36 of America’s Best Independent Music Venues on Surviving and What’s Next

It’s been so long since most of us have been to a live show that even the scuzziest black hole of a bathroom sounds inviting right now. Musicians, ever-resourceful, have found workarounds during the pandemic with livestreams and distanced outdoor concerts, but the spaces themselves are important. Maybe it’s the community of listeners you find there, or the booker whose taste you trust enough to show up without even checking who’s playing. Maybe it’s the impeccable live sound, or the bartender’s heavy pour, or the raggedly charming atmosphere that would send less dedicated patrons out the door.

Live music as we know it would not exist without these weird, wonderful places and the tireless people who operate them. But as businesses that depend on being able to pack lots of people together into the same room, scrappy smaller venues have faced a particularly difficult path through the pandemic, and may have many more months of hardship ahead thanks to unpredictable reopening rules and unreliable government assistance. With all that in mind, we talked to the owners, bookers, and managers of 36 of America’s greatest independent music venues—from Brooklyn’s inclusive dance destination House of Yes to Berkeley’s DIY punk haven 924 Gilman—to see how they’ve coped over the past year, what they remember most fondly about pre-pandemic concerts, and what audiences can do to help.

Check out more of Pitchfork’s celebration of the past, present, and future of live music here.

Northeast | Southeast | Midwest | Southwest | West

Jump to: Saint Vitus | House of Yes | Baby’s All Right | S.O.B.’s | Minton’s Playhouse | 9:30 Club | Songbyrd Music House | Johnny Brenda’s | Great Scott | The Crown

Brooklyn, New York
Capacity: 250
Established: 2011
Best Known For: All strands of dark and left-of-center music

By Sam Sodomsky

Arty Shepherd and George Souleidis, co-founders of the beloved Brooklyn metal venue Saint Vitus, became friends when they started singing along to an obscure song by Swedish guitar legend Yngwie Malmsteen at their day job. Along with third co-founder—Shepherd’s childhood friend and Primitive Weapons bandmate Justin Scurti—they established Saint Vitus as a space where people could join together under the healing power of heavy music.

“We always used to say we live on the darker side of town,” Shepherd says of their shared vision. And indeed, from its all-black design to the vintage memorabilia displayed behind the bar—much of it from Shepherd’s personal collection and childhood bedroom—Saint Vitus has brought that vision to life. Over the past decade, they’ve hosted the first New York shows by breakthrough acts like Deafheaven and Pallbearer while also seeing appearances from legends, including Black Sabbath’s Tony Iommi and Geezer Butler, Megadeth, and, of course, their namesake band Saint Vitus. The legend spread fast: When Dave Grohl was looking for a New York stage for 2014’s surprise Nirvana reunion show after their Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction, the choice seemed obvious.

Shepherd says he’s as excited as anyone for Saint Vitus’s eventual comeback: “When we got closed, I fucking cried. When we reopen, I’m gonna be a fucking mess.”

Arty Shepherd: Something just clicked about the space itself. You walk in and there’s a mood to it. It is a living, breathing thing. That created an emotional connection in a lot of people’s brains. There’s something cool about it—right from us not having a sign outside—you feel like it’s yours, like you’re discovering something. When you see a heavy band there, it just makes sense.

Any time that Sannhet would play—because we were friends and I saw them get better and better. But mostly, I have favorite shows of watching other people have the best night of their life. When the Descendents played [a surprise set in 2012], the amount of people who came up and thanked me, saying it was the greatest night of their life, that’s the thing I got addicted to: being a voyeur of people having a great time, knowing that we provided this space. We made it safe. We made it cool. Everybody is working together, and I’m a more-the-merrier type person: Let’s build a scene because we’re all gonna benefit from it—and the music’s gonna benefit, which is the most important part.

His name is Gunther. We figured Iron Maiden has Eddie, Megadeth has Vic, so we’ll have Gunther! I bought him at the Thing, that junk store down the block, with the intention of displaying our shirt on him. George had the idea to put on the King Diamond makeup, and I put him in my old jeans and a Vitus shirt and eventually a Vitus sweatshirt—which people always try to steal. We had to tie him up really tight! But he fit right in that little space. That thing creeps people out so bad. It’s really dark in there, even during the day, because there are no windows. So if someone walks in while we’re just hanging out, they think someone’s standing there. I’ve seen so many people jump out of their skin.

How to support Saint Vitus: Buy some killer merch

Brooklyn, New York
Capacity: 500
Established: 2016
Best Known For: Creative club nights and you-had-to-be-there performances

By Eric Torres

During this year’s Super Bowl Halftime Show, the owners of House of Yes noticed that people were tagging the venue on Instagram. As clips of a bewildered Weeknd stumbling through a golden hall of mirrors went viral, New Yorkers had been reminded of something: trying to find a free stall in House of Yes’s gender-neutral, selfie-magnet bathroom whose walls are adorned with similar gilded mirrors. “Everybody was like, ‘When I'm looking for my friends at House of Yes at 2 a.m.,’” says the club’s marketing and cultural director Jacqui Rabkin.

The detailed, handcrafted facilities are just one glittering part of what, before lockdown, brought locals and visitors alike to House of Yes. Since its founding as an artist collective in 2007, it’s occupied three different buildings and today stands in a high-ceilinged warehouse in Bushwick. The venue’s experiential, anything-goes approach to programming has made it a haven for artists and performers of every stripe: a drag event, circus variety show, and all-night dance party could all rub shoulders on one hectic evening. The inclusive vibe and legendary parties have established House of Yes as a fixture of Brooklyn nightlife.

Jacqui Rabkin: House of Yes is such a powerful place because it really is a collective of ideas and experiences, even down to the ownership structure. It’s all about the audience, it’s all about dancing, it’s all about the music—and it’s not even about who’s on stage.

David Kiss (Digital Event Producer): Honestly, the DJ is not the focal point—the experience is. We’ve had some pretty big DJs and performers, but I think a lot of people who come to House of Yes on a typical Saturday night may not even know who’s DJing. They’re just there because they want to go to House of Yes.

Kae Burke (Co-owner): The real mascot is this polar bear, the Bear of Yes, that has always been in the venue and part of the party. It’s a giant, life-size bear. It came from Materials for the Arts, where it probably came from some window display or corporate event from years ago.

Rabkin: There are also these giant eyeballs when you enter the front room that are definitely a fan favorite. They’re these giant globes, and they light up on the inside and blink, but the blinking is never synchronized. They were a prop built for a fashion show that happened at House of Yes, and they were just gonna throw them out after. The designer happened to be connected to a staff member, and they asked if we’d like it.

Burke: Inside the venue, we’re doing whatever we can that’s still creative and allowed, like film and photo shoots. We’re doing a lot of digital programming. We have really grown our online presence into an interactive, creative engagement with people that are down for House of Yes. We do digital dance parties with aerialists and drag queens where there’s an opportunity to donate, and all those donations go to the performers. People can have a slice of what House of Yes used to be in digital form.

Rabkin: We also have a fully functioning kitchen that we’ve been able to use, so we have a program where they make food in our kitchen, and we’re giving food out. We’ve done a few holiday markets as well. Markets are not lucrative, like, at all—it’s more about using our space for local creators and community members. We’re really just using every space for whatever creative thing we can think of.

How to support House of Yes: Attend virtual events or donate directly through Patreon

Brooklyn, New York
Capacity: 280
Established: 2013
Best Known For: Small-space intimacy and cool-kid nightlife

By Quinn Moreland

From the neon rooftop sign that proclaims “ALL RIGHT” to its stage backdrop made of glass ashtrays, the booths topped with crocodile sconces, and funky 1970s wallpaper, Baby’s All Right is stuffed with character. The Williamsburg venue is “not a nose-in-the-air kind of place. Anyone can feel comfortable there,” says co-owner and music director Billy Jones. The programming reflects this attitude: over the past eight years, Baby’s has hosted everyone from the Raconteurs to Vagabon, with plenty of Drake and Rihanna-themed dance parties in between. On a typical pre-pandemic Saturday, one could spend all day there, beginning with a boozy brunch and ending with a midnight DJ set fueled by the venue’s signature Pink Baby mate slushies. Since shutting down, Baby’s has helped local bands by allowing them to use the space for practice or photoshoots. Its biggest undertaking has been BABY TV, a sliding-scale streaming site that broadcasts live shows with proceeds going to artists, the venue and its staff, and Make the Road NY.

Billy Jones: It's definitely the lights. Instagram was starting to become a thing around the time that we opened, and I don’t think we realized how much of an impact images of that wall would have on social media. It’s made out of ashtrays. Sonically it was just a terrible idea; it took a long time to make it sound good. I was sick of it right away, but it carried the message to the world pretty fast.

The one with the firemen and Denis Leary [Rescue Me] and Girls. Master of None shot an entire episode at Baby’s, the whole episode was about how Aziz Ansari had a ticket to a Father John Misty secret show at Baby’s All Right. They really nailed it, it’s pitch-perfect for what goes on there, from the lighting to the music to the dialogue.

One concert that meant a lot to me was Hailu Mergia, the Ethiopian jazz pianist. It was the first time that The New York Times came to do a review. Adrian Grenier and Heather Graham were there, dancing in the front. It was exactly what I had envisioned, recontextualizing this sort of older music in this young space. Then, out of nowhere, the fire alarm went off and the entire PA shut off. It was dark, and there was no sound, but the rhythm section just kept playing to the fire alarm. The review ended up playing into that, and it felt really special. Pharoah Sanders is another favorite. At one point he started chanting a call-and-response to the crowd: “My baby’s all right, my baby’s all right! All right! All right!” It was on our answering machine for a while. He’s played at B.B. King’s a lot, but to have him at this space with all these heads being like “This is the coolest thing that’s ever happened” was a really special moment that was exactly what I wanted to try and do with Baby’s in the first place.

How to support Baby’s All Right: Donate here.

New York, New York
Capacity: 400
Established: 1982
Best Known For: Showcasing rap stars of tomorrow

By Isabelia Herrera

For decades, you knew you were having a good night in New York City if you landed at S.O.B.’s. Maybe you hit up a GHE20GOTH1K party, sweating until 4 a.m. alongside club kids, hypebeasts, or someone from the House of LaBeija doing an effortless death drop. If you got lucky, you might have even caught a set from some baby-faced hip-hop star in the making, likely playing their first sold-out show in the city. A packed gig at the downtown Manhattan venue has become a career-defining milestone: Kanye West, Kendrick Lamar, A$AP Rocky, and dozens of other rappers have counted S.O.B.’s shows as milestones on their ascents to fame.

But long before it was a hip-hop mecca, S.O.B.’s—aka Sounds of Brazil—was breaking ground in other ways: It was a catalyst for artists across the African diaspora. Founded in 1982 by owner Larry Gold, the venue was originally a Brazilian dance club, but later expanded its focus to showcase the sounds and styles coming out of Haiti, Cuba, Africa, Puerto Rico, and beyond, like bossa nova, salsa, zydeco, Afrobeat, and more. Legends like Celia Cruz and Tito Puente regularly graced the stage in the early ’80s.

Describing the locale’s ongoing mission, Gold says, “We will always bring music from different cultures, different languages, different rhythms to a city that’s known as the music capital of the world.”

Larry Gold: One of the star concerts was Fela Kuti’s last U.S. appearance. He brought in risers—it was just a classic show. Fela represented a new genre of music that still lives on today. And the first time I brought artists like Gilberto Gil from Brazil to the U.S. was pretty amazing. The venue started as a Brazilian club, but we realized pretty early on we couldn’t make it just on Brazilian music, so we did a series: Africa Meets Brazil. There was a time when all of these African artists were coming over to the States for the first time, too.

I laid off my entire staff, including myself. That was a cold, hard decision, but it was the best decision I could have made, because everyone was able to collect unemployment immediately, before it became a tedious ride.

I’m not going to open until we can do at least 75 percent capacity. It is impossible to do so financially; it doesn’t make sense. I do not want to police 100 people to make sure that they’re six feet apart. I’ve taken as many loans as I can get and I’m waiting for a federal grant. Assuming all of that does come through, I plan on doing a brand new opening with a new sound system, new lights, new décor. So S.O.B.’s will be 39 years old, but it will be a new 39.

We’ve been doing hip-hop for 30-odd years. Most venues didn’t touch it until the last decade, which I don’t want to go into for different reasons–more political than anything else. But that’s who we are.

How to support S.O.B.’s: Buy merch and check out their livestreams

New York, New York
Capacity: 120
Established: 1938
Best Known For: Arguably, bebop was invented here

By Hubert Adjei-Kontoh

Founded by saxophonist Henry Minton as a place for musicians to grab a meal and relax after shows—at the time, they were allowed to perform clubs but not linger—Minton’s became a testing ground for jazz artists, a place where regulars Dizzy Gillespie and Charlie Parker could put younger players’ feet to the fire. In Miles Davis’s autobiography Miles, he calls Minton’s “the music laboratory for bebop” and says he learned more there than at Juilliard.

Today, Minton’s still remains a place where one can see both emerging artists and jazz’s leading lights. That diversity can be seen in its pre-pandemic lineup which featured old favorites like Andy Bey and new ones like Vanisha Gould. While the pandemic has forced Minton’s to make changes (shows continue but tickets aren’t allowed to be sold), it seems to be weathering the storm gracefully.

Raphael Benavides (Owner): Monty Alexander played here. Wynton Marsalis played, and what I like about him is the way that he told stories when he performed; he engaged the audience with stories about a song or a moment that he lived. Cassandra Wilson also performed an amazing concert here as well.

The history; the legacy. When you walk into Minton’s, the energy is such that you will get goosebumps—it transports you. You feel as if you’ve gone back in time.

Teddy Hill and Henry Minton created a house band that consisted of Thelonious Monk and Dizzy Gillespie. In the ’40s, Charlie Parker and Charlie Christian played in that band as well.

We’ve been extremely creative in order to survive. For example, during the pandemic, there was no way to do music inside. So I decided to build a stage on the sidewalk, and so for a year we’ve been doing all our activities outside. To keep it soundproof, we’ve used silent disco headsets. We tweaked them in the way so that sound from the musicians would go from the mixer to the headsets.

There is this kid who is up-and-coming who is amazing. His name is Benny Benack III, and Jenn Jade. Oh my god, she’s a total entertainer! There is also this amazing blues guitar player, Solomon Hicks.

How to support Milton’s Playhouse: Donate to musicians

Washington, D.C.
Capacity: 1,200
Established: 1980
Best Known For: The best staff in the biz

By Noah Yoo

Originally located at 930 F Street, the old 9:30 was an intimate 200-capacity space. Those lucky enough to have caught a show or grabbed a beer there might remember the distinctive smell (some might call it a stench) that followed audiences home on their clothes. By 1996, when the owners upgraded to the current location on V Street—a building that had once housed a club owned by Duke Ellington—9:30 had established itself as a hotspot for alternative music, a stepping stone for rock and punk legends like Nirvana, Bad Brains, and D.C. natives Fugazi.

When the club is open, it hosts 400 shows a year, meaning on any given weekend, there are two concerts a night. Over the decades, it’s become an artist favorite: When Radiohead got rained out at the Tibetan Freedom Festival in 1998, they chose the 9:30 Club to play a show for their faithful fans, with Michael Stipe—who came up playing the original club with R.E.M.—in tow.

Donna Westmoreland (Club Operator): I was hired as the bar manager at the first venue; my interview was at 11:30 at night in the cavernous basement of the club. It was a time when music touring was ramping up and there was a lot of opportunity for growth. Nobody majored in “music business” back then—if you had curiosity and some sort of acumen, you could figure it out.

Audrey Schaefer (Communications Director): At the time, there was a local D.C. band called R.E.M., who were coming up at the same time as this other outfit out of Georgia called R.E.M. This led to confusion when they were selling tickets to both shows, so they decided to have a band playoff. Both acts came to the club to perform and the audience got to pick who got to keep the name. You already know which one won. But not only that, the winner got to rename the other band. And so the D.C. band was renamed Egoslavia.

Westmoreland: The best thing is when the lights come down and the band goes on stage—no matter the band—because that’s the culmination of the efforts of everyone in the room. The show’s been booked, tickets have been sold, production is finished, soundcheck is done. The artist is excited and ready to go, and the audience is, too. It’s a magic moment.

I’ve maintained since all of this happened that the future of live music is not in streaming—and there’s a lot of people who’ve spent a lot of energy trying to convince us that it is. I believe that when this is over and people can experience that magic moment and bring all that pent-up energy, they’ll see the future is live. It’ll be okay.

How to support 9:30 Club: Donate to support employees

Washington, D.C.
Capacity: 200
Established: 2015
Best Known For: Records upstairs, parties downstairs

By Noah Yoo

In just six years, Songbyrd Music House has proven itself as an incubator for up-and-coming bands looking to gain a foothold in Washington, D.C. When hooky New Zealand indie rockers the Beths were on their first U.S. tour in the fall of 2018, they impressed during a set at the venue’s low-key, donation-based area situated next to the cafe and record store. Word got around town fast, and just a few months later, the band sold out the main room downstairs, dubbed the Byrd Cage. “All of a sudden, they’ve captivated 200 people in a single city pretty quickly,” attests Alisha Edmonson who owns the Songbyrd with her partner Joe Lapan. The venue has hosted plenty of local bands in addition to national touring acts including Daniel Caesar, Ryley Walker, and the late Lil Peep.

Songbyrd earns its title as a full-fledged “Music House”: Lapan and Edmonson wanted to build something all-encompassing, combining their love of records with the kind of community that can only form around live music. This versatility allowed them to adapt quickly last year, as they started hosting livestreams, outdoor shows, and even socially distanced movie nights. At this point, their record shop is open, and Edmonson and Lapan are itching to once again introduce D.C. music lovers to their favorite new acts.

Alisha Edmonson: Khalid, for sure. The contract came across my desk almost a year before the show, and the guarantee [fee for the artist] was pretty high. I looked him up, and he had like 20,000 views on YouTube. I went to our booker and said, “This artist is amazing, but this feels risky—how are we going to sell this out and pay for the guarantee?” But by the time he got to us in January 2017, people were in the venue crying. Soon after, he was on Fallon.

Joe Lapan: We’ve had other situations where the artist blows up and they want to move it to a bigger venue, but Khalid kept his date. It was great.

Lapan: In some ways we've all gotten used to being closed, in a way—which sucks—but then all of a sudden it actually feels like things are gonna start happening kind of quickly. Which is good, but also a challenge.

Edmonson: As anyone in the business knows, venues aren’t like bars or restaurants, in that you can’t just flip the switch back on. Touring shows are the bread and butter of most venues, sprinkled in with local artists, but for that to happen effectively it takes every city being coordinated, and it also really takes being at full capacity. So the financial sense of having the venue open to get a touring band that can only play to 25 percent capacity is unclear.

Lapan: The moment when I’m at the show and realize, “Oh, they just did half the set and I haven’t thought about COVID once.”

How to support Songbyrd: Buy records and merch from their online store

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
Capacity: 250
Established: 2006
Best Known For: Indie rockers on the rise

By Amy Phillips

“When I was first making music in my house, the dream wasn’t to play in a huge arena,” the War on Drugs’ Adam Granduciel told The Philadelphia Inquirer last year. “It was to play Johnny Brenda’s.” Indeed, Philly’s rise as a white-hot indie rock epicenter over the past decade-and-a-half is due in no small part to the venue, located in the city’s Fishtown neighborhood. The War on Drugs, Waxahatchee, Kurt Vile, Alex G, Spirit of the Beehive, Moor Mother, Hop Along (whose Frances Quinlan once worked in the restaurant): The list of Philly acts that have come up playing in front of the stage’s signature beaded curtains is staggering. Locals cite JB’s great sound and clean, cozy, musician-friendly atmosphere as what sets it apart from your average dive bar or DIY venue—not to mention the signature burgers and a wide selection of local beers. Fortunately, the bar and restaurant have remained open during the pandemic, keeping Johnny Brenda’s afloat until live music returns.

Barrett Lindgren (Talent Buyer): I usually would go into the office around noon to start answering emails. Things don’t really start rolling for the venue until four or five, and then we’ll have load-in, have the showrunner and front of house come in. Before the show, we’ll listen to the bands, talk about the show, see where they’ve been, what other bands they’ve been on tour with, if we have friends in common—that’s a really big part of the shows for us: making sure that bands feel welcomed, like someone at the venue actually cares that they’re going to be there.

Very different. I pretty much don’t leave the house. I watch documentaries and read a lot. I answer a couple of emails a day. Over the summer, things got really quiet, but it never fully stopped. I’ve been in contact with a lot of the same agents that we’ve worked with for years, just kicking shows down the road. We’re now on round six or seven or eight. I worked at Johnny Brenda’s for seven years as an assistant talent buyer, but I just took over as head booker at the beginning of 2020. And then pretty promptly started living in my house exclusively.

Fontaines D.C. was a really wonderful one. Duster was another. Hop Along’s record release show was a beautiful show. Screaming Females, New Year's Eve 2013 into 2014. billy woods and Moor Mother was another really special one—that was also right before lockdown.

We’ve been really fortunate in the realm of small, independent venues in that we have the bar and restaurant to keep us afloat. That’s the only reason we’ve been okay. The basic pitch for independent venues is that these rooms are increasingly unique. That makes them all the more worth saving and supporting. My hope is that we’ll see a resurgence of interest in independent and like DIY venues and media on the other side of this as people seek out something that feels more personal or local or curated, just not algorithmically generated.

How to support Johnny Brenda’s: Grab some take-out

Boston, Massachusetts
Capacity: 275
Established: 2004
Best Known For: Being the home base for Allston Rock City

By Maura Johnston

Boston’s Allston neighborhood has long been known as “Allston Rock City,” but it took Great Scott for the neighborhood to have a rock club it truly called home. The bar at the corner of Commonwealth Avenue and Harvard Avenue opened in 1976, but it began its life as Allston's premiere rock venue in 2004, when Carl Lavin took over booking duties and began bringing in touring acts like the New Jersey indie lifers The Wrens. Since then, the club has served as a home base for Boston-beloved bands like Speedy Ortiz and Pile while also welcoming bigger names like MGMT, Hannibal Burress, and Charli XCX to its stage.

Last spring, citing the pandemic, owner Frank Strenk rejected a long-term lease, and Great Scott shut down. Lavin took over the club’s name, intellectual property, and liquor license, and began a hunt for a new space—one that took him a few blocks away, to a former train depot that had housed a local pizza chain until last July. A crowdfunding campaign, facilitated by the investment intermediary MainVest, raised around $325,000 for Great Scott. With that money and some additional financing, Lavin is hoping to renovate the Allston Depot into a new home for Boston’s music community. "I think that in the absence of a plague,” Lavin says, “had the owner just decided to retire last year and we tried to make this move, it would already be a done deal and we’d probably already be having shows."

Carl Lavin: It’s almost too perfect. The building is on the National Historic Register, so it can’t be demolished for a six- or seven-story condo. There’s good parking. It used to be a train station, and trains still go by all the time, so you’re not going to get noise-sensitive neighbors. And it’s still in Allston, which is super important. Allston was such a part of Great Scott’s identity, and the idea of just packing it up and moving into [neighboring cities] Cambridge or Somerville just didn’t seem right. If we’re going to preserve Great Scott, it has to be in Allston.

Absolutely. One of the things I've been saying to the contractor and the architect is that we have the [physical] space to make it intimate, which almost sounds contradictory. We can keep what Great Scott was very much in mind as we do the design and the buildout. Having said that, it’s hard to know when everyone might feel 100% comfortable being that intimate again with strangers. The idea is just to make sure that we continue to have that great sound, great sight lines, great staff. From a design standpoint, [the new space] is a little too wide to replicate the kind of tunnel effect that Great Scott had. But we can do our best to make sure that it feels full when it's not, and it feels awesome when it is.

You didn’t need to make plans to see somebody you know; you probably would see someone you know, and even if you didn’t, you’re going to feel like you’re hanging out with people. You’re at your regular spot, even if it’s the first time. That’s definitely a credit to the staff and management and ownership, and it was in place when I first started booking shows there.

Before it was called Great Scott, the bar was called Brandy’s, and it had a sign that said, “Brandy’s: Where incredible friendships begin.” Great Scott has had many different lives as far as the clientele and the programming goes. But that thread was constant throughout it. There are people who exist because their parents met at Great Scott, you know?

How to support Great Scott: Donate to the staff GoFundMe

Baltimore, Maryland
Capacity: 385
Established: 2013
Best Known For: Rising local musicians and Korean-fusion snacks

By Puja Patel

Anchored in the purposefully eclectic and experimental spirit of the Station North neighborhood of Baltimore, The Crown has become an institution that thrives on cultural inclusivity. A replica of an ancient royal Korean headdress that adorns the venue’s staircase explains the name and hints at its origin story. In the early to mid-2010s, as the city strictly policed smaller DIY venues and glossy development plans began to encroach on warehouse spaces, a couple of Korean restaurants and karaoke bars became new musical safe havens. “The building we’re in now, Hyundai Plaza, was originally kind of a Korean mini-mall,” says general manager Miki Young, noting that it’s the building that sparked an informal “Koreatown” in Baltimore. (Now, however, the silver signage of Hyundai Plaza is probably more useful to college students trying to find the doors of The Crown.)

During a normal run, the multi-roomed venue hosts sweaty dance parties, events curated by rising local artists, band showcases, poetry readings, karaoke nights, and a grab-bag of other festivities. They serve bulgogi nachos, Korean fries, and make soju cocktails by the batch, an extension of the venue’s restaurant core. And when I ask Miki what overarching theme might unite The Crown’s many moving parts, he says that the baseline principle is that guests are encouraged to be themselves. “It’s a place where people can dress however they want, or be however they want. It’s for everyone.”

Miki Young: There was a Korean restaurant called San Soo Kab San that was in the area for a while. They had this little karaoke bar in the back run by a Korean man in his early 30s. I was going there around 2009 or 2010, and right before it closed a few years later, a bunch of [Johns] Hopkins and MICA [Maryland Institute College of Art] students started going because it was under the radar, and they served alcohol until late. At the time, I was an organizer and promoter for a bunch of underground shows—house and warehouse shows—and there was an event that was too large for the house that it was supposed to happen at. I had become friends with the owner and was like, “Hey, I have this event that needs to be moved. Would you be willing to let us use the back space of the restaurant?”

The capacity of that space was 60 and we had 100 people come out, so it was packed and the owners loved it. They were like, “Would you want to do this again?” And that kind of started how we got into business. Once that space became too small, like a year and a half later, they showed me the space in Hyundai Plaza that was recently vacated and also had a Korean karaoke bar upstairs. My boss at the time, the owner of San Soo Kab San, was like, “Hey, let’s move this over there.” At the time I was still helping her run the restaurant and the venue side of that one, and so I was just like, “I can’t take it on myself, but I can probably get some people to help.” I reached out to people I knew from MICA who were running a gallery called Open Space, and that’s kind of how The Crown came to be.

The person who started running it was Brendan Sullivan—he set up all the early shows. It started off with more of the Dan Deacon and MICA kind of crowd. And at first he also had a few DJ nights, with DJ Mills or some of the vinyl DJs doing more experimental or house related sets. Once I came over and started to help Brendan with booking, we started introducing DJs more.

So my boss took out the PPP to get us back open in September because getting back open costs a lot. We have to get all new food, drink stuff—getting containers and everything else. Then there's paying the staff. Luckily, we got a lot of help from the community, Station North—we partnered with them, and Red Bull also helped us a lot. We also reached out to some contacts who helped get us some grant money. But that really all went into the infrastructure for social distancing and a lot of the things we needed to get open. Abdu Ali, and Qué Pequeño, who throws 808, ended up having residencies at The Crown.

I think for a lot of people in Baltimore it would feel pretty amazing for them to have Trillnatured do VERSION with Kotic Couture, maybe at the same time as Abdu Ali’s party. Those two parties are the biggest parties that we've ever had, and have lines out the door most of the time. As far as residencies go, that would be it. A lot of people come to The Crown for comedy, too. There was a comedy festival that happened there for two years. I would love to have that back because it involved a lot of venues, which was really great. It would be cool to have an event like that as a comeback, so that it's like we're all celebrating together instead of just as a single space.

How to support The Crown: Order from their menu online.

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Jump to: The Pinhook | The Orange Peel | Cat’s Cradle | Masquerade | Gramps | The 40 Watt | The Basement East | The 5 Spot | Tipitina’s

Durham, North Carolina
Capacity: 250
Established: 2008
Best Known For: Packed-out dance parties and boisterous drag shows

By Allison Hussey

The Pinhook sits near the middle of downtown Durham with a panoramic back-patio view that collapses the city’s past and present: a neon-bull billboard, luxuriously repurposed tobacco warehouses, a minor-league baseball stadium, a gleaming performing arts center, a long strip of train tracks, and the county jail. The midsize club is a crucial node of the same regional scene that launched Merge Records, whose present-day offices are a few blocks away. From the venue’s founding, Kym Register has steered the Pinhook with a queer-friendly mandate—the space had gender-neutral bathrooms by 2012, well before the topic had become a point of mainstream conversation. The Pinhook is, in the best of times, more than a rock club, equally likely to fill its calendar with drag shows, dance parties, and letter-writing nights for incarcerated people.

At the front of the folk-rock outfit Loamlands, Register was on the road just a few weeks before the country shut down last March. “I miss tour so much,” they say. They’ve navigated the last year with a patchwork of creative solutions, including loans, grants, live-streamed performances, virtual karaoke, and online classes that have covered gear how-tos and drag makeup tutorials. A Patreon page goes a long way in covering rent, but a colleague’s suggestion to get involved with the National Independent Venue Association has helped significantly, Register says. They’ve worked closely with other local venues, like Carrboro’s famed Cat’s Cradle, as a way to keep the bigger community afloat.

As protesters supporting the Movement for Black Lives gathered downtown and at the Durham County Jail last summer, Register offered the Pinhook to their organizer friends as a hub for medical supplies and a convenient place to store cumbersome sign-making materials. Despite the compounding stress of running a small venue, Register is already reimagining how they can continue expanding the Pinhook’s ability to be a creative home for anyone who needs it.

Kym Register: We’ve gotten some grants from [the City of] Durham. I got the PPP—that was weird. It’s a whole awkward process for venues or service industries to get. This NIVA grant is going to be extremely helpful. It gives me so much hope that I don’t have to look to next month and wonder if we’re going to close or not. If we get this grant, we have a cushion, and I don’t have to pay it back. Instead of stressing all the time, I can spend my time making my venue safer and also considering what access and accessibility look like on shows for people in the future.

Friends are like, “You can’t close because what’s keeping me alive is thinking about how sweaty I’m gonna get and how low I’m gonna drop it on the dancefloor.” Not being able to walk in that space and seeing a million sweaty badasses, queer weirdos, experimental musicians—it’s just been hard. I’m excited for whatever that looks like for it to come back. I’m also excited that, now that we understand what access looks like a little better, I feel good bringing a lot of that stuff into people’s homes if they can’t come.

I’m non-binary, and the Pinhook, first and foremost, has tried to support queer folk. We have queer, non-binary, trans bartenders and employees. It’s about prioritizing our people and making them feel safe. What you do, as a space, invites people in or tells them that they are not welcome there.

How to support The Pinhook: Subscribe to the venue’s Patreon

Asheville, North Carolina
Capacity: 1,100
Established: 2002
Best Known For: Shows by world-renowned artists in the heart of Asheville

By Eric Torres

The building that The Orange Peel occupies in downtown Asheville has lived many lives: It was a roller rink, a bowling alley, a series of R&B and soul clubs, a coffee shop, and in 1980, they even ran the federal census out of it. In 2000, its current owners leased and renovated the space with an eye toward its impressive music history (one of the soul clubs was also named The Orange Peel), and for the past two decades, it’s been the city’s premier independent music venue.

Bob Dylan, Lauryn Hill, the Beastie Boys, and Lou Reed are just some of the talents whose posters and ticket stubs fill shadow boxes that climb up to the 14-foot ceilings in the venue’s foyer. There’s also a reserved seating section with walls shellacked in newspaper clippings, laminates, and more ticket stubs, a mini-history of the locale’s development over the years into a cultural landmark. Since the pandemic, The Orange Peel has gone dark, but the owners have joined the National Independent Venue Association (NIVA), where a new sense of community has blossomed. “We’ve put together a big network of independent venue owners and promoters in the Carolinas, and we do advocacy efforts together,” says marketing and special events director Liz Tallent. “Our work has shifted to making sure we get the word out to all the independent venues and promoters and help people find resources.”

Liz Tallent: We’re right downtown, so we’re a fixture of life. Asheville is a city of about 100,000, and our county is more like 300,000 or so. It’s not a huge city, but even before Asheville was on all the “must visit” lists and blowing up as a tourist destination, the Orange Peel was bringing really big acts to town. I think that’s always been really cool for people in Asheville to have a legitimate music club. We created quite a draw for bands to come and play what otherwise would be kind of an off-the-beaten-track city.

Jeff Santiago (Operations Manager): The day to day is just trying to figure out what we need to do to take care of the building. We did some streaming shows at first, but now we’re gearing up. We got a state mandate a couple weeks ago that said bars and venues could reopen at 30 percent capacity, which came much earlier than we anticipated. Towards the end of April we’ll be doing some very, very limited cap shows, which won’t be sustainable for the long haul, but hopefully they’ll be stepping stones to getting back to something feasible for the future. It feels really good to be booking again and reaching out to artists. We’re mainly looking locally and regionally, but we’re lucky to have some national artists in the area who are agreeing to step up and perform with us too.

Tallent: Smashing Pumpkins did their East Coast residency at the Orange Peel in 2007, when the band had reunited after breaking up, and they did nine nights over two weeks. They decided to do it where all the tickets were 20 bucks flat, so people from all over the country were traveling to get them. Every night Billy Corgan would go around our downtown and give comp tickets to kids. He would be like, “Here you go. You’re on the list for tonight.” And so I’d sit at my press table, and there would be some skateboarder kid that would come up and be like “Um, Billy Corgan said I’m on the guestlist?” That was really cool.

How to support The Orange Peel: Buy merch or donate directly through Paypal.

Carrboro, North Carolina
Capacity: 750
Established: 1969
Best Known For: Supportive and welcoming community

By Quinn Moreland

Cat’s Cradle has hosted performances by everyone from Nirvana to John Mayer, Gillian Welch to Lizzo. Located in Carrboro, North Carolina, it’s a place where locals and students from UNC-Chapel Hill come to enjoy a night of music and a pint or two from one of the area’s many breweries. “The venue has been around for so long that our audience knows us and they feel comfortable — it’s always a welcoming and supportive crowd,” says Frank Heath, who has owned the venue since 1986. The Cradle community is so strong that last summer a group of artists including Superchunk and The Mountain Goats contributed to a compilation album to benefit the venue. While its doors have been closed to the public, it’s presented livestream concerts for artists like H.C. McEntire and local School of Rock bands. Heath says that while he’s excited to welcome back mainstays like Southern Culture on the Skids, he’s just as excited to host all of the new bands that have been born over the past year.

Joan Baez, Warren Zevon, Todd Rundgren. And then there’s people like Lizzo, Macklemore, and John Mayer, who played back in the early 2000s. We get a cross section, but in the indie world there’s everyone from Pavement to Superchunk, Built to Spill, and Elliott Smith.

The most historic one was probably Nirvana. We had a lot of shows in the early nineties that were bands that went on to fame and fortune, like Soundgarden and Pearl Jam. Also, Bad Brains played a show and didn't show up until 2:30 in the morning, and then they played for 20 minutes and left.

I don't think our bathrooms are a cut above. We tried to put as many toilets [as possible] in the women’s room. I don't want to put myself out on a limb and say that they're okay, because some people will not think that’s accurate. But I think compared to some clubs they're okay, let’s put it that way.

How to support Cat’s Cradle: Buy merch.

Atlanta, Georgia
Capacity: 2,300 across three stages
Established: 1989
Best Known For: Supporting both rising hip-hop and rock talent as well as national stars

By Jewel Wicker

Since Masquerade opened 32 years ago, its three stages—dubbed Purgatory, Hell, and Heaven—have hosted Atlanta locals including OutKast, Goodie Mob, Playboi Carti, and 21 Savage, along with alt-rock royalty like Nine Inch Nails, Sheryl Crow, Radiohead, and Nirvana. It was the venue’s long-standing relationship with the city’s music lovers that got it through a 2016 move from its original location inside a historic building on North Avenue, which is scheduled to be turned into high-end office spaces, to its current spot in the Underground Atlanta entertainment district. The new locale’s versatility has allowed it to host concerts featuring rising Atlanta rappers such as Kenny Mason, and interview sessions with 2 Chainz, as well as outdoor events such as Everyday People, the traveling daytime dance party created to celebrate Black music and culture.

At this point, like so many other venues, the Masquerade hasn't hosted a live show in a year. Talent buyers Greg Green and Elena de Soto say the Masquerade had about 45 staff members at the beginning of the pandemic; today, it only employs about five people.

Greg Green: We haven’t felt comfortable or been able to figure out a scenario where it makes sense financially. We’re hanging our hat on the vaccine becoming distributed widely, and music fans and touring artists becoming comfortable enough to get back out. We see the light at the end of the tunnel.

We had two or three livestream shows per week over the course of the summer and fall, and those are generally set up so venues can get a portion of the proceeds for ticket sales that they drive. We’ve also stepped up our merch game by coming up with a number of new items: shirts, socks, Christmas ornaments, shot glasses. Our fanbase has been super supportive in that regard.

The coolest thing that we have right now are handmade guitars that were made from wooden stairway boards salvaged from the old location. Someone made iconic guitar designs modeled after a Les Paul, a Stratocasters, and a Flying V.

We’ve got an extremely full calendar for late summer or fall. Most of the shows have not been announced or put on sale yet, but once the flag drops, you’ll see hundreds go on sale. I don’t know if we’ll be able to keep up.

How to support Masquerade: Buy merch and donate to the staff’s GoFundMe

Miami, Florida
Capacity: 550
Established: 2012
Best Known For: Cocktails, pizza, and love

By Jessica Gentile

Miami’s Wynwood neighborhood now offers seemingly endless nightlife options — but outside of a few dance-focused clubs, like Bardot and the Electric Pickle (both now closed), there weren’t many places to go hear music before Gramps arrived in 2012. “The first week we opened we had Araab Muzik and Kool Keith,” owner Adam Gersten tells me. “At the time, the place was just a gravel lot.” These days, Gramps is a bar during the day and hosts indie bands and underground DJs at night. It’s the kind of place a tourist might come to from the airport looking for a margarita but leave having seen Otto Von Schirach, a random comedian, and a full drag show. “It’s my subtropical way of doing things,” says Gersten.

We’ve had Sean Paul. We’ve had a lot of comedy — Hannibal Burress and Michelle Buteau. There was like a week where Gallagher came and just wouldn’t leave. He kept showing up. And then a lot of bands: Temples, the Drums, Boys Noize. We had !!! (Chk Chk Chk), and it had been a long time since they played, so it was packed. We just had Major Lazer do their live-stream for Save Our Stages. There were 10 people there, but it was a show.

We have great bathrooms. When we were designing the place, we designed it around the bathrooms. They’re big. They don’t look like dungeons with backed-up plumbing. Our bathrooms say, “We care about you as a customer. Thank you for coming. And feel free to use these fine facilities.”

We’re able to keep everyone employed, which is great, but we’re down tremendously in sales. We’re operating at less than 50 percent capacity. Outdoors only. We keep all our doors open and giant fans running. We aren’t doing any nightclub activities. There’s no dancing. It sucks. I think there are a lot of people who want something more, and they will maybe go to other places, and that’s cool. I get it. But we also have our people who are always going to come here and support us. We have a built-in crowd.

The dream coming back to life line up will be DJ Le Spam playing two back-to-back sets of 45s. One set of American RnB and Soul and one that’s a Latin historical overview. All dance bangers. I would also get one or two up and coming awesome electronic guys that would play at Synth Battle to do some bassy electro-y kind of stuff and I would get Soul Oddity to play live. Get the whole band back together!

How to support Gramps: Buy some merch

Athens, Georgia
Capacity: 500
Established: 1979
Best Known For: Being a bastion of college rock

By Marc Hogan

After starting out in a loft lit by the single bulb that gives this legendary indie launching pad its name, The 40 Watt is about to celebrate 30 years in its current location at the red-dirt heart of the University of Georgia’s hometown of Athens. For all of those three decades, the venue has been steered by the two-woman team of owner Barrie Buck and talent buyer Velena Vego, who figures she has booked more than 6,000 shows. The 40 Watt has played host to Athens’ famous homegrown talents—from Pylon, the B-52s, and R.E.M. to the Drive-By Truckers, Of Montreal, and Neutral Milk Hotel—as well as early performances from Pavement, Sufjan Stevens, M.I.A., the Strokes, and Kings of Leon. Heavyweight stars like Snoop Dogg have also sought out the 40 Watt’s Southern hospitality for rare club appearances, too. In fact, before live music shut down due to the pandemic, rock titans Foo Fighters were set to play The 40 Watt last April amid their 25th-anniversary arena tour. “We’d already booked it, advanced it, and bought the liquor for it,” says Vego. “Hopefully they’ll come back.”

Velena Vego: It looks like a high-school gym and then inside it’s Christmas lights and stars, so it always looks like a prom. If you've seen that horror movie Carrie, when she gets the blood poured over her, that's the vibe at our club all the time. You just walk in and nobody really even has to decorate it.

Nirvana in 1991. I got to kidnap them and take them over to Peter Buck’s house. They were huge R.E.M. fans so they wanted to see Peter’s record collection. It was right before Nevermind broke, and I had seen the band about a year and a half before at the Masquerade in Atlanta, so I was a super fan. Kurt wrote something on our wall. Someone cut it out and stole it for many years, and then left it at Michael Stipe’s house, and Michael gave it back to us.

Lo Talker. They’ve lived here for a few years now and have a new record coming out. I absolutely adore them. They’re in the world of the Band of Horses or My Morning Jacket, but they’re original. Just across the board, they have everything: great guitarist, great singer, great lyrics, great music.

How to support The 40 Watt: Buy merch and donate to the staff’s GoFundMe

Nashville, Tennessee
Capacity: 575
Established: 2015
Best Known For: Being East Nashville’s premiere room, run by two of the scene’s most beloved figures

By Marissa R. Moss

When the pandemic descended, The Basement East (aka “The Beast”) in Nashville was already contending with another problem: a deadly tornado that hit the neighborhood just days before lockdown last March. The storm swept straight through the club, crumbling its white walls in a few terrifying seconds—but leaving its famous “I Believe In Nashville” mural intact. Since opening in April 2015, the sibling venue to The Basement across town had become a mainstay played by everyone from Alice Cooper to Kris Kristofferson to John Prine, while still making room for smaller but beloved local acts (especially in the form of a tribute night). Owners Mike Grimes and Dave Brown have spent the past year vacillating between pandemic relief and rebuilding, which finally culminated in The Beast’s (distanced, masked, limited-attendance) reopening at the beginning of March—a cathartic, emotional cap to a painful 12 months. “We are not just hoping for a light at the end of the tunnel,” says Brown. “We're actually standing, looking into that light.”

Dave Brown: Probably the Bernie Sanders benefit the night the tornado tore the building down.

Mike Grimes: That was pretty fucking historic. Honestly, so many things conspired for it to not be worse than it was. We're lucky that show was over by 11:30 pm. By the time the tornado hit, the only people in the building were the six employees.

Brown: As far as historic, maybe Cage the Elephant [in 2015]

Grimes: Within six weeks or so of opening, we got calls from Matt and Brad [Shultz] saying, “Hey, what are you doing next Tuesday?” They said they wanted to come play. Honestly, I think it helped put us on the map. People were like, “This new room is cool.” It set a tone.

Brown: The one that was really poignant was John Prine [in April of 2018]. Prine could sell out much bigger venues, but we worked out a scenario at Grimey’s [the record store co-owned by Grimes], where if you bought his new record you could get a ticket to the show. It was a full-on 90-minute Prine show. It was phenomenal. I’m getting choked up just thinking about it.

Brown: Paradise!

Grimes: Similar to other venues: well-orchestrated mayhem. Everyone doing their thing, booking stuff, the band showing up earlier than they are supposed to because they want to start using the green room. You take every little curveball as it comes.

Grimes: We’ll have to re-familiarize ourselves, as I’m sure new bands have sprouted up, and probably some have broken up. But I’m into Styrofoam Winos—they did a stream from Grimey’s, and it was so charming. A freshly new band.

Brown: The first thing I thought of was the clock that was on the wall when the tornado of 1998 hit [and destroyed the building]. The clock stopped at exactly the time it hit.

How to support The Basement East: Buy a T-shirt or hoodie—including one with a cheeky tornado design

Nashville, Tennessee
Capacity: 85
Established: 2003
Best Known For: Being an eclectic spot for breaking talent

By Marissa R. Moss

When The 5 Spot reopened last March after a tornado, co-owner Travis Collinsworth looked around at the crowd the first night back and felt a nagging sense of impending doom. “I remember thinking, ‘This isn’t good,’” says Collinsworth, who runs the East Nashville club with Todd Sherwood and William Verheide. “We shut our doors prior to any mandates.” That’s the kind of neighborly gesture that comes easy to The 5 Spot, which has become symbiotic with the culture of the city over its nearly two-decade run. The club has hosted everything from infamously sweaty Motown Monday dance parties to Derek Hoke’s Two Dollar Tuesdays, where a banjo-fronted country band might be followed by a punk trio. It’s the sort of venue that draws patrons who are there not to see a favorite band, but rather, one they’ve never heard of before. Says Collinsworth, who’s been keeping the 5 Spot afloat with the help of live-streams that he hopes to continue post-COVID, “I always refer to what we do as never-never-land.”

Travis Collinsworth: Lady Gaga [in October 2016, for her Dive Bar Tour]. We had a fourth partner, Mr. Verheide’s wife Diane, who at the time had a few months to live. There was a kerfuffle as to whether Diane’s wheelchair could be on the premises during rehearsal, because she couldn’t be there during the show, and when Gaga got wind of this, she spent 25 minutes with Diane, just an incredible human being. Two or three days later, Todd says, “Lady Gaga is on her way back.” She gets there, hugs all around, and the first thing she asked was, “Is Diane here? I’m writing a new song that is all about overcoming adversity, I’d love to hear her input.” I gave her Diane’s email address, and they corresponded over the next couple months until Diane passed away, with a bouquet of roses and one of our napkins that Lady Gaga had kissed for her.

It’s one of those very unique places that is just totally Nashville. We don’t cater to any specific genre. If someone does a big show, they might pop up at our venue afterhours to jam a bit [like Margo Price or Hayes Carll have]. We have our normal local bands, but you never know what’s going to happen. Our locals might be superstars.

That’s an easy one. A dear friend and a great drummer named Ben Eyestone fell ill, and it ended up being cancer. It was treatable and Ben was so optimistic, but an infection set in and he passed away. We have his favorite leather jacket framed and lit up on our wall. Above that, we have an American flag that his cousin, a pilot, flew on a mission in Afghanistan and sent us. Unless we have a power outage, that light never goes off.

One of my favorite artists, Jason Eskridge. We have a Sunday circled on the calendar as a target for reopening, and he does an event called Sunday Night Soul. We are really hoping that by the end of the summer, we can ring it in with a Sunday Night Soul. That would be so redeeming—that we made it through a year and a half being closed [at 85 capacity, the venue is too small to open reasonably at reduced numbers], and somehow here we are, just trying to navigate.

How to support The 5 Spot: Donate to the community fund for the venue and staff or catch one of the pay-what-you-will livestreams

New Orleans, Louisiana
Capacity: 800
Established: 1977
Best Known For: Keeping the funk alive

By Anna Gaca

There’s nothing New Orleanians love more than a local institution, and one of the longest-running music venues in town is Tipitina’s, the unassuming Uptown club known for its yellow banana logo and all-night funk jams on Halloween, New Year’s Eve, and Mardi Gras. The venue was founded in 1977 as a place for local legend Professor Longhair to perform in his golden years, and you’ll still find the Professor’s bronze bust at the door and his portrait over the stage. Since then, it’s hosted its fair share of historic gigs, including Nine Inch Nails on the Pretty Hate Machine tour in 1990, rock’n’roll pioneer Fats Domino’s final public performance in 2007, and annual reunions of local legends the Radiators. With its balconies, barn rafters, and checkered dancefloor, Tip’s is spacious yet homey—and if you’ve had a little too much to drink, you can always lean against one of the big wooden columns and just let the music wash over you.

As a member of local funk band Galactic, current co-owner Robert Mercurio has played at Tipitina’s for years. The band purchased the venue in November 2018, and when Covid spiked in New Orleans a little over a year later, Mercurio says, “It seemed like it was possibly maybe the worst decision we’ve ever made.” But the club’s loyal following both in the city and beyond—along with some inventive new projects—proved invaluable during the pandemic. Over the past year, Tipitina’s hosted a Save Tip’s benefit concert to raise much-needed donations, started a subscription vinyl club, filled the dancefloor with live-streaming equipment to power Tipitina’s TV, and partnered with a local coffee shop for sidewalk service. Government small-business loans and assistance from the Save Our Stages Act are also helping to bridge the gap until it’s safe to reopen. When that day finally comes, Mercurio is ready to pivot again: He’s already planning socially distanced, lounge-style seated concerts.

Robert Mercurio: It has a loose, juke-joint vibe that meshes well with the attitude of the Big Easy. It has a warm, welcoming feeling that I don’t find in many other venues around the country. It also just has a deep, rich history that’s palpable when you walk into the building.

Seeing Bootsy Collins there when I first moved to town around 1980 was just awesome. It really overtook the room with all the speakers, and the groove was deep. It just seemed like everybody in the whole town was at that show.

We’ve partnered with a local coffee shop, so they serve coffee through a side window that leads out to the street and there’s outside seating on the sidewalk—there’s actually a lot more energy there during the day than there has ever been. Inside, it’s become more of a TV studio, in a way. Because it’s such an iconic stage, we have gotten a lot of calls to film stuff, from Ivan Neville recording “Star-Spangled Banner” for NASCAR, or just a local band filming a livestream.

Oh yes, big time. The Record Club and Tip’s TV were concepts that we thought about pre-pandemic, so it gave us time to actually concentrate on them. We always thought that Tip’s could create an Austin City Limits or Grand Ole Opry kind of show that highlights the venue and the music that’s created through the venue in New Orleans. And we definitely have done a lot of repairs, and the club is looking better than it has in decades.

There is—at the beginning, they had a drink called the Lil’ Rum Boogie. It has Meyer’s rum, some fruit juice, ice, and a squirt of fresh lime. We’re thinking about bringing it back. Truthfully, we don’t have a signature cocktail right now, but this time has given us moments to think about stuff like that.

How to support Tipitina’s: Subscribe to Tipitina’s Record Club, purchase livestream tickets at Tipitina’s TV, shop the merch store, or donate directly

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Jump to: Trinosophes | Wooly’s | Constellation | First Avenue | The Hideout | Slowdown | The Beachland Ballroom & Tavern

Detroit, Michigan
Capacity: 250
Established: 2011
Best Known For: Out-there sounds (and biscuits)

By Evan Minsker

A night at Trinosophes might mean you got tickets to see Colombian experimental sorceress Lucrecia Dalt or Tuareg guitar virtuoso Mdou Moctar or a legend like Hans-Joachim Roedelius, known for his work with krautrock pioneers Cluster and Harmonia. It might mean you’re in a room watching a lesser-known jazz combo, an unpredictable noise act, or a local record release party. Unlike huge venues in Detroit that regularly host bigger names, the programming at Trinosophes feels more intimate, and curated to the owners’ DIY ethos.

Located in a former spice processing warehouse, Trinosophes is a multipurpose creative hub run by musician/composer Joel Peterson and curator/publisher Rebecca Mazzei, who respectively run the label Two Rooms Records and the journal Three Fold Press out of the space. Along with being a music venue, it’s also an art gallery (they once displayed jazz great Yusef Lateef’s illustrated works) and a cafe (their signature buttermilk biscuits are worth a trip alone). Sometimes there’s a retail space set up in the gallery; I once bought a giant piece of furniture and a cup of coffee at the counter before popping into the adjacent Peoples Records. Another time I was supposed to interview local noise-rock linchpins Wolf Eyes at some normie bar, but instead, the band told me to drive them to Trinosophes because the vibe was better. There are almost always artists and musicians hanging around, and the team at Trinosophes actively works to help the city’s creatives find opportunities and even grant money.

While Trinosophes has been closed since Michigan’s first state shutdown order went into place last March, it’s remained a space where artists record music, publications are planned, and baked goods are served on weekends.

Joel Peterson: It's really a range. If you walk in randomly, you could get a lot of different impressions depending on when you come and what the vibe is and who shows up. The typical day probably would be a composite that includes the water service being shut off for several hours, some crazy dude running in the building and screaming, and then a bunch of European musicians will show up. We’ll have full tables for a lunch shift, and then it'll be just crickets for four hours, and then some amazing concert will happen, and somewhere between nine and 300 people will show up.

Rebecca and I were talking with George Tysh, who was a founding member of [progressive collective] Detroit Artists Workshop in the ’60s, and he was like, “You guys are exactly what Detroit Artists Workshop was trying to be, but we could never get it together like you guys.” Just recently, I’d been published in a MOCAD book about music where I identified Detroit Artists Workshop as being the root of all DIY culture, so it was funny to get that back from him a few weeks later.

We hosted the artist talk and educational portions of the Trip Metal Festivals that Wolf Eyes did, and that first year, they had [electronic music pioneer] Morton Subotnick. I didn't even know Subotnick was alive until they told me they had booked him for it. Just hearing him talk about his history and his craft was amazing. We also hosted Rashida Tlaib’s party before she went off to Congress, and that had a really historic recording of her addressing her peers. The Master Musicians of Joujouka was a big one because their tour in the States consisted of the Lincoln Center, Bonnaroo, and Trinosophes.

How to support Trinosophes: Donate to the space and support their in-house partners by visiting Warda Pâtisserie on weekends and shopping for records on Peoples’ Discogs page.

Des Moines, Iowa
Capacity: 700
Established: 2012
Best Known For: Eclectic booking, good sound, familiar faces

By Marc Hogan

When Wooly’s first opened its doors nine years ago, it filled a gap in Des Moines’ music scene and helped to anchor a fledgling neighborhood. Named for its building’s former life as a Woolworth’s grocery store, Wooly’s gave the mid-sized city a space for mid-size shows, slotting comfortably between 200-capacity bars and 1,000-capacity theaters. Its presence has also driven a boom in the city’s so-called East Village district, a quick bridge stroll across the Des Moines River from downtown. Over the years, Wooly’s has hosted artists across genres, including Jimmy Eat World, Sam Hunt, Danny Brown, Girl Talk, Spoon, Future Islands, hometown antiheroes Stone Sour, Japanese noise-rock luminaries Melt-Banana, and many more.

At Wooly’s shows, more often than not, it seems like everyone I know is there—definitely the case at the last concert I attended pre-COVID, a typically raucous Black Lips gig. Owner Sam Summers, whose First Fleet Concerts also books the outdoor Hinterland Music Festival in St. Charles, Iowa, argues that arts and entertainment venues are crucial economic hubs. “I like to think that Wooly’s has been a catalyst for a little bit of what goes on around us,” he says, with more than a smidge of self-effacing Midwestern understatement.

Sam Summers: Gorilla Biscuits with Modern Life Is War in 2018. I used to listen to Gorilla Biscuits’ tape, Start Today, while I was mowing lawns growing up. Then I met [guitarist Alex Brown, a Des Moines native, who passed in 2019] and got really into his art. They weren’t really touring. They were playing big festivals in other countries. Alex moved back here, and he wanted to do it, and have his family there and everything. I’d say Black Flag was a close second.

A couple of things, actually. Right in front there’s this massive pasta case. We use it for merch now, like where bands set up in the lobby, but it was in an Italian grocery store a while ago. I guess it just moved around the block.

Kirk Blunck, who owned the building and passed away in 2016, was an architect but also a collector of art. There’s this massive glass piece, I don’t know what it is even, but it’s in a frame. It’s too big to get out of our doors, so we hung it above our box office—which is a little scary, because it’s so massive. I don’t know if that’s something the public knows about.

We have learned to become great grant writers. Really, it’s just figuring out what’s out there, because there’s been a lot of help in different forms.

How to support Wooly’s: Buy tickets to upcoming shows

Chicago, Illinois
Capacity: 300 (standing), ~175 (seated)
Established: 2013
Best Known For: Experimental and improvised music

By Liz Pesnel

When Mike Reed opened the Constellation in Chicago, he joked that opening a music venue is the most foolish thing you can do, so it’s only fitting that their anniversary is on April Fool’s Day.

The venue, originally formed as a for-profit in 2013, evolved into a non-profit in 2018 that continues to give artists space to both perform and develop new work, with a focus on jazz and contemporary classical. It’s not unusual to see local musicians Ben LaMar Gay and Macie Stewart or international artists like the Scandanavian band, Atomic, at Constellation, a small, black box-style space that’s akin to literal stargazing. Every show feels intimate, and wherever you sit has a cool view. “This is exactly what I would do if I won the lottery,” says Reed, who also happens to be our longtime production partner for Pitchfork Music Festival. “Have a place where I can present and be inspired by things that do that for me. I think that really does come off to people.”

Will Oldham, Roscoe Mitchell, Bill Callahan, Amy Schumer, Low, Cate Le Bon, Bonnie Prince Billy with Bitchin Bajas, and Sun Ra Arkestra.

It’s unique because we share the space with [another organization], Links Hall. During the day there are usually performers [and] artists—not musicians—that are using the rooms to work on whatever, [whether it’s] a show they’re developing [or] a workshop. That’s what’s going on until about four almost every day. After four, it reverts to the venue part of it.

We’ve been streaming one or two shows a week. People sort of pop in when they need to, to get the piano tuned or run cables. … We did a bunch of research, and then started to bring back a few of the tech folks to try and do it safely. And then Chicago Jazz Fest needed to go virtual. We filmed 18 performances in a weekend. So it’s been really great for us, spiritually. We put all of our stuff on YouTube [because] for the audiences we’re aiming at, I don’t want to put up a barrier to entry. And these musicians are maybe making 30 percent more online on the streaming, donation-based concerts. And that’s great.

When we did the first show back right at the beginning of August, Jim Elkington played. And I hadn’t seen live music in months. It was so miraculous to be in a room with somebody making music. I got to be there, and it was unreal. A couple of weeks after that, I played there and it was like, wow, I remember why I do this.

[There’s] a photo of [saxophonist and club owner] Fred Anderson at The Velvet Lounge behind the bar—he’s got a saxophone out. We had a lot of conversations about business. I would go over there and help him out, especially when The Velvet Lounge moved; and we’d talk in philosophical terms about business and trying to keep the music going. So I had that photo at home, and I was like, you know what, this is going right above the bar. From day one, I put it up there, and then the [photographer] came in, and he’s like, ‘No, you need a bigger one.’ So he made a bigger print, and we put that up. Of course, not everybody knows who Fred is, but for the people that know, they know how important that is.

(Fred passed away in 2010, prior to Constellation opening)

How to support Constellation: Tune into a show, buy merch, or donate.

Minneapolis, Minnesota
Capacity: 1,550
Established: 1970
Best Known For: Launching local legends

By Marc Hogan

Immortalized in Prince’s film Purple Rain, First Avenue has been home to all of the brightest lights in the Twin Cities’ overachieving music scene, from the Replacements and Hüsker Dü all the way up through Lizzo. “It doesn’t matter your age or what style of music you listened to: If you live in the area, you’ve probably been to a show at First Avenue,” marketing director Ashley Ryan says. (My own experiences at the address—seeing both indie rockers Chastity Belt and rap renegade JPEGMAFIA at the attached, 250-capacity 7th St Entry—back ups Ryan’s claims of eclecticism.) Initially known as the Depot, because it’s located in a former Greyhound bus station, First Avenue is a local fixture with an influence on the community that extends beyond the walls of its performance space. During the pandemic, the venue has focused on boosting BIPOC-owned businesses in its newsletters and getting the word out about local COVID resources.

As president of the National Independent Venue Association, First Avenue owner Dayna Frank led the national effort behind the Save Our Stages legislation, which has resulted in $15 billion in funding being dedicated to cultural institutions. The venue’s 50th anniversary passed silently during the pandemic; its 51st will happen next month, and plans for a digital commemoration are underway.

Ashley Ryan: D’Angelo has to be an all-time highlight for me. The energy in the room was out of control. It sold out immediately, and everyone wanted to be in that space. And he's a disciple of Prince himself. He really is such an accomplished musician and it just all came together in this magical night.

I don't think anybody knows about this yet, but we actually received a Lego model of the building, full of Lego people and a Lego band and a Lego line at the door, that probably will be on display in the future.

Oh man. We definitely are on some [worst bathroom] lists out there. The bathrooms have been redone and actually they'll be getting probably more upgrades as we’re opening post-pandemic. Our sinks and paper towel dispensers are touchless, so it’s a very sanitary situation—but it's this amazing old art deco building, and the bathrooms are still from the bus station.

Every year, First Avenue does a January show called Best New Bands, and the ones that we had on our lineup last year didn’t get a fair shake. They got to play in January, and then by March we were closed. I’d like to give them a little bit of love: Under Violet, Nur-D, Muun Bato, Mae Simpson, Loki’s Folly, and Green/Blue.

How to support First Avenue: Buy merch and donate to local nonprofit Twin Cities Music Community Trust to help gig workers

Chicago, Illinois
Capacity: 150
Established: 1934
Best Known For: Eclectic lineups and an activist heart

By Seth Dodson

The Hideout is one of Chicago’s best-known venues, though it’s not exactly a bar you can stumble upon. Tucked away in an industrial corridor along the Chicago River in a 100-year-old balloon-frame house, it’s an unassuming spot with a big heart. Its co-owners—married couple Tim and Katie Tuten, and twin brothers Mike and Jim Hinchsliff—have run the venue since 1996, providing a hub for fans of indie rock, bluegrass, and comedy. It was here that Mavis Staples recorded her milestone 2008 live album Hope at the Hideout (Jeff Tweedy came, marking the beginning of a prolific partnership).

Katie Tuten: We have [eras] of The Hideout where we might’ve been more heavy on this or that type of music. But the thing that has never changed is that we are a community house. You can see the different types of music that have been brought to the table, but the underlying theme is community.

Morimoto (Program director): The Hideout is where artists come to see interesting shows. They meet people and foster new relationships, which leads to new projects that come back to play at The Hideout—kind of a circle of events. It’s a place where you can experiment and try new things. That was exciting to me, as an audience member and now as a booker, too.

Katie: CIVL was formed in an effort to stop the corporatization of venues in Chicago. NIVA looked to us because we are one of the few cities in the country that already had a consortium of venue owners, collectively meeting to address any number of issues, whether that’s boring things like HVAC systems or the Save Our Stages Act.

How to support the Hideout: The Hideout continues on with live-streaming programming, has a wonderful on-line shop with Chicago artist designed merch, and an active GoFundMe to support the staff.

Omaha, Nebraska
Capacity: 588
Established: 2007
Best Known For: Modernizing live music in Omaha

By Andy Cush

In the early 2000s, as the success of bands like Bright Eyes and Cursive was turning Omaha into a significant way station on the national indie rock circuit, artists who came through town had few good venues to play. So Saddle Creek Records, the label that signed those groups, decided to solve the problem itself. Co-owners Rob Nansel and Jason Kulbel called the place Slowdown, in honor of the band that kickstarted the Saddle Creek scene.

The pair spent seven years scouting locations, at first hoping to renovate a pre-existing theater. But after a few false starts, they decided to build something from the ground up. Planning everything to their specifications, they designed a room in which there’s “truly not a bad spot to see a show,” according to Kulbel, with a wraparound second-floor balcony and no giant support poles to block views. The venue itself anchors a larger mixed-use complex, also built by the Slowdown team, that includes a nonprofit movie theater, restaurants, a brewery, and Saddle Creek’s headquarters.

Before the pandemic, Kulbel had hoped 2020 would be one of the most successful years in Slowdown’s history. Today, they’re operating with a reduced staff and plan to resume limited-capacity shows with local bands in April. “We’re still here. We’re gonna open again,” Kulbel says. “So it could be worse.”

Jason Kulbel: We had the best staff we’ve ever had, the best upcoming calendar we’ve ever had, the best January and February we’ve ever had. Some years, those months are awful, but we were just crushing. It’s almost like the bottom had to fall off, you know? It’s just too good to be true.

Reopening is going to be really hard, because everything that you had before is gone. The staff is gone, the shows are gone. We’re opening with all local stuff, which is fine, but it’s not going to bring people out, it’s not what people really want to see as a whole. So you’re going to be opening as a skeleton of yourself. It would almost be easier just to open a brand new place.

We’re in the middle of the country, so COVID isn’t real over here. You would probably be shocked. This other venue in town, our peer venue, is open already. And the further you drive out to the suburbs, the less real the pandemic gets. It’s weird, having the governor and the county telling you it’s OK to do things, you don’t need to have these restrictions anymore. It would be easier if they would just say, you can’t open. Then I would know what to do. But instead we have not had a lot of guidance, and we’re left to weave through this as we see fit. Which is a pretty dangerous place to be in, both in setting up your reopening plan and trying to enforce it. I had a lot of sleepless nights last March and April because of the business being closed, and now I feel like I’m going to have those same sleepless nights, but for very different reasons.

The luxury that we had in building this was that we truly started on paper and built it. Robb and I, we were literally traveling the world, going to club after club. Between that and talking to all of our bands, we had a good idea of what worked and didn’t work in a venue, for both the band and the fan. So we drew out on paper what we thought was the perfect space to come and see a show of that size. There’s a handful of things I’d probably change, but not many. It’s held up really well. It’s built to have the hell beat out of it. It’s an A-plus venue in a not-even-close-to-an-A-plus market.

The pound-for-pound most kickass band has been Against Me! They’ve been here five or six times over the years, and they have always been amazing. They’re not my favorite band — nothing against them — but when it comes to playing a show in our room, I don’t think there’s anybody better.

How to support the Slowdown: Buy merch and tickets to upcoming shows

Cleveland, Ohio
Founded: 2000
Capacity: 648 across two stages
Best Known For: Revitalizing the North Collinwood neighborhood and giving the Black Keys their start

By Jillian Mapes

Beachland Ballroom co-owner Cindy Barber rattles off the names of artists tentatively scheduled to play the venue this fall: Waxahatchee, Yo La Tengo, Thee Oh Sees, Caroline Rose, Baths, Brand X, Moon Hooch. “Something’s gonna happen, because they wouldn’t be booking shows if there wasn’t some hope,” she says. In the meantime, Barber and fellow co-owner Mark Leddy have been making the most of it at the former Croatian social club, now a centerpiece of Cleveland’s Waterloo Arts District. Though the space remains wonderfully retro, with a disco ball hanging and paintings of the Croatian countryside flanking the stage, they’ve used the pandemic lull to renovate the main ballroom, upgrading from an old-school analog soundboard to a digital one that better facilitates live-streaming. They also improvised ways to throw the occasional (safe) show throughout the late summer and fall last year, either in the parking lot or with drastically reduced crowds. After having to shut things down in November, they recently reopened again at roughly an eighth of their usual capacity. Right now, the bookings consist mostly of smaller rescheduled tours, typically doing two shows a night, and homegrown acts. “This is a good time to help build audiences for local bands,” says Barber. “People are hungry for music.”

Cindy Barber: I think they like the authenticity of the Beachland. We always set out to be diverse in our booking style. We started with Americana and garage rock, and we also did jazz and blues and Texas swing. We flew Hank Thompson up from Texas to play one of our anniversaries, and brought in Alex Chilton and the Ventures. At the same time, we’ve always wanted to support the new young bands. We’re known for giving the Black Keys their start, ’cause they played their first live show at the Beachland in March 2002. Drive-By Truckers, Josh Ritter, the Hold Steady, the National, Trampled by Turtles—a lot of these people got their start on our small stage and we’d work them up to the ballroom, and then oftentimes we could help promote them at larger venues in Cleveland, too.

Well, there’s been a lot of money distributed through the county CARES Act. Cleveland has a big nonprofit funding structure [for the arts]: There’s a cigarette tax in Cuyahoga County that allocates millions of dollars to support nonprofits, and places like the Cleveland Museum of Art and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame are big benefactors of that arts funding. Because the venues have been really organized here, we were able to collectively be part of that conversation [during COVID] and go, “We are also part of the arts community in this county. Even though the work’s not officially a nonprofit, we’re still in this together.” We were able to get funding through the county CARES Act—we kind of fought for that. What each performance venue was able to get depended on their size, but the Beachland was able to get $47,000.

It’s a completely different experience in the ballroom right now. We can only have 64 people at 16 tables, with barriers in between tables that are a little closer to each other. We’re basically selling 16 tickets to every show—you have to buy a four-top table so you’re in your own little pod. We went from a staff of 23 people before COVID to a hands-on staff of five or six. Instead of a ticket taker, we have a greeter who seats people and tells them the rules. We have two servers now who go to the tables and take orders, so people aren’t up and moving around. My little staff has this magic yellow piece of string that’s exactly six feet [laughs]. They measure it out and make sure everyone is six feet apart.

How to support the Beachland Ballroom: Buy their new and improved merch

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Jump to: Mohawk | Meow Wolf’s House of Eternal Return | Warehouse Live

Austin, Texas
Capacity: 900
Established: 2006
Best Known For: Its beautiful multi-tiered outdoor setup

By Cat Zhang

“All are welcome.” That’s the proud motto of Austin’s Mohawk, an indoor-outdoor venue situated next to a vegan queer bar and the German-Texan Historical Society. And if you don’t believe it, the taxidermied bear in a pale blue Nudie suit that greets you on the way in should drive it home. The Mohawk opened its doors in 2006 and has embraced both local talent (like the cumbia-pop quartet Como Las Movies) and national favorites (Yo La Tengo, Rico Nasty). In non-pandemic times, it hosts between 10 and 12 shows a week in its multi-level amphitheater and on a smaller indoor stage.

Mohawk assistant general manager Mikey Wheeler has been the venue’s only employee while it weathers the pandemic with closed doors. He spends his days checking on grant opportunities and prepping for multiple possible reopening scenarios. He gets overwhelmed thinking of all of the local bands he wants to host when things return to normal. “Just running it through my head, everyone’s faces, brings tears to my eyes,” he says.

Mikey Wheeler: We have. The City of Austin was a little slow at the start, but they've ramped up and recognized that it's unrealistic for businesses to sustain themselves for so long with such dramatic revenue losses. Then we have multiple former employees, plus myself, who are members of the National Independent Venue Association. One of them, Austen Bailey, was extremely active in lobbying to get the Save Our Stages act passed.

We had Iggy and the Stooges in 2013 for South by Southwest. In 2019, we did three nights with Black Pumas, who blew up. So I don't know if we'll be able to get them back into the venue again. But that was phenomenal.

MW: The Dillinger Escape Plan was one of the first shows that I was the manager on duty for. I was in the office, ready to settle up with the promoter and band. The general manager at the time came in and told me I had to come outside real quick and look at what's going on. I thought that something horrible had happened, but I went out and all these fans were just up on the stage having a blast. It was amazing. It really sunk in that Mohawk was going to be my home for a while.

How to support Mohawk: Donate to Banding Together to help the Austin music scene and give your bartender a good tip!

Santa Fe, New Mexico
Capacity: 400
Established: 2016
Best Known For: Immersive psychedelia

By Jeremy D. Larson

How it started: a ragtag group of artists turning a disused barbershop in Santa Fe into a DIY art space. How it’s going: a multimedia conglomerate with its own film production company; massive psychedelic art installations in three cities, with more in the works; and a founder who went from shoplifting video games to make rent to raising millions of dollars in VC funding. At the heart of the Meow Wolf empire sits House of Eternal Return, located in a Santa Fe shopping mall and funded in part by George R. R. Martin, a complex which can be described only partially as a music venue. It also features an enormous walk-through art installation, a lysergic cornucopia of oddly satisfying or unsettling objects, like the midpoint between a cabinet of curiosities and a laser tag arena. There’s a blacklight forest, a portal inside of a refrigerator, a cigarette machine that dispenses art, taxidermy covered in felt and sequins.

We spoke with Susan Garbett, the General Manager of Meow Wolf’s House of Eternal Return, who hopes that when live music returns to the stage, you’ll come to Meow Wolf, buy the ticket, and take the ride.

Susan Garbett: When you walk into the art exhibit, you're walking into a front yard of a Victorian home. You see a two-story house, and you walk into the house, and the house seems normal. But as you head into the kitchen, there's a refrigerator, and you open it, and you can walk through the fridge into a portal to a different universe.

You're not showing up and having this traditional experience of going to the bar first and smoking a cigarette outside and chatting with your friends. You're entering this headspace of creativity as you're heading to the venue. We call the venue itself "Fancy Town," and it's like a psychedelic ghost town. We've got a fairly small stage, but we have really amazing neon projection mapping all throughout the space. Right off the venue, there's a lighthouse that doubles as a photo booth. There's a hollowed-out ice machine that you can walk through and it's like an infinity mirror space.

Oh my god, yes. Wayne Coyne’s a big fan of Meow Wolf. We have hilarious stories from our staff of all of the crazy psychedelics that people come and do when they visit, even without shows.

It's a color-changing margarita. It has blue pea flower tea and it’s topped with a salt rim and a big puff of cotton candy.

Meow Wolf is in a unique situation because we have a different business model than other venues. We're gonna be able to open soon, in a different capacity. And while it will take a while for us to have concerts coming back, we're very fortunate that we'll still be able to operate and keep people working.

I think the biggest thing that Meow Wolf would tell you to do is to support artists within your community and people that you love and care about: the visual artists, musicians, or venues and venue staff. A thriving arts community and a thriving music scene is good for everyone. So find your local DIY art space or music space and support that, because that's what will make a great community, and that's what Meow Wolf wants to be a part of.

Houston, Texas
Capacity: 1,300
Established: 2006
Best Known For: Eclectic lineups and rap mainstays

By Brandon Caldwell

Warehouse Live’s huge marquee has made it a visible landmark in Houston’s East Downtown neighborhood for the past 15 years. The club is the only place in town where you can hear rock, country, and Screw music all on the same night, and catch both rising hopefuls and chart-topping icons. (Drake has performed there, and Prince made an appearance on NBA All-Star Weekend in 2006.)

For local artists, graduating from one of Warehouse’s three spaces — the intimate Green Room, the Studio, and the Ballroom — to the next is an important mile marker in their careers. And selling out a show could put them a step closer to being the next Megan Thee Stallion or Travis Scott, both of whom came up through the venue. “Warehouse is special,” says longtime venue marketing director Ashly Montgomery. “Anything can happen, and you can dream big.”

I felt like I was going to rip my hair out. I don’t understand the timing of the announcement, but there’s so much mystery and shade and suspicion to everything. When we were having these little tribute band shows, it was only so the bartenders could make money and make their rent. We’re going to have to have an in-depth conversation about this, “Do we want to be open?” Now with people not having to really wear masks, it’s become a more difficult conversation.

Drake came twice. Kendrick Lamar once did two shows in one night. We’ve had Megan Thee Stallion, Prince, Devo, Duran Duran, Adele when she was just breaking out with 19. We even had Nine Inch Nails. Oh my God, Travis Scott. I got horrible pictures but I remember he jumped from the racks in the ceiling onto the crowd below. But the biggest? Easily the Drake show in ‘09, which kind of set him up for the rest of his career and then the Houston Appreciation Weekend show years later. You had this guy, who wasn’t really from Houston, but he’s adopted now, and it was fuckin’ cool.

I remember everyone being hammered. Everyone. People that work at the venue that don’t even drink. Even our accountant! She doesn’t drink but her husband had to get her and take her back home in their minivan. We felt like we were all on MTV that night.

Give me all the Houston legends. Screwed Up Click, Swishahouse. Hell, Megan or even Beyoncé. I can’t do any more arena rock! If you want to support us, just buy a ticket! That’s how you can support us.

How to support Warehouse Live: Buy a ticket.

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Jump to: Holocene | Neurolux | Chilkoot Charlie’s | 924 Gilman | Neumos | Catch One | Pappy and Harriet’s

Portland, Oregon
Capacity: 325
Established: 2003
Best Known For: Bringing the community together

By Philip Sherburne

Despite its small size, Portland’s Holocene has hosted a number of marquee names over the last 18 years, many of them early in their careers: Fleet Foxes, Justice, Vampire Weekend—even Billie Eilish came through before her big break. Bon Iver was so struck by the place that he named a song after it. But these brushes with indie celebrity belie the Eastside club’s primary focus on its immediate community, as a home base for local bands and DJs, an outpost for niche sounds, and a platform for LGBTQIA+ and BIPOC events. It has remained a unifying presence over the last year, despite the pandemic’s enforced shift from IRL to URL, hosting livestreamed DJ nights and fundraising events for BIPOC nonprofits.

In normal times, says co-owner Scott McLean, “It’s a place where different facets of the community can come together in a unique space that isn’t old-school Portland. It’s not like that bar from Portlandia where everyone’s got suspenders on. We do hip-hop nights, tropical nights, techno nights. One of the reasons we’ve stayed around for 18 years is that we offer so many things to so many different people.”

Scott McLean: Right after the lockdown, we invested money in cameras and gear and had our lead audio tech and lighting guy get up to speed on streaming. We just learned on the fly, and some of those streams were pretty successful. Some nights we raised $6,000, $7,000 in gross. It was all donation based. After the techs were paid, we basically split the money 50/50 with the DJs.

With the social unrest in the summer, we pivoted to events where all the money was going to BIPOC-aligned nonprofits, and we didn’t take any cut. A local group called the Black Music Expo contacted us, and we helped them develop a streaming program and shot a lot of stuff at Holocene. We did a couple of things for organizations raising money around the election. So we’ve been doing more pro bono work. Obviously it’s not a moneymaker, but it’s been really fulfilling.

We had an epic dance party in 2008, when Obama was elected, celebrating the end of the Bush era. It was one of those joyous nights, pure ecstasy. I look back on it with a weird nostalgia.

Oregon was unique: We formed the Independent Venue Coalition, which is like Oregon’s version of the NIVA, and lobbied our state representatives to give grant money to all the venues in Oregon. We got about eight months of money, which was supposed to be portioned for March through December 2020. That really helped. It was nowhere near what we would make regularly, but because our operations were so minimal, we were able to hire staff to work on things like painting and repairs. But we haven’t been open to the public at all. If we could pay our staff to not work, then we were going to do that, rather than try to figure out some way to make a very minimal amount of money and put people at risk in the process.

It’s going to be 2022 before major tours happen. Local stuff will be the meat and potatoes of entertainment and income. Tours will be regional, because of states having different restrictions, different vaccination rates. We are well situated in that we can do local dance parties. We might not be doing the same numbers on the weekend, but I think there will be an opportunity to spread things across the week. The weekend warrior situation where you’re in a room with 300 people on a Saturday night is less appealing and less essential. But a Monday or Tuesday night with 50 people dancing to reggaetón or whatever will be amazing for people.

How to support Holocene: Buy merch and tickets to upcoming shows and livestreams

Boise, Idaho
Capacity: 300
Established: 1993
Best Known For: The all-in-one music venue, bar, and dance club in downtown Boise

By Sam Sodomsky

In former lives, the space that now houses Neurolux was a blacksmith shop, a radio repair center, and a pizza parlor. But when Allen Ireland opened it in 1993, next to the independent music store Record Exchange, it became a fixture in a flourishing music scene, hosting pivotal shows from Boise’s own Built to Spill and Youth Lagoon along with Pacific Northwest artists like Modest Mouse and Elliott Smith. Patrons know Neurolux for its tight barroom feel and the giant neon crown behind the stage. “Allen collects a bunch of antiques,” says booker Eric Gilbert. “I think that’s from some breakfast restaurant, or a casino.”

Gilbert, who also runs the production company Duck Club Presents and helped found Boise’s annual Treefort Music Fest in 2012, notes that the city’s communal atmosphere is crucial to the success of Neurolux. “With Radio Boise and Record Exchange in the neighborhood too,” he says, “there’s a hub that makes it easy for bands to go to the studio, then do an in-store, and play a show.”

Neurolux’s outdoor patio has been a COVID-safe hangout for the past year, but Gilbert is eager for the venue to resume more normal, which also includes karaoke and raucous late-night DJ sets. “It's almost like a European club,” Gilbert says. “Some of my favorite times are just when everyone's on the stage and it’s a wild dance party.”

There was a lot of optimism on the scene. Built to Spill were coming up then and there were a handful of other bands that were kind of getting the Seattle treatment: Everyone was starting to pay attention. It was an exciting moment. I know Doug Martsch bartended at Neurolux when it first opened, and he would play a bunch of shows back then. In fact, I’ve been helping him with some Zoom charity performances, and one of them was for Neurolux.

In the ’90s, there was the initial optimism but it kind of went away. There was a little bit of entrenched cynicism. It became hard for bands in Boise to get any attention unless they left. I was in a band of my own, on a label out of Portland, and I was touring a lot. But I loved living in Idaho. We played CMJ and South by Southwest, and I thought it'd be cool to have some sort of festival to help shine a light on the local scene, which was actually more vibrant than even the locals knew. That was the impetus in doing a multi-venue festival. A lot of the showcase festivals are pretty industry facing, so we wanted to do it a little more DIY. The first show our very first year was at Neurolux. Nobody knew if it was going to work, but then Lux was packed at like 6 p.m. on a Thursday. It felt like a big, collaborative, community project.

There's just an intimacy. When a lot of bands are on the road and staying in town, they’ll come here, like the Flaming Lips. There was one night when Wayne [Coyne] was just hanging out. One of the cool things—and one of the bad things—about Neurolux is that there is no green room. Artists don't love that all the time, but it is cool because they can just hang out. Another thing about Neurolux is that it’s also open as a bar, so we don't do closed soundchecks. Sometimes artists don't love that either! But they also embrace it: “Oh yeah, this is where we came from.”

How to support Neurolux: Venmo the staff @Neurolux.

Anchorage, Alaska
Capacity: 999
Established: 1970
Best Known For: A space big enough to hold something for everybody

By Zachariah Hughes

Chilkoot Charlie’s (known by Alaskans as simply “Koot’s”) is more than your typical music venue—it’s a rambling entertainment compound that takes up almost a full city block. There are multiple stages and bars, plus an arcade, much of which are decorated in an impressive collection of Russian memorabilia, including a lifesize model of the Sputnik satellite. One of the bars is an exact replica of a notorious Alaska saloon that burned down, meticulously recreated down to the crooked bar top and wall plastered with bras and underwear.

But everything inside centers around music. Even in more normal times, Anchorage isn’t exactly a hotbed of live music. So Koot’s is one of the few places to see famous artists, or local metal acts, or cover bands playing 80s rock ballads.

For decades, Koot’s was open every single day, through holidays, storms and earthquakes. Mandatory closures during the pandemic have forced the venue to shutter for the first time since its founding. Regular customers have provided a small trickle of business since the city allowed bars and restaurants to re-open with capacity limits. But live music and dancing are still off the table, and likely to remain so for months.

Sarah Pederson (co-owner): 36 Crazyfists. August Burns Red. Whitesnake and Ted Nugent back in the day. The Scorpions. Pantera hung out at Koot’s when they played [Alaskan arena] the Sullivan Arena, so there’s been a lot of that as well. Portugal. The Man actually played a really cool show after they got big. Sublime played outside [in the parking lot], and that was a pretty big deal at the time. So did Papa Roach, I believe.

I think we’re the only venue in town with multiple stages and dance floors. It’s so big, and there are so many different rooms, that if you don’t like what’s happening in one room, you can walk into the next one and find something completely different.

A shot called The T-bone. It started in Koot’s. It was invented by the drummer of 36 Crazyfists, and his name is Thomas, hence the name. It’s Southern Comfort, Amaretto, 7-Up, sweet-and-sour, and a splash of lime juice. If it’s made right it tastes just like the Smarties candy.

How to support Chilkoot Charlie’s: Stop by and have a socially distanced drink.

Berkeley, California
Capacity: 225
Established: 1986
Best Known For: Being the launchpad for the ’90s punk revival

By Vivian Host

There’s no better embodiment of DIY punk than 924 Gilman. For 35 years, this former auto-detailing warehouse in an unassuming corner of West Berkeley has been volunteer-run, non-profit, all-ages safe space for punks and weirdos, upholding a “no racism, no sexism, no homophobia, no alcohol, no drugs” policy while hosting some of the wildest shows and moshpits on the planet. Gilman is famous for being the place where Operation Ivy, Rancid, The Offspring, A.F.I. and Green Day got their start; in tandem with local labels like Lookout! Records and Alternative Tentacles and zines such as Cometbus and Maximumrocknroll—whose creator, Tim Yohannon (RIP), co-founded Gilman—this squat brick building has helped establish the East Bay as a mecca for punk, metal, industrial and hardcore. Punk may have sold out but Gilman never did: major label bands are still banned, all decisions are voted on by volunteers, and generations of local bands have been able to hone their craft inside this dark, sweaty box, whether ’90s Bay staples Blatz, Crimpshrine and Link 80 or current house favorites like Sarchasm, Grumpster and Get Married. Sarchasm guitarist Mateo Campos has been volunteering at Gilman since he was 12 years old—14 years later, he is one of the venue’s head bookers and social media managers.

Mateo Campos: Operation Ivy's last show is up there, because that was also Green Day's first show as Green Day (and not Sweet Children). The show that Fugazi played at Gilman with The Beatnigs, Yeastie Girlz, and Crimpshrine is one that people still hail as the coolest, weirdest show they saw.

Seeing Green Day at Gilman in 2015. It was a one-off benefit show that they played after the AK Press fire. We voted it in; it was a really special technicality because we don't allow major label bands. It was so cool seeing Green Day in such a small space. Oh my god! I totally forgot that we hosted Jawbreaker in January 2020. My bassist booked the show and my band Sarchasm got to open for them at their first show at Gilman in like 25 years!

There’s a painting of a giant pair of bolt cutters over the entrance to the main room that's been there forever, and super satirical McDonald's art in one of the corners that’s a social commentary on starvation. The “No Stagediving” sign. Classic. I think the smells are the most interesting part of the venue 'cause it sure smells like something. It smells like punks, it smells like teenagers, it smells like 20-somethings. It smells like concrete, it smells like Whole Foods, it smells like pizza, it smells like electricity. It smells like sweat. It smells like paint. It smells like whatever monstrosity a volunteer just put in the microwave.

Before lockdown, we were gearing up to have a pretty successful summer/fall 2020. We had a bunch of cool bands coming down the pike and were really getting our act together in terms of staffing, volunteer outreach and upgrades. Financially, we were in an okay position when lockdown first happened. We have a separate financial board that deals with fundraising for Gilman as a nonprofit. They immediately started applying for grants and pushing our merch store. We threw a fundraiser with CLIF Bar and Epitaph Records back in May… and we used that experience to start throwing our own livestream shows. We try to do one every four to six weeks – we stream those on Twitch, YouTube and Facebook and ask for donations. I think our next one is in early March.

How to support 924 Gilman: Donate, buy merch, email to get involved with the space, and support Bay Area bands

Seattle, Washington
Capacity: 650
Established: 2003
Best Known For: Booking bands before they blow up

By Madison Bloom

Few detailed memories remain from the night in 2004 that my high school best friend and I saw Yeah Yeah Yeahs at Neumos, soon after the club’s current iteration opened in Seattle’s artsy Capitol Hill neighborhood. I recall sweat, fierce energy, and the realization that this was the last time we’d see this band play in a room so small. We aren’t the only ones who have this sort of story about the place. “I think a lot of people have been able to say, ‘I saw so-and-so at Neumos before they were big,’” says Neumos talent buyer Evan Johnson.

The Yeah Yeah Yeahs gig was so early in the club’s run that the green rooms were still under construction, according to co-owner Jason Lajeunesse. The amenities for the band were so appealing that one crew member decided to help themselves. “Load-in was probably at 2 p.m., and the guys were still working on getting the green room set, and some construction worker started snacking on their food,” he says. A pre-nibbled rider didn’t stop Karen O and company from putting on a remarkable show.

Neumos has become central to the Seattle music scene in the years since, extending the same welcome to Pacific Northwest icons like Ben Gibbard and Fleet Foxes and to visitors from further afield. But Lajeunesse likes to extend the sense of local warmth to all of their acts. “When they return to Seattle and they come to Neumos,” Lajeunesse says, “It’s like returning home.”

Evan Johnson: Adele, Childish Gambino. Fleet Foxes, Diplo, Vampire Weekend. Ben Gibbard has played here a handful of times. We did two nights with Odesza as they were really getting big. There was such a sense of pride because it was like, “Oh, these guys are from here. They lived down the street.”

Jason Lajeunesse: The Arcade Fire show and the Animal Collective shows were personal favorites that felt like the beginning of a musical movement, a genre explosion. After Arcade Fire’s Neumos show, the next show I did for them was at Thunderbird Stadium in Vancouver, like 4,500 people. That was an incredible trajectory to see.

Johnson: It’s in the heart of Capitol Hill, which historically is a neighborhood known for the arts and musicians, and has a very big LGBTQ population. This neighborhood has always been cool, if you really understand it. It’s so much of what Seattle is known for: being deeply involved in the arts, and always having that pride in its music.

Lajeunesse: We have a smashed guitar from [Capitol Hill] Block Party performance by Car Seat Headrest. I have an old guitar from a Trail of Dead tour that we ended up putting up in the venue.

Lajeunesse: Tacocat, Parisalexa, Stas THEE Boss, Thunderpussy, Travis Thompson, The Dip, and Starfucker, to name a few.

Johnson: The Black Tones. Chong the Nomad, and Spirit Award, which a few Neumos employees play in.

How to support Neumos: Buy tickets to upcoming shows.

Los Angeles, California
Capacity: 2,000
Established: 1973
Best Known For: A long history of queer, Black dance parties

By Paul A. Thompson

In 1973, when Jewel Thais-Williams purchased a two-story, Mediterranean-style building on W. Pico Boulevard in Los Angeles, queer Black women like her simply did not own nightclubs. And the LAPD would not let the Thais-Williams forget this: Her club, which she dubbed Jewel’s Catch One, was subject to constant intimidation, arrests, and intrusions––which slowed only when the beat cops were made skittish by the AIDS epidemic. Despite these challenges, the Catch earned a reputation as one of America’s premier spaces for dance music and queer Black club culture, hosting such illustrious performers as Donna Summer, Janet Jackson, Rick James, and Patti LaBelle inside a multi-room layout that, on its best nights, feels like a gleefully haunted house.

Six years ago, Thais-Williams––who still operates the holistic clinic next door––sold the space to father-son club promoters Steve and Mitch Edelson. Speaking from his family’s farm in Ojai, about an hour and a half drive from the club, the younger Edelson concedes that the past year has been trying: “The state still wants its money for my liquor license, the county still wants its money for my health permit, and the city still wants its money for my live-entertainment permits—even though I’m not allowed to use any of them." Under new ownership, the Catch has continued its tradition of booking acts that might not appear on other stages in L.A.––including many performers who are queer, young, and Black. Edelson hopes that a coming series of livestream events will buoy the club in the short term as he eyes a proper reopening this summer. “I have incredible confidence that people will want to go out again,” he adds. “It’s gonna be like the end-of-prohibition-level debauchery.”

Mitch Edelson: L.A. is the most competitive market in the country, because you’re on the big players’ home turf. We’re the largest independent venue owners in Los Angeles, and when you’re going up against AEG and Live Nation, it’s always very hard to compete, especially when you’re booking your own talent.

The weekend before the stay-at-home order, we had a band that had normally done really well for us—but we saw the capacity go down to 25 percent of what we expected. We knew that, very soon, we would either get shut down by the government, or people just wouldn’t come. My huge concern at the time was my staff. Luckily, the government did step up with unemployment benefits and relief packages.

Yeah, we were able to get a [Paycheck Protection Program] loan. But PPP is not built for a business that’s not allowed to open, because you have to use it on payroll. So it wasn’t as much of a benefit to us as it was to other businesses. Now they have this Shuttered Venue Operators Grant, but we’re coming up on two months after that passed, and they still haven’t released the application. It’s kind of disgusting. Every day that goes by, venues are less and less likely to be able to reopen.

How to support Catch One: Order from its kitchen, and donate or purchase tickets to livestreams through Sustain the Scene

Pioneertown, California
Capacity: 850
Established: 1982
Best Known For: Desert location, Sunday jam sessions

By Jenn Pelly

Pappy & Harriet’s is in Pioneertown, a desert community just outside Joshua Tree National Park founded as a movie set for Westerns. It’s a restaurant by day—currently open for takeout and outdoor dining—and music club by night, with both an outdoor stage and an indoor one operating out of an old roadhouse.

The current owners are ex-New Yorkers Robyn Celia and Linda Krantz, who bought Pappy’s in 2003 after Krantz, a prop master, worked on a film in Pioneertown. Pappy and Harriet, the married couple who took over in early 1980s, were musicians themselves, but ran the business primarily as a restaurant. Celia and Krantz shifted the focus to music — hosting shows from the likes of Angel Olsen, Peaches, Lizzo, and a surprise 350-capacity gig for Paul McCartney — while keeping the kitchen busy. The indoor shows feel like you’re in a cowboy movie, and the outdoor ones, under silhouetted mountains and Joshua trees, feel even more surreal.

Robyn Celia: When we bought Pappy’s, we just did it—we bought it with credit cards. Our adrenaline was so high. I was obsessed with Lucinda Williams’ Car Wheels on a Gravel Road, and on a whim I was like, “I wonder if I could book her.” It was the first show ever and it was one of the greatest nights of my life.

In 2003, it was a different time out here. You really felt like you were in the middle of nowhere. It was outlaw bikers and cowboys. When we first came here, there was a Statue of Liberty lawn ornament in front of the building. We asked this guy, “You know anything about the Statue of Liberty?” And he said, “Oh, yeah, the Hells Angels brought it to welcome you to the neighborhood.”

It’s been this delicate balance of music venue and restaurant. You’d have a band like Deafheaven playing outside and then somebody having their 40-year wedding anniversary inside, and they’re like, “Excuse me, the music is really loud.” And I’d be like, “I know, I’m so sorry.” But the food saved our asses. Being a restaurant is what has saved us completely. I do all the social media, and before the shutdown I never talked about the food. In fact, we played it down. All of a sudden, it went from promoting shows to being like, “We have salmon tonight! Come get a steak for takeout.”

It has to be Paul McCartney. They announced the show that day, and it was just complete Beatlemania insanity. We couldn’t serve meat, and two hours before he was going to take the stage, they’re like, “Oh, Robyn, do me a favor. Can you get rid of all the taxidermy on the walls?” And I was like, “What? Okay!” The next day I opened up the shed and screamed. There were all these dead animals.

The day of the first shutdown, we opened the next day for takeout. I was sitting at the phone here, like, “Please ring. Please have somebody order takeout.” But after this, I never want to hear the word “takeout” again for the rest of my life.

I tried doing it. I was getting lost trying to find people, like, “Where are you?” And they’re like, “We’ll send you a pin!” And I’m like, “There are coyotes surrounding my car, this is not gonna work.”

How to support Pappy & Harriet’s: Buy merch and stop by for lunch.