“Hell yeah, dude, you better!”
Back in August 2024, I needed a boost from a reliable source of boundless energy. Someone who could get you excited to go buy aluminum foil. That’s where Phil Smith came in handy. We’ve had many video chats throughout the years, but this one turned into an interview and ultimately spawned this website.
Phil’s band, YABAI! (Japanese for “holy shit!”), was working on their debut album, Out of Touch, and had released a few teaser singles. I knew it was a matter of time before it was done and a much-deserved record release show got scheduled, at which point I would make my way back up to Vermont for the first time in nearly two years.
The day finally came after a busy April 2025. I traveled light, with a new direct flight getting me to Burlington in only two hours. Forecasts called for rain, clearly not expecting a pair of beautiful, warm spring days to tag along with me. The weather was perfect for morning walks, afternoon bike rides, and those beautiful Burlington sunsets.
Oh yeah, and late nights of local music.
New spaces, familiar faces
Returning to a music scene you used to participate in is wild. So much has changed: musicians, bands, and venues have all come and gone. But there are still constants — people, institutions, values — that continue to shape the newest generation.
Through YABAI!, I had kept better tabs on Burlington/Vermont bands than I otherwise would have. So I was anxiously excited to see the current scene at the record release show. However, the timeline accelerated when Phil got my best friend, Joey, and me to check out a gig at Odd Fellows Lodge. The venue originally closed in the late 2000s, but played as much of a role in the local punk and hardcore scene as the legendary 242 Main. Its exterior was adorned with a beautiful mural, but inside was peak “punk show at AFW for all-ages.”
The show featured four bands: Vallory Falls, Time Eater, Doom Service, and Assorted Fruit. I tripped out over the fact that I’d seen members from half of them play in basements over 12 years ago. The room felt snug, despite being the first show back in the suburban New North End neighborhood. The humid night didn’t stop folks from coming out and getting sweaty. Instead, they just took a cue from the folks next door and kept rocking from outside.
Walking back home from Odd Fellows with that chaotic first-show-back energy set a high bar for YABAI!’s show the next night. Leave it to Phil to get creative from the top down, starting with the venue. Old Spokes Home is a non-profit bike shop in a huge warehouse space, within walking distance to another venue that was just forced to stop hosting shows. The shop’s front end ended up housing 80+ giddy attendees, from doors opening at 6pm until the show wrapped shortly after 9:30.
Like plenty of folks, I was there for the headliner, but there was something for everyone on the bill. Dogwater opened with boppin’ garage rock; We’re Here! To Kill. took a satisfying turn into ACAB noise punk; Assorted Fruit threw down a great queer punk set for the second straight night. Folks were blowing up balloons, culminating in joyous fun during each set and when YABAI! took the “stage” to play their record in full. Crowd favorites like “Sundog” and “Plum Island” turned the room into a balloon mosh pit.
A spontaneous encore of Neutral Milk Hotel’s “Two-Headed Boy” concluded a show that I didn’t want to end, even if my legs did. We had a gathering at my favorite local bar, which extended the fun past midnight, but at some point, it was time to go home. By the next evening, I was back on my couch in Durham; yet another reminder that every anticipated moment passes and normal routine returns. Except now, I can throw on Out of Touch, think back to that night — hell, that whole 3 days — and it’s like I’m right there again.
What do we want in a music scene?
Community building is an endless marathon. It takes work just to get started, then you actually have to do the thing you signed up for. There is the urge to stop, either because you’re tired or suddenly decided that you fucking hate running. But there are others there with you and, unlike a literal marathon, they can help you. Or vice versa.
I left for Burlington with the selfish desire to recharge a bit and bring some energy back. Tending to any community is work, no matter how fun you’re having. Being a temporary participant in another made me see everything I love in a new way, and I’m proud as hell of what we have here in North Carolina. Things like:
“Anti-phone culture” — Hot “boomer take” incoming, but I hate phones at concerts. I’ll snap a pic of each band for posterity, but seeing people film full songs/sets is mind-numbingly frustrating. At local shows, the phones I routinely see are in the hands of people excited about their friend’s band.
That’s not to say you can’t be trusted with your phone at a show; we’re all adults here. It’s more of a call for being present, connecting with the music, and enjoying your night out while you have it.
Local scene economics — Sarah Edwards (Culture Editor at INDY Week) had a great point about ticket prices that has stuck with me: “[There’s a] trickle-down effect of fans who will spend $800 on a Taylor Swift ticket, which is their yearly concert budget. […] If you’re going to one concert a year, you’ll miss the local shows.” A mainstream music industrial complex depends on obsessive fandoms to make an economic-shifting machine move.
But $800 spread across local shows (ticket and drinks) is anywhere from 10 to 20 unique experiences. How do we get more people to see that their investment in a big-ticket show is even more valued on the opposite end of fame? That’s an age-old question, but one that I expect to shift as concerts move further beyond the current tipping point.
“Who says you can’t?” — When I talk to folks in their 30s and 40s who “always wanted to learn an instrument,” I want to shake them and say, “Then fucking do it!” The barriers we imagine are largely self-imposed. Who says you aren’t good enough? Seriously, tell me so I can shut them up.
Music is for everyone; you only need the courage to put yourself out there and meet people. People will notice if you show up enough times despite your personal barriers. Take it from me, the guy who literally bought the cheapest new bass I could find to play in a band with my buddy Phil after college.
Resisting fascism — It feels dramatic to frame local music as resistance, but building community is our most effective defense against authoritarianism. When democracy frays around the edges, maintaining spaces where people gather to experience joy become even more necessary.
Music scenes create pockets where different values like mutual aid, creative expression, and genuine connection thrive. The people who know how to throw DIY shows are the same folks who know how to organize mutual aid networks, how to work around systems rather than through them, and how to make something out of nothing. Those are the skills that make a difference.
“Until next time, stay well!”
I felt disconnected from my passions when I lost my job last year. This three-day journey back to Burlington showed me just how far I’ve come since then. Seeing Phil and the scene he’s helped nurture was a reminder of why I started this website in the first place: to document the beautiful, sometimes messy work of people making art together. Every show we attend is an act of faith in something better than algorithm-fed isolation.
It has to be.
Leave a Reply