept me firmly on the post punk rock path. I wanted that so much!

This was my introduction to that music scene. Club Soda hosted great shows weekly and established itself as an underground indie rock institution as far as I am concerned. It employed local musicians and was a part of the community, even if we often shook our heads at the owner’s latest issues with how things were going. We knew the score; we were helping him generate significant revenue while paying some of the best bands in the country what they were asking, which contributed to our vibrant local music scene. Hats off to that guy though, for real!

In reality, this entire post could center on the local bands and people of the Kzoo music scene. I mean Leppotone Records- Sleestacks, The Sinatras, and King Tammy… so good! There were many diverse acts and an array of talented bands—from sleaze punk to dirgey Grunge grooves and guitar shredders—lest we not forget Purple Dave! This allowed us to pair bands in ways that were really exciting. All of the local bands on these flyers should be researched and appreciated especially now that it is easier than ever to share music and stories. And though many of the bandmates weren't always eager to play for little or no compensation, they did and helped create great shows for the touring bands and all of us. Definitely it was a team effort. No, it was a community effort.

The next generation seemed welcomed into the fold at Soda with our simultaneous basement DIY punk scene also thriving, which will be the subject of my next Kzoo installment. Bands like Deconstruction, Vine, Jihad and In Ourselves, which were part of the punk scene, also played at the bars and appreciated that it didn’t have to be one genre or different scenes as long as we had all ages events happening also. Club Soda hosted all-ages shows too, and it wasn't the only bar or cafe in town that did so.

I would say I came up in a place and time that was a musical oasis if you appreciated everything from Crash Worship to Crudos to Cap N’ Jazz like I did. The 90s were a special era for indie rock and punk bands. And as much as I cherish the early years of punk and the late 70s/ early 80s post punk and hard core scene that changed music forever; what we had going was simply picking up the torch and running with it.

Stay tuned for more blogs posts that continue the story as well as!