With such a stacked local lineup of The Dalmatian Club, Call Me Fritz, and Syncline, Pullstring’s EP Release show has been one of my most anticipated shows of the whole summer.

It did not disappoint.

The night actually managed to even exceed my expectations with the unmatched energy that both the bands and the audience brought. It was an electrifying celebration from start to finish, the kind that passes in a giddy blur and is over all too fast.

Starting off the night with their Energizer Bunny-esque vibe, Syncline had the crowd charged up from the second they took the stage. Their high energy indie rock nature was on full display as they graced the Entry stage for the first time.

You could feel the gratitude and excitement radiate off of them, getting channeled into their bright, get-off-your-feet instrumentals and surprisingly soulful vocals as heard on tracks like “Do You Want To.” I don’t think there was ever a moment during their set where they weren’t bouncing around and dancing on stage, inviting the crowd to follow suit.

Next up was Call Me Fritz, who kept the crowd moving with their energetic, garage-band style indie rock and raw vocals. Not only do both their bassist and guitarist have rocking vocals, they can also shred like no one’s business.

With their oozing charisma and swagger, they gave an electric performance that really blew up the night with originals like “Rip It.” Their cover of the Arctic Monkeys’ “I Bet You Look Good on the Dance Floor” really opened up the dance floor and kept the crowd moving.

I was super excited to see The Dalmatian Club because it had been years since I last saw them perform. I first saw them perform at their house venue in Dinkytown when they were still young in the scene. Since then, they’ve really come into their own as a band with soaring, guitar-driven melodies and resonant, punchy choruses.

Over the years, they’ve also built a firecely enthusiastic fan base. The audience wasn’t just holding onto every word—they were singing along. The band’s song “Inbox” features a belted chorus which had the crowd screaming so loud it was almost drowning out the band.

And now for the band of the hour: Pullstring. Pullstring is what happens when you bring Midwestern heart into an anthemic 90s alt-rock sound. This is best heard on their latest single which kicked off their set, “Minnesota Rain,” featuring chugging guitar riffs and bittersweet resilience along with a soaring chorus filled with bright guitar harmonies and promises of better days

The band had a lot to celebrate that night with the release of their new EP and the birthday of one of their members. In honor of the occassion, Pullstring surprised the crowd with a piñata that was promptly shredded by the pit. Even considering the surprise piñata, the Pullstring-jersey-wearing-skeleton, and the silly outfits the members sported, what really struck me was how at home the band was on stage and with each other. Yes, this was their night and yes, they decorated the stage like their living room with a dozen cozy lamps, but this sense of belonging ran even deeper than just that.

While each of the bands left me floored, the real star of the night, though, was the crowd. Every set was just a blur of motion—people constantly jumping around and singing their hearts out right along with the bands. Between songs, every act got their fair share of hooting and hollering and each band ended their time on stage with the room calling for an encore. The audience wasn’t just watching; they supported every single band on the bill with the same exact hands-on energy you give a crowd surfer—case in point, one of the members of The Dalmatian Club ended up riding the crowd themselves.

From each member of every band to each person in the audience, everyone in the room did their part to turn the Entry into the hottest party in town for Pullstring’s EP Release celebration. When you’re having that much fun, it simultaneously feels like the night is never going to end and that it’s over all too quickly. It was one hell of a celebration not only of Pullstring and their EP, but of the local scene. The evening was a loud, sweaty reminder of why the Twin Cities scene is so special—and proof that as long as these bands keep playing, the crowds will be there to hold them up.

We’ve officially hit the dog days of summer here in Minneapolis. These muggy summer nights require something bright and refreshing to help survive the heat. Luckily, the Green Room delivered that and more with the killer multi-faceted lineup of the Bright Young Things, Of the Orchard, anni xo, and Spiderlily. Each band sported their own fun flair resulting in a charming knockout of an evening that beat the heat with some light-hearted shenanigans.

Kicking off the night, Spiderlily showed off a charming sense of maturity despite being a younger band. They already have a strong sense of identity, as seen in small details like the intricate face paint their lead singer sported and the easy conifdence they have on stage. Overall, they have a strong stage presence and an alluring energy that makes it hard to take your eyes off of them and had even those sitting in the back tapping along.

What I was most surprised by was the old soul depth that the group had by way of their rich, slightly smoky vocals, which was a perfect compliment to the more youthful, modern, jangly guitars.

Their alternative rock sound can range from 70s psychedlic rock on tracks like “Morning Person” to more of a classic garage-rock feel on tracks like “Vain.”

They further showed off their range incorporating songs into their setlist with rap sensibilities and even some with a little country twang.

While Spiderlily brought a magnetic, genre-fluid cool to the stage, the evening took a more intimate turn as anni xo stepped up next. While they sonically slowed down the night, they kept it emotionally charged with their vulnerable, diary-esque songwriting through tracks like “Madison.”

anni serves up infectious indie folk and pop melodies that you can’t help but sing-along to. Being aware of this, anni actually led the crowd in a sing-along to their song “Asshole” to close out their set.

As this was my first time seeing anni xo, I was delightfully charmed by the ongoing bit between Anni and their keys player. It’s apparently a running gag that they race to see whether Anni can tune before their keys player is able to finish chugging a can of beer. Unfortunately for anni, their losing streak is still alive and well, even with a tall boy of Hamm’s in the equation.

The acoustic intimacy quickly gave way to the loud, infectious energy when Of the Orchard took the stage as the penultimate act. Of The Orchard channels a distinct brand of youthful angst, filtering it through upbeat, catchy melodies with a subtle pop-punk, Midwest emo tinge like in “Good, Good Feeling.”

Their high-energy sound feels warmly reminiscent of early 2000s alt-rock, blending nostalgic guitar hooks with modern, bittersweet storytelling like in their song “Missing You.”

I loved watching them get lost in the music as they moved across the stage. It was especially evident as their bassist was spinning around so much he even lost his glasses. Thankfully, it happens so much he has a system for dealing with it. It was even funnier to see the band give their bassist shit for accidentally forgetting to bring the merch. On the bright side, it looks like I’ll need to see them live again.

That chaotic, kinetic momentum perfectly carried into the final set of the night featuring the Bright Young Things. This was my second time seeing the Bright Young Things and they continue to impress me.

They bring a retro, grooving indie-pop sound that takes inspiration from a multitude of vintage sounds. If you’re craving some 60s Brit-pop, they have a song for it with their latest track “Mary.”

If you’re more into that 70s groove, then you definitely need to check out “Lights Out.”

They don’t take themselves too seriously and just want to have fun, which really shows through things like projecting a Wii Sports boxing match behind them throughout their set and their impressive game of musical chairs.

No, I don’t mean literal musical chairs on stage (however that would have been awesome). Prior to coming together as the Bright Young Things, each member has played in other bands found in the local scene. Their set at the Green Room showcased each of their talents on vocals and different instruments as they continuously shuffled up the lineup throughout the night. Each lineup configuration featured a different cover ranging from “Valerie” to “Everybody Talks.” Each member possesses an impressive level of musicianship on their own, when they combine it’s just off the charts.

The real magic of the night was how each band brought their own distinct brand of fun, allowing the energy of the room to ebb and flow seamlessly from start to finish. We transitioned from Spiderlily’s magnetic, cool-girl allure and anni xo’s charmingly interactive, beer-chugging banter, straight into the chaotic, glasses-losing kinetic energy of Of The Orchard, before wrapping up with the Bright Young Things’ lighthearted Wii Sports-fueled party. It was a perfect sequence of playfulness that kept the crowd completely locked in, proving that there are a dozen different ways to keep a room smiling.

With it’s endless charm and fun-and-games atmosphere, the night was definitley the refreshment I needed to beat the heat.

Tucked away in the quiet neighborhood of Powderhorn, under a canopy of vintage camcorders and twinkling string lights, lies a rising DIY venue where “eating good in the neighborhood” meets a “when you’re here, you’re family” vibe.

The Birdhaus is a meticulously run, artist-first venue with a DIY, lo-fi approach, prioritizing the sacred magic of live performances and the artists who create them. Here, it’s all about quality over quantity. Since the beginning of the year, the radically inclusive venue has hosted 65 bands for a total of 95 sets, numbers that continue to grow.

We sat down with the maestro behind the multi-faceted venue, record label, and rehearsal space, Alex Schaaf, to discuss the origins of his basement empire, the philosophy driving the space, and the neighborhood cat that keeps insisting on crashing the show.

The Origin Story

Standing Wave: What inspired you to start your own house show venue, The Birdhaus?

Alex Schaaf: It’s kind of been natural over time. I wasn’t like, “I want to start a DIY venue”, just like, “I want to do this, which would be cool to do with the house.” It started with doing these little shows called Fresh Cuts, which was just an idea for a type of show that didn’t quite exist yet where 5 or 6 people each do 10 or 15-minute sets of new material. It’s kind of like a songwriter showcase but it has to be new, even if they’re in progress or not totally finished. I just love the idea of that being a show, and the house vibe felt cool for that rather than going to a regular venue if the point is to be laid back and comfortable, because you’re doing stuff you wouldn’t do at a normal show.

They were first upstairs in the upstairs space, and then slowly I started getting the basement. I thought it could work for a space so I put up some [sound] treatments and did a couple of Fresh Cuts, which were not with full bands. Then [after] a couple shows last year, I was like, “Let’s try out this setup with like a full band [and] see if I could do a real show.”

When planning the residency with my band, Yellow Ostrich, this past January, I figured to do a residency in your own home is the dream. Literal residency. That was kind of the big test of does this work sound-wise and infrastructure-wise. Then a couple friends asked about setting up shows with bills that I’m not a part of, which seemed fun. At some point in like March or April, I was like, “What if I just go hard at this and see how it feels to treat it like a DIY venue?”

SW: How did The Birdhaus get its name?

AS: At first, I just named the upstairs space that because I like birds and I have a lot of birdhouses. Then after a show last year, Hilary of Bathtub Cig left a note on the bathroom mirror that said, “We love the Birdhaus,” and I was like, “Yes! That’s it.” The spelling h-a-u-s was the big breakthrough; it feels like a specific spot now.

SW: I know you have the logo also as a tattoo, how did they both come about?

My friend, Calvin Keyes, who has a band Too Champagne, does calligraphy and tattoos. I had the name, The Birdhaus, and asked him to come up with a calligraphy bird for the logo.

I got the tattoo because it was a reminder of Fresh Cuts, because at the time it was just the Fresh Cuts logo, and then a few months ago I solidified it as the main creation. So yeah, just a friend’s little creation.

Feels Like Home

SW: How would you describe personality of The Birdhaus to someone who has yet to walk through it’s door?

AS: Vibey. Comfortable. Welcoming. Something about how great music happens here. [Laughs]

I’d say vibey with my TVs and camcorders and stuff.

I love a house vibe where it just feels comfortable and not like you’re just at a loud bar. I like the idea of a house show vibe but slightly grown up—not in like a judgement way, just that the house show I may have set up in my 20s would be different. For some reason when I think of house shows—which isn’t necessarily true—I think of like loud garage rock bands, which is great and I love that vibe but it’s like what if we did that but not necessarily loud bands? There’s a lot of punk houses but not quite as many places where my band [Yellow Ostrich] could play.

I want it to feel comfortable and organized. This makes it sound boring, but it’s for anyone to come in and know where to go, know how to pay, to have it comfortable for people I don’t know.

SW: What’s your number one rule for anyone coming to a show?
AS: Just don’t be a dick. Oh, and don’t let the cat inside.

[Laughs] I take it there was a certain behind-the-scenes moment that prompted that second rule?

Did I tell you about the cat? A few weeks ago at the Eldest Daughter show, I was downstairs watching the bands and suddenly a cat comes screaming down the basement stairs followed closely by my dog—my dog does not deal with cats.

It was like, “Where’d that cat come from??” I got [my dog] Bosco thankfully, and no one was hurt. Someone outside saw the cat in the backyard and assumed it was mine so they let it in. It was a sweet impulse but that was chaotic.

At the end of the night of the Ghosting Merit show, I was out here and someone came outside asking if I owned a cat. They told me that someone was out front and they let it in because they thought it was mine. It was the same cat so that’s a bit of a funny, unexpected thing to the point it’s on the advance now. It says, “Hey, I don’t own a cat so if you see one, don’t let it inside.”

Live Shows are Sacred and Magical

SW: What do you think sets the vibe here apart from the traditional club/bar venues people go to throughout the Cities?

AS: It’s just taking advantage of the fact that it’s just my house, so I don’t have the overhead that a regular venue would have. It’s kind of an opportunity to do quality over quantity. I’d rather do one show a week that can feel special. Whereas if I had to do it every day, or if I set it up where I had to make a profit, it would just not feel as nice and special for bands. I just want it to feel like this is nice and special. As a musician, you often feel like you’re just cattle going through; it can feel more impersonal just by the nature of how those venues work.

SW: Where do you think is the best spot in the house to watch a show from?

AS: The basement’s so small that it’s like anywhere you can see the bands. or in the spot where there’s the TV that you can watch from the corner. You got choices.

DIY but Kind of Pro

SW: What was the most surprising thing that you learned about running your own DIY venue?

AS: I was surprised at how easy it is and how much it is appreciated by bands and people, without it feeling like I did a ton different from a regular venue. I guess the feedback was better than I expected, which is like a humble-brag way to answer this question. People are just really nice and grateful for every little touch, every little thing that’s different.

Another thing is just how many people want to play here. I was surprised by how quickly it moved from just a space that I play with my band in and my friends’ bands. It’s bands that I don’t even personally know that want to play. I’m surprised just how quickly it’s started feeling more like a regular venue that I’m running.

SW: One of the things that I’ve noticed sets apart The Birdhaus is the transparency on artist pay, what inspired this philosophy?

AS: I’d done some organizing with Twin Cities United Performers (TCUP), and a big part of that was how we can make this a better place for musicians. We polled a lot of people and one of the common complaints was the transparency with venues, not even knowing what the door deal is at the time. Just trying to make it clear to everyone from the start and to make it clear that it’s set up in a way that’s not designed to make me money. I just think it’s always better to have that transparency. It just makes everyone feel better.

SW: You’ve also spent quite a bit of time involved in the local scene with your own bands. How do you think your experience as a seasoned musician has helped shape the operation and philosophies of your venue?

AS: A lot of that is just how my brain works. I love just knowing the answer to every question on what to expect when I come in. My advance email to bands is massive; it’s liked every possible thing you could want to know.

I think a big thing of it, too, is just that I’ve played hundreds of shows and toured all over. Anyone like that has a good sense of what you want at each show and what the pain points are. Some of the TCUP organizing was helpful just to get an idea of what everyone’s main issues with shows an venues were.

And it just collects all my little interests like video and audio recording, old cameras and TVs—I can do all of that in this. I’m not really a live sound engineer so I hire people to do that. It’s just all my experience and knowing people with experience ot ask questions [of] and literally help out

The Birdhaus Community

SW: Pivoting more towards the label side of The Birdhaus, what inspired you to start your own label?

AS: I was on a label with my band back in the day, but since then have just put stuff out myself, which everyone does. I’ve released many things over the years, so having experience with that side of things, I just put my own stuff out on the label—which, at that point, it’s technically a label, I guess. But it’s just kind of a thing you put down. I would have done all of this stuff anyways, but if I give it a label name it makes it sound cooler than just me.

I love the idea of it being like the music scene, but it’s also a smaller, little circle, little squad of friends who are all trying to do the same thing, helping each other out. Not necessarily paying each other, just kind of trading work and help, helping figure out how to release a thing and try to get eyes on it.

SW: Why go through a small DIY label like this versus just releasing it independently yourself, what’s the difference?

AS: One difference is just the financial aspect of it. Apart from that, it’s the little scene aspect of it—the little squad. With the big ones, it’s kind of like name recognition and now you’re associated with these other bands, so people go check them out because they like your band.

In a very basic way, that’s kind of the idea too: if you like my band, you should check out this other record because it’s also put out by this label. Just to have a little family scene kind of thing, just as a way to bring bands together and feel like part of a little team rather than just trying to do stuff on their own.

Archiving and Building to Last

SW: Another cool thing that I’ve noticed is how you record every show that’s done here. What drives you to record and post each set?

AS: I’ve always loved the idea of archiving stuff and archiving shows. I love the idea of going back on your site and seeing sets played in the past. Since it’s in my basement, I know I can record it without much difficulty with the system to get multi-track audio and cameras. It also felt like a nice little bonus as a way to entice bands to come. Even if no one comes, you still get some good videos, which is something we all want. Cool recordings of shows without having to pay someone to do it. By default, they’re all recorded and I’ll put them up on YouTube just to have as a nice bonus. No one may ever watch this for the next year, but I just like the idea that it’s there.

SW: There’s often a lot of turnover with house show venues because they’re usually just rented spaces and people move out. However, you actually own the house. Do you think of this as more of a transient space or are you looking to build something to last?

AS: I want this to last. Since it’s just me, it’s sometimes hard to think about that because everything can just be exhausting. But as long as it feels like a cool vibe, in that it’s doing some sort of service for the music scene and people seem to like this, how can I keep that going?

Art always has a message and something to say.

For Twin Cities organizer-artist Annie Russell-Pribnow, it’s about using that message to connect with people for progressive change through protest art. You might’ve even seen some of these messages moving around the Cities either as flyers or wearables like patches and bandanas.

A perfect example is the flyer Russell-Pribnow designed for this coming weekend’s 10th Anniversary Taking Back Pride March—an annual protest reclaiming Pride’s radical roots against police and corporate involvement in downtown Minneapolis. People can get involved by following TBP on instagram at @takingbackpride, and attending the protest on Sunday, June 28th at 10:00 AM.

But true protest art is more than just a poster for a rally or with the demands of a campaign; Russell-Pribnow leverages it as a tactical piece of movement infrastructure. It’s meant not only build movements, communicating the message of the immediate crisis, but to preserve the movement for the future. The same poster that mobilizes someone today becomes the historical evidence for tomorrow. Long after a campaign ends, these physical artifacts remain as proof that people were there, that they organized, and that they fought for something.

Finding a Place in the Movement

Standing Wave: I’ve genuinely been so excited to do this because I’ve been wanting to talk to you about your art for ages. I know your organizing and artistry are deeply intertwined, but I’m curious about which actually came first for you. So to start, how did you first get into art and organizing?

Annie Russell-Pribnow: After I joined Students for a Democratic Society (SDS) in Fall 2020 and started becoming familiar with the practice of organizing and meeting people in different groups, I noticed that there was a major gap in the movement locally. There was not a lot of emphasis on good graphic design from the actual grassroots movements and I could see how I could help.

During the [Daunte Wright] uprising, I was really mad and then people saw UMPD (University of Minnesota Police Department) at their protest repressing people so then I drew the [Former University President] Joan [Gabel] and her piglets thing. I didn’t tell anyone about it, I drew it and then just kind of left it there for a bit. Then when we were planning out a protest in SDS, I was like, “I designed a little poster we could give out.” I sent it and people kind of lost their shit a bit. I thought maybe I can make an impact on people with art. Then I got really interested in doing it and learned what screen printing was.

SW: It sounds like you saw a need for design in the movement. Rather than just making art for art’s sake, it sounds like your cause for art was making art for a cause.

ARP: Yeah! It motivates me to make more art and it gives me a purpose and a drive. I feel like that’s consistently been a major motivator for me: this is a message that needs to get across, I can get it across.

SW: You’ve talked about digital art and screen printing, what draws you to printmaking?

ARP: The thing I like about it is that it’s a cheap way to make a ton of prints. Part of it is for the art and part of it is because you don’t have to rely on outside sources. You can just make a ton of replicas of the same thing to distribute widely. It’s an undervalued art form because it’s distributed widely so it’s not one painting that’s worth a million dollars—it’s a bunch of prints and it is inherently more accessible to the masses.

Art as Movement Infrastructure

SW: How would you define protest art?

ARP: A lot of people will say that protest art is just political art and make it seem that any art that is explicitly political or has explicit political messaging is protest art. Protest art kind of can be an umbrella term in my opinion, but I think it’s art that is coming from a movement and serving a movement in turn. It doesn’t have to be literally a flyer for a protest or a poster that is advertising the demands of a certain campaign. It doesn’t have to be like that.

It could be like Godzilla with fire coming out of their mouth that says “FUCK I.C.E.” Like that’s protest art. It’s coming from a movement against I.C.E. and it’s in turn serving the movement by creating an emotional connection with people who might not otherwise be hooked in by a sign. It has a special way of drawing people in and resonating with them that I think is what makes it a powerful tool.

SW: You’ve talked about protest art as something that comes from and serves a movement. What does it mean to you to be an organizer artist?

ARP: In general for me, my biggest priority is organizing because I believe that is what will bring about the most change. For my personal philosophy, art in isolation is not going to change the world but art can be a powerful tool to support a movement that would change the world.

Organizing is my top priority in life, generally, trying to get progressive change. I like using art to support the movement [and] the stuff I’m really passionate about is the stuff I make for the movement.

Art supports movements by connecting with people on an emotional level and communicating the message I see, you know, propaganda. Propaganda has a negative connotation in our society, but it’s not actually negative—it’s neutral. It can be for good or bad.

SW: In addition to paper prints, I know that you’ve done things like patches and bandanas. What made you want to also explore cloth printing?

ARP: I like wearable art for protests for movement stuff because a lot of times you can give it out for free and people will wear it around town. Then your message will be seen in a lot more places—they’re like a walking flyer.

SW: You’ve talked about using art as a way of reaching people and moving them to action. What did it mean to create billboards for the Anti-War Committee (AWC) and help bring that message to a broader audience?

ARP: Very soon after October 7th [2023], the Anti-War movement locally needed more hands on deck to make it happen so I started getting involved. AWC got a ton of donations and had enough money to get some billboards to reach a whole new audience of people.

They needed someone to design it and AWC asked me to do it. I was really honored to be asked to do that. It was pretty early, not very long after October 7th so it felt like a pivotal time in changing people’s perceptions about Palestine and Israel.

Preserving Movement History

SW: I heard that you had the chance to do a project with the University Archives at the University of Minnesota. Do you ever stop and think about how one day in the future, this is going to be the records that we have of these movements at this point in time?

ARP: Yes! And that’s why I was so motivated to do it, because we [have] to preserve this shit. When you’re organizing in a movement, you have so much going on that, for most people, archiving what is going on is not at the top of your mind. Having access to a resource like that, it’s like you might as well.

A lot of the student activism history has kind of been lost to the wayside. A lot of different university archives have preserved what they can, but a lot of the time it’s just squirreling away old flyers.

What really interested me was the idea of a student activist group actually working with an archive to actively archive things and help shape the narrative. Because without us having a say, it would just be our flyers. Meanwhile everything the administration does is heavily archived so a lot of the narrative around the movements that are happening is coming directly from an administration—which is who we are fighting.

It’s like having a say in how our movements are remembered and preserved.

Building the Next Movement

SW: One thing that keeps coming up throughout this conversation is the importance of movements carrying their history forward. With the 10th Anniversary of Taking Back Pride happening this weekend, it feels like local movements are highly conscious of this as well. What do you think makes organizing in the Twin Cities so unique?

ARP: I think there is a lot to be said about how organizing consistently outside of crisis is how you build up the movement so that you can handle and endure crises. When there are these uprisings, you already have the foundation in the community and the support and trust in the community that you can both organize through it and not be completely burnt out by the end of it to continue organizing. Then every movement, every uprising becomes bigger than the next, etc.

People have been organizing consistently in the Twin Cities for a really fucking long time. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that we keep having uprisings here because each uprising—even if they may end in quote-unquote failure—builds into the next.

It’s all connected, so even if you’re just getting started in an area that doesn’t have these type of organizations, you’re still creating a foundation for the future.

In the zone.
Locked in.
Flow State.

It’s that feeling when you’re in a whole other place as you become fully immersed in what you’re doing, fully embracing the moment and enjoying the process.

The sold-out night at 7th Street Entry was all about collectively getting lost in the music, allowing yourself to get swept away by the experience with the rest of the room. Each performer transported the audience to a whole new place while never actually leaving the intimate space of the Entry. The entrancing evening lineup featured support from the transfixed Obadiah Gamble and the unstoppable trio Call Me Fritz, culminating in a headlining set by the mesmerizing Colin Bracewell.

However, because flow state is a very individual experience, it can’t be described as a monolith. The night beautifully mapped the full spectrum of immersion with each act bringing their own distinct interpretation of what it means to totally lock in.

Obadiah Gamble introduced this concept through a lens of pure, quiet intimacy. A hush fell over the crowd, eager to hear Gamble as he opened the show and stepped up to the mic with nothing but his guitar.

The simplicity of the performance perfectly showcased the musicality of his dreamy, lovesick indie-pop and diary-esque lyricism as heard in songs like “Weight.” You could feel the passion radiating off him as he stood transfixed, totally surrendering to the music and creating an intimacy so raw it felt as if he were individually singing to each person in the audience.

If Gamble captured the room with his quiet vulnerability, Call Me Fritz ignited it with their hooting-and-hollering rock and roll fueled by a raw, uncontainable energy born from three musicians completely locking into each other. From the jump, they put the room in a chokehold driven by their infectious spirit and their unstoppable momentum on tracks like “The Drive.”

That frenetic intensity and joy didn’t let up until the final note rang out. Watching them perform is like witnessing three best friends having the absolute time of their lives—playing as if they’re the only people in the world and the audience just so happens to be along for the ride.

With the room now fully warmed up, it was Colin Bracewell’s turn to entrance the audience with his own brand of immersion. Teasing his latest material like “Choo Choo,” Bracewell showcases a new bluesy rock and roll sound with some insane swagger-filled, heavy bass lines and gritty guitar hooks.

His sheer musicality was on full display throughout the set, manifesting in the way the rhythm overtook his whole body. With his head nodding and shoulders dropping into the groove, Bracewell was entirely caught up in the physical act of creation. He was completely locked in, letting the music sweep over him as he mesmerized the room.

This performance proved the core truth of the night: an artist’s individual flow state is never isolating, rather it is the very line that connects them to the floor. As deeply as Bracewell locks into his music, he spends just as much energy connecting with his audience. Upon hearing that there was a birthday in the crowd, he sparked a chain reaction identifying every other birthday in the room. Bracewell then led the sold-out crowd in a rousing rendition of “Happy Birthday” for the birthday celebrant collective.

But the night’s truest moment of connection happened when Bracewell stepped down from the stage entirely to perform a completely acoustic rendition of an unreleased song from the comfort of the floor. No mics, no amp—just him, his guitar, and a tight circle of fans. In a small venue known for its intimacy, Bracewell managed to shrink the Entry even further, turning the packed public showcase into a fleeting, deeply private collective experience.

Although locking in is a deeply individual experience, this night showed how flow can be a communal force, uniting a room through collective entrancement. From those deeply swaying and nodding to the rhythm, to those singing along to every word, one thing was clear: the whole room had been completely washed away by the music. The audience hadn’t just watched a performance; they were lost in it right alongside the musicians.

The night was a reminder that when performers and listeners both lock in, the distance between the stage and the floor completely disappears, leaving everyone collectively swept away by the same current, all getting lost in the music.

Earlier this week, the Orlando-based indie rock group 22 in Jersey released their latest single “NGE.” While the title might be shorthand for “never good enough,” the track itself is an overachiever. This is 22 in Jersey’s dreamiest song yet, really leaning into that surf-indie sound. Its energy reflects the beachy feel of their home base of Florida and provides the perfect backdrop for any upcoming late-night, introspective summer drives.

From the self-reflecting lyrics to the dichotomous melodies and rhythm section, “NGE” creates a bittersweet texture that’s so catchy you’ll have it stuck in your head for hours. They sing of trying to stay positive for a previous lover, wanting to continue being there for them even though their time together has ended. Unfortunately, this is at their own expense. As much as they want their lover to stick around, that person is still leaving. This need to stay positive can be heard in the brightness of their atmospheric guitars and upbeat drums contrasted with the wilting melodies of the track. The usage of downward steps gives the impression that they are hesitant to leave the relationship with how they’re using slowed-down, deliberate strides rather than straight-up leaving.

The verses use downward vocal melodies punctuated by short notes, singing of how much they need this person. Meanwhile, the chorus uses more elongated, volatile delivery where the vocals intentionally flip back and forth between registers to highlight the reality of the situation: as much as they try, there’s something in the way and this person continues to slip away.

The guitar solo after the second chorus leads into the emotional climax of the bridge where they finally explain why they continue to torture themselves by hanging on to this person—they were never good alone. What’s worse is that they believe they were never good enough for this person, so even now, when they’re no longer together, they’re still fighting to be good enough.

With summer finally here, it’s time to start building my list of songs of the summer. Without a doubt, “NGE” is on that playlist. It’s such an honest song that captures the exact moment when the sliver of hope that a relationship might start again hasn’t yet been overtaken by the dark reality of being alone. “NGE” is an infectiously catchy, bittersweet anthem for those long summer nights where the road ahead feels just as lonely as the rearview mirror.

Sometimes a trip to the coffee shop and a chat with the barista gets you more than just a much-needed caffeine fix (or a nice cup of soup), but an invitation to a highly-recommended indie rock slumber party at the Turf Club.

With their comfiest sleepwear and a stellar lineup featuring Bright Young Things, afters, and Weeklong Weekend, hosts Oister Boy curated a perfectly well-rounded bill with all the ingredients needed for a party-til-bedtime National Pajama Day bash, with each act pushing the room’s energy higher and higher.

Bright Young Things kicked off the soundtrack of the pajama party on a high note with their dance-worthy indie rock grooves.

They set the bar high with their absolutely infectious, high-energy opener “Cruel,” a track that immediately made the crowd want to get up and jump around. Its sharp, rhythmic guitars perfectly complemented the flowing bassline, making it one hell of an earworm.

Another banger from their set was the introspective, dreamy indie pop leaning track “Mary”. Here, the bright, jangly guitars and its melodic vibe, beautifully reflect the intense longing driving the lyrics.

Scattered throughout their set were covers of “Someday” by The Strokes and “Take Me Out” by Franz Ferdinand. They both blended so seamlessly into the rest of the set, proving just how well the band understands their own sound and their structural inspirations.

Every sleepover needs its gossip session; tonight’s was led by afters. Their sultry vocals enticed the crowd to come closer for the most riveting story imaginable, told through their confessional, deeply relatable lyricism, before pivoting into powerful runs and an incredible range that left the audience screaming for more. Their evocative songwriting is backed by funk-tastic instrumentals including keys and a standout saxophone, adding the perfect touch of whimsy to balance their gravitas.

The tea was piping hot across their setlist with songs like the endlessly catchy “EFF U,” showing off their powerhouse vocals as they lamented a horribly toxic ex over soulful, grooving melodies.

Meanwhile, “GEMINI” is the ultimate “it’s not you, it’s me” anthem about someone that took some casual flirting a little too seriously. It’s a playful, astrologically-excused rejection, complete with a shrug and a cheeky Venus in Gemini.

One of the funniest parts of the show was when Weeklong Weekend finished their first song and apologized for the “f***ing vibe change.” Honestly, there’s no better way to describe the group other than the friend who shows up late and injects a whole new energy into the party. Weeklong Weekend brought an edgier, 2000s garage punk sound with fast guitars and even faster drums. As the penultimate act, they reinvigorated the crowd with their boundless energy, which was fully on display as they jumped around the stage.

In their song “Stars Hollow H.S.,” the urgency of the instrumentals and the blown-out guitars only serve to emphasize the trapped restlessness of the shouted lyrics, which act as the track’s melodic anchor.

Another standout of their set was the incredibly melancholic “Warehouse,” with its desperate longing for things to change and get better. The washed-out vocal effect in the chorus emphasizes the feeling of being fed up with constantly having to wear your sadness and the sheer need to scream out your frustrations.

Finally stepping up to the mic, the hosts of the night to reclaimed the room to drive the set home before bedtime. Oister Boy immediately lit up the room with a high-octane, headbanging finale that turned the Turf Club into a full-blown mosh pit, channeling the chaos into a beautiful, cathartic pay-off. Even with curfew approaching, there was no way anyone was getting to sleep through a sound this ferocious and electric.

Their song “Slip and Slide” opens with some killer, swirling guitar riffs that immediately hooked the crowd. The sharp, melodic lines provided a satisfying contrast to the thrashy energy of the rhythm section, all while their introspective, conversational lyricism questions their choice to keep going back to a bad relationship even when they know it’s not good for them.

They followed that momentum with “My Dog Natas”, where the band showcases their license to shred with the intense, chaotic atmosphere of fast guitars and thrashing drums. Who’d want to go to bed after that insane adrenaline rush fueled by its relentless, breakneck pace?

It’s a good thing I was already in my jammies, because once I got home I was ready to crash after all that movin’ and groovin’. Shoutout to Oister Boy for having us partying til bedtime at the ultimate National Pajama Day rager.

Lights out never sounded so loud.

[FREQUENCY: MINNEAPOLIS, MN]

What does it mean to have courage? To choose to act despite the difficulty and fear?

This is the central question in Joe DiPietro’s show “Conscience”, directed by Sophie Peyton, which recently concluded its regional debut at Theater in the Round Players (TRP) in the West Bank neighborhood of Minneapolis. Through its depiction of Senator Margaret Chase Smith—the only person “woman enough” to stand up to Senator Joe McCarthy and his Red Scare—we learn that courage is not just a sudden impulse, but the continual act of choosing to speak one’s conscience.

The Red Scare, specifically McCarthyism, was the paranoia of an internal Communist threat to the American people in the years following World War II. Senator McCarthy exploited this chaos as an opportunity to consolidate power by asserting that Communists had infiltrated the U.S. government and claiming that he had a list of those that were working in the Department of State.

While her colleagues feared speaking out would be the death of their careers, the newly sworn-in Chase Smith stood boldly on the Senate floor and delivered the “Declaration of Conscience.” In her speech denouncing McCarthy—the one man everyone was too afraid to challenge—she used this opportunity of her first major floor address to remind the nation of the basic principles of “Americanism”: the right to criticize, the right to hold unpopular beliefs, the right to protest, and the right to independent thought. Even though those around her all chose to fold, Chase Smith continued with her integrity and courage, fighting for both the well-being of the American people and for hope.

Given the current political climate, especially in Minnesota,“Conscience” was of timely relevance. The fact that the show was actually a last-minute substitution made two months prior to opening only underscores its necessity. While the production embraces these parallels, they are not the focus of the show. Rather, it is left up to the audience to draw their own connections between the 1950s political noise and the resonance of today’s headlines.

By using a minimalist approach to the production design, it forced the audience to pay close attention to the actors and dialouge itself. The lone desk and chair in the middle of the elevated stage only emphasized how isolating it was for Chase Smith, especially with the assortment of wooden chairs surrounding the platform. These chairs were frequently moved throughout the show to indicate different settings and scene transitions, representing the whirlwind poltical climate of the 1950s. The warm, bright lights of the arena-style theater and the elevated stage platform emphasized the suffocating, constant scrutiny that Chase Smith felt and the fear that McCarthy instilled in his opponents.

The most striking part of the set was the giant crumpled up Declaration of Independence that wrapped around the stage and was plastered on the floor below it, a constant depiction of how little regard McCarthy had for its principles. There were even ripped fragments of it hanging in the rafters above.

Ultimately, the true weight of the production rested on the cast, with each performer delivering a nuanced, compelling performance that brought this historical crisis to life.

The hallmarks of Margaret Chase Smith are how steady and unyielding in her convictions she is. This was wonderfully complemented by the no-nonsense approach that Alison Anderson took with the character, showcasing the keen intellect and relentless spirit that make Margaret tough as nails. This made those few moments of vulnerability really shine. At her lowest point, we see Margaret finally shed her blazer, exposing the true weight that comes with upholding her morals and voicing her doubts. Still, she remains persistent, continuing to find courage even through her own hesitations, making her monologue of the “Declaration of Conscience” that much more impactful.

If Margaret was the steady, moral signal of the show, Joe McCarthy was the chaotic interference—actively fanning the flames of the Red Scare to obscure the truth. While Ron Lamprecht’s Joe initially comes off as a performative “buffoon”, the performance masterfully unmasks the chillingly calculating strategist underneath. Lamprecht portrays a man who both loves to play games with people and is willing to do anything for power, even if it means weaponizing havoc and division for his own personal gain. Lamprecht is unsettlingly effective, nailing Joe’s charming yet abrasive persona. As he becomes increasingly “drunk with power,” the performance shifts from boisterous to borderline sinister, leaving the audience in a state of sustained, visceral disgust.

While the battle between Margaret and Joe occupies center stage, the show’s depth is found in the characters who navigate their respective orbits.

Tim Wollman provides the essential grounding of the show’s heavier themes with an earnest, hopeful portrayal of Bill Lewis. Wollman plays Lewis not just as an ordinary advisor, but as a pragmatic anchor. He is the one who dares to remind Margaret of what is actually at stake, possessing a cold understanding of the “dirty politics” their peers use to legislate. Yet, crucially, he never demands she fold. He believes and trusts in the work they are doing precisely because Margaret is at the helm, creating a portrait of a partnership built on mutual intellectual stamina.

In contrast stands Jean Kerr, played with a calculating edge by Mary Lofreddo. At the top of the show, it may be difficult to grasp why a woman of Jean’s intellect tolerates Joe’s blatant misogyny. However, Loffredo deftly unmasks their shared relentless hunger for power. Over the course of the play, we see Jean come into her own, fully relying on her cleverness to navigate—and take advantage of—the chaos. Jean isn’t just a passive observer of the Red Scare, rather she is a co-architect, choosing to sharpen Joe’s blades to ensure her own seat at the table. A particularly striking detail in the production is how this transition is visualized through the presence of her blazer. Just as it signifies Margaret’s authority, its appearance on Jean marks her own evolution from assistant to co-architect.

In tumultuous times, it’s vital to remember what it means to have courage. While bravery is often a reactive instinct, courage is a continuous choice. Through Anderson’s performance, we see that Chase Smith’s strength wasn’t the absence of fear, but the mastery of it. Regardless of the stakes or the dirty politics that threaten to drown out the truth, “Conscience” shows us the necessity of standing firm. It’s a reminder that everyone has the capacity to speak their conscience. Most of all, it is a reassuring reminder that no matter how messy things get, the chaos does indeed end.

What better way for me to return to the Twin Cities than to see a show by Minneapolis’ own Chutes—an artist I’ve been following since before the release of their debut EP. The band teamed up with Iowa-based alternative group dearborn to co-headline a spring tour across the Midwest. For Chutes’ sold-out hometown show, they played the Pilllar Forum with support from Eli Orion and Asparagus.

The Pilllar Forum is a multi-hyphenate cafe, bar, music venue, and skate shop in Northeast Minneapolis. While the live music aspect of their identity wasn’t originally part of the blueprint, it evolved organically. After a string of successful shows in their cafe space, the Forum acquired the neighboring storefront, creating a dedicated music space. With everyone hanging out and mingling between sets, the venue feels like a spiritual successor to the house shows and DIY venues its showcased acts frequent—intimate, unpretentious, and communal. This was very apparent from the moment I walked in and saw the frontman of Chutes, Ryan Kemp, making the rounds to as many people as possible.

According to their “About” page, the Pilllar Forum is “a place where purpose and passion meet.” I couldn’t agree more with the statement. The Forum is an inclusive all-ages venue that opened in 2022, filling the gap left behind by the wave of smaller venues that closed their doors during Covid. They’ve become a home for the DIYers and house bands that are hungry to play and share their music with the local community. The Forum is all about creating a space where everyone is equal—no velvet ropes, no VIP—and getting those that come through their doors to feel connected through good, loud music and community. As a result of this mentality, the Forum is doing more than just hosting shows; they’re actively keeping the city’s creative pulse alive and welcoming everyone to take part.

On to the music side of things: the theme of the night was nostalgia. A key part of each act’s set was the longing for the days of yesteryear, crooning for the simpler times before growing up got too hard.

Though I wasn’t able to make Eli Orion’s exciting blend of hyperpop, 90’s rock and EDM due to some scheduling, I was in the door just in time for Asparagus.

Asparagus is often described as having a slightly earthy, grassy flavor that has nutty and tender-buttery notes, accompanied by a subtle bitterness.

Sorry—that’s the vegetable.

Asparagus, the band, was founded in Eau Claire, WI and is now split between there and the Twin Cities. Their “alternative ambient tunes” sound expresses their take on nostalgia as the sounds of your favorite childhood summers, with the best still yet to come. They balance this hopeful sound with lyrics lamenting the fact that growing up is hard. This is best captured by their track “2004 Eric”, the title track of their latest release. Over the ‘90s alternative inspired guitars, they attempt to hang onto their increasingly hazy memories of who and what they were back in 2004—not just remembering that version of themselves, but also what it meant to be that person.

They’re a laid back, chill group that doesn’t take themselves too seriously; they’re grounded, much like the vegetable’s earthy flavor. Their dreamy vibe captured the audience and had much of the crowd nodding along. The complexity of that earthiness comes through via their musicality and musicianship, showcased by their instrumental-forward setlist with songs like “Mercer.” The enchanting guitar riffs especially struck me, dancing back and forth with the vocals of the track as if the guitar was a second singer. The ‘90s alternative influence rounds out their sound, just like that subtle bitterness of actual asparagus.

Next up was co-headliner dearborn. Hailing from Iowa City—not Michigan—dearborn brought their brand of alternative music to Minneapolis for their first-ever out-of-state show. They received a warm Twin Cities welcome, with fans of all ages headbanging to wistful, melancholic jams like their latest single “toothache.”

Their take on nostalgia centers on the “what could have beens” of previous relationships. The vocoder effects and distorted guitars only emphasized the distance of the past and the intense yearning to make amends.

Similarly in their song “handyman,” they continue to long for a previous relationship, this time wishing they had done things differently by actually shooting their shot.

Finally, Chutes closed out the night by leaning into the introspective side of the nostalgic theme. Playing through their latest EP Nothing’s Growing in the Yard, they explored the friction of becoming a new person while time slips away.

Songs like “Lawn” and “Morning” served as the emotional anchors of the set. “Lawn” takes a literal look at the passing of time through the changing environment around us, ruminating on the subtle, external shifts that occur as each year passes.

Meanwhile “Morning” hits on the internal realization of just how painfully fast it all happens. Together, they perfectly captured that bittersweet friction of growing up. It felt very fitting to then sprinkle in a throwback cover of Owl City’s “Fireflies”—a song that shares that same desperate wish to slow down time and hold onto the whimsy of youth.

The crowd was absolutely hopping—from those that were dancing in the back to the mosh pit in the center of the room and the brave souls stage-diving off the small elevated stage. But no one was having more fun than frontman Ryan Kemp. My favorite thing about watching any Chutes show is seeing the energy that they bring to every single performance; it’s like the room is a reflection of their own energy and movement, with Kemp playing like he’s in the crowd and jumping right along with us.

At one point during the set, the house lights cut out. Without missing a beat, dozens of flashlights emerged, creating a crowd-sourced spotlight on the band. If there’s any way to sum up a Chutes show, it’s this: a sense of community and mutual appreciation. It’s abundantly clear how much love goes into each performance and the appreciation that exists for everyone along for the ride.

What a hell of a way to come home to the Twin Cities.

Tuning into the unique arts and culture of every city—this is STANDING WAVE.

From basement DIY shows and pop-up art fairs to sold-out tour stops and renowned galleries, STANDING WAVE is about syncing with a city’s cultural rhythm. Whether it’s a local pulse or a global frequency, if it’s vibrating here, we’re tuning in.

Defining Standing Wave

[STATUS: CALIBRATING SIGNAL]

So what exactly is a standing wave?

The way we produce and experience sound is a direct result of standing waves. A standing wave occurs when an incoming incident wave travels through a medium and hits a boundary like the end of a string. This causes the wave to be reflected back towards its source. As the wave retreats, it constructively interferes with the incoming wave, thus creating a larger resultant wave.

However, this only happens at specific resonant frequencies. Frequency is defined as the number of vibrations in a wave, which we perceive as pitch. Resonance refers to when the frequency of an incoming signal matches the natural frequency of the object it hits. Higher resonance means higher energy and a louder sound.

This isn’t just physics—it’s a blueprint for how culture works. It’s the blueprint for STANDING WAVE.

Introducing a New Frequency

[STATUS: SIGNAL ACQUIRED]

Over the years, I’ve called many places home: New Jersey, Minneapolis, Seattle, Orlando, and—once again—Minneapolis. In every city, I make it a point to truly inhabit and experience it, regardless of how long I plan on being there.

No matter where I am, I love exploring all of the culture that a city has to offer. Art, music, film—you name it. At any given moment in time, I’ve found a steady state within the city limits. The city is my medium; its borders are the boundary. Art is the energy that fills the space, traveling through the city to create a cultural wave.

This project showcases the unique artistic communities that exist in the cities that I inhabit by tracing their individual pulses. The incident wave is the art being created and performed here, while the reflected wave is the city’s reaction. It’s not just a band playing; it’s a band playing in that specific city and the energy that stays in the room afterward. This is cultural alignment: art hitting the exact natural frequency of the streets it occupies, amplifying that energy to create both literal and evocative resonance.

If you’re wondering why there’s a science motif for an arts blog…it’s because I’m a complete nerd. In all seriousness, it’s because I’m a creative who spans the gap between art and science. Everything I do is about blending these two together; for example, I’m currently a PhD student in computer science doing research on virtual reality and computer graphics.

I believe Leonardo da Vinci said it best:

“To develop a complete mind: study the science of art; study the art of science. Learn how to see. Realize that everything connects to everything else.”

I’m a firm believer that art and science feed into each other, especially given the many similarities artists and scientist share in their processes. Both strive to create something original that no one else has thought of or tried before. These science motifs intertwined with the arts content reflect that belief. Plus, it gives me an excuse to do a deep dive into the concepts that fascinate me.

Setting the Tone

[STATUS: SIGNAL ACTIVE]

STANDING WAVE is about finding resonance within the places we inhabit, no matter where they are.

It’s about finding the frequency of a city’s culture and connecting with it. This is for those who aren’t just visiting—it’s for those who want to feel in sync with the place they call home, regardless of its permanence. It’s about finding cultural alignment to create transient resonance: the sweet spot where the art and the city perfectly sync up; where we can vibrate deeply with a place even when we know we are only there for the duration of a half-life.

STANDING WAVE is about full spectrum culture.

We trace the local scene to capture the most reliable signal of the city—art, music, film, everything. We find the peak energy at High Amplitude live scenes, zoom in on Focal Points through our reviews, and map Interference Patterns through deep dives with the creatives themselves. It all culminates in finding the Resonant Frequency: that deep, lasting vibration that defines a place. We document human creativity across every aspect of the local scene, understanding why a city feels the way that it does through what’s happening on the ground.

We’re not going to lie: we get a little nerdy with it here. But don’t worry, you don’t need a degree to tune in—just focus on feeling the resonance.

No filter, just frequency. We report on whatever is making noise right now. Live from a city near you: tracing the city heartbeat.

Welcome to the broadcast. This is STANDING WAVE.

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