Like What You Like

So I would tell myself. Years after leaving my home state of Kansas I continued to say that nothing significant happened while I lived there. In my quiet suburb I was part of a small group of friends that pursued music. From middle school onward I gradually discovered my love for music. My friends and I would attend shows, trade CDs, and even write our own songs. Even though I immersed myself in music I continued to feel a distinct separation between me and my favorite bands. Only after moving to a city with an established music scene did I discover what I was missing and why I felt nothing was happening in Kansas.

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It is not cool to grow up in Kansas as a kid, especially if you’re looking for music. Anywhere else in the world seems cooler. I’ve always thought that if I would have known about one band from Kansas on the national stage maybe I would have felt differently. I never heard national news about Kansas, people didn’t make good movies about Kansas, and all the bands I liked certainly weren’t from Kansas.

As a result, my favorite bands didn’t seem real to me as a kid. For most of my childhood I experienced my favorite music through CD sections. The major cultural touchpoint for my suburban upbringing was the mall. I would usually find new bands through the most gnarly t-shirts on the wall at Hot Topic, my dad would call them my “monster shirts”. Learning about a band for the first time, turning around and having their music in arms reach was perfect. The proximity that stores like Hot Topic created was a big part of my first connections to music. The idea that a band consisted of kids about my age did not occur to me until years later.

Before I was skittering up and down escalators and traversing the mezzanine of the mall, I honestly didn’t think much about music. There was one kid at my middle school who had a Nirvana shirt, his name was Aaron. Aaron was the first person I ever knew of who owned band t-shirts at my school. I hoped that I looked as cool in my Kohl’s clearance outfit, but Aaron exuded cool with his Nirvana shirt. I had to be his friend. I didn’t know what Nirvana was but I was going to find out.

I wish I had an exact recollection of Aaron and I’s first conversation. All I remember is that by the end of our chat Aaron had invited me over to his house to jam that Friday night with a few other kids. Aaron told me to bring my guitar and learn the song “Last Resort” by Papa Roach so I told him I would.

First off, I had no idea who Papa Roach was and the other detail I intentionally embellished was that I’d never even been in the same room as a real-life guitar. So naturally, to seem cooler than I was, I told Aaron that I knew the song and I’d try to bring my guitar. That night when my dad arrived home from work I casually mentioned that I needed a guitar or else my entire social reputation was in jeopardy. On Friday, I showed up to Aaron’s with a brand new (Knock off) Les Paul, which I chose because the pickup switch looked like something that I saw on a video of Kurt Cobain playing. Is it really a lie if you end up making it true before anyone finds out?

It was clear right out of the gate when I strapped on my first guitar in Aaron’s basement that this was nothing like Guitar Hero. There were more than five places to put my left hand and infinitely more strings. I struggled through but that night started my journey on guitar. Aaron and I would continue to play music together in my first band, Primal State (fka Written In Red (ffka Alphamale Jackhammer))

At home playing guitar didn’t have much support. Music in general was never a major topic of conversation. My family engaged with music to the extent that it was present in the regular world. Whatever was on the radio, on the soundtrack of a movie, or the rare CD in my parents stereo was what was on. I always took interest when my parents would intentionally put something on or adjust the volume. The act of turning up the volume or singing along to music always perked up my ears. Songs like ‘Slide’ by The Goo Goo Dolls and ‘Sweet Dreams’ by The Eurythmics are the first songs I remember hearing in my dads car. Music was not a focal point of my upbringing but small moments left their mark.

The concept of making music didn’t even occur to me when I was first fumbling through “Last Resort” in Aaron’s basement. To me songs had an undefined source, they simply were. Imagining that I could replicate what I’d heard on a stereo with my hands felt like the ultimate point of having a guitar. Music felt that small to me then, it was just playing along to someone else’s song and connecting with new friends.

The friends that I made that night in Aaron’s basement would go on to become my best friends. We all loved music. We didn’t always agree on what was the best music but that led to some amazing discoveries. Finding new bands was almost a competition, especially when it came to heavy music. Once we found metal (and the numerous sub-genres within) we were constantly looking for ways to top each other with the goriest album artwork, slimiest lyrics, and shreddy-est guitar solos etc. We were all fixated on the people making the music we loved and were ever on the search for ways we could be a part of it, which led me to my first real shows.

Attending shows is one of the great joys of being a music lover. More than any other pastime, concerts offer a level of access to artists that no other major industry offers. This is especially true for smaller club shows that take place at bars; shows where getting on stage and taking the mic from the lead singer is not only allowed but encouraged. 

From high school to college I was seeing the most shows I’d ever seen consecutively. Kansas City and Lawrence were the hotspots for the shows I wanted to see. In high school it was a short drive from my suburb in Johnson County. After my college move that concert commute tripled, but that didn’t stop me from driving down the highway to see my favorite bands a couple times per month. Now, living in Chicago, I am extremely spoiled with the amount of shows that come through. Every major tour will more than likely come through one of the city’s many venues. There is a thriving independent music scene in Chicago that attracts bands from near and far to do small club shows. There is something to attend every night and even when you are selective it can be overwhelming. Compared to Kansas the difference is astronomical, it feels like something is happening.

Experiencing the music scene in Chicago has taught me a lot in retrospect about my time in Kansas. As I’ve experienced the local music scene in Chicago first hand it’s apparent to me that the most enriching experience of live music is the community it gathers. When I was younger going to shows the focal point was always who was on stage. If I went to the show with a friend we would chat after a set, but we would rarely engage with other groups. With national touring acts I feel like that’s common enough, you’re at the show to see the band not make friends. The kicker is that the bands that came to town were fleeting visitors, always coming and going somewhere else. A local show feels like the opposite. At local shows you more than likely personally know people in one or all of the bands. And as you continue to attend your favorite local band’s shows, you find a reliable cast of other fans that are usually there to see them too. It becomes a ritual to approach other regulars and at least say how good the set was and maybe ask how they’ve been since the last show. This community of regular attendees and local bands make up “the scene”.

While in Kansas, the idea of a scene truthfully never crossed my mind. I was always consuming music and dreaming of the ways that I could be involved, but I was hesitant to connect. Besides the few shows that I played, there is only one truly local show that I attended. Now, going to shows I know exactly why that one show stuck with me.

I wish I could say I went to more local shows as a kid. I think it’s good for people to see local bands because it gives you an appreciation for the bands that do it professionally. There’s nothing like seeing a group of musicians suck a big one then get off the stage with smiles on their faces. I think if I would have seen more kids my age taking a chance on stage I would have been apt to approach it earlier.

I admit that well-equipped venues and popular bands have their place, but have you ever been to a record store that has all the racks pushed against the walls to make room for a crowd? It’s a special experience to hear a band in such a raw and precarious context. Local bands prove that musicians aren’t inaccessible celebrities, but actual people with quirks. When there isn’t a stage and the band is standing on the floor with the audience it shows that performance is accessible to everyone. 

Going to shows where the bands weren’t from Kansas ultimately is where I felt the most distance growing up. In retrospect what I was lacking was a feeling of a scene. While I had a group of friends that all liked the same type of music, when we were doing the band thing we were very siloed in our efforts. We played a couple shows but didn’t find ourselves connecting to other bands. I don’t think it was from a lack of trying but just an overall unawareness of what it means to be a part of a scene.

I’m being critical of this era of my music journey because my mindset was based on a flawed assumption that nothing was happening in Kansas. Only when I moved away did I find that the local scene is made up of people who love music, and it doesn’t only exist in Chicago, but it was happening in Kansas too! My relatively recent appreciation of local music scenes revealed the interconnectedness of music not only in regional locales but around the country. I found that the bands that I was finding in my current home of Chicago have a connection to Kansas. The vibrant music scenes of Kansas City, Lawrence and Wichita were relayed to me through interviews, conversations with friends, and hours long album listening sessions. I found that I was deeply wrong when I said “Nothing happens in Kansas”. Its been an emotional discovery because it was all just around the corner from me when I was feeling disconnected.

Discovering the history of Kansas’ local music scene has recontextualized my entire musical journey. Through writing music and going to all sorts of shows I slowly developed a love for music. Knowing there were things that I missed in hindsight will always sting, but it’s heartening to hear stories from folks that were there. I found that my feeling that nothing was happening was my own lack of awareness. I’m glad I never gave up my search to connect with music. I still write and perform music and feel a personal connection with what is happening in my current home of Chicago. I hope this is a lesson to be persistent with what you love because the investment is worth it. If you feel like nothing is happening around you, I encourage you to take a closer look.

-LWYL