JUMP Fall 2014: The Outsiders Issue

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FALL 2014ISSUE #15

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CONTENTS | Issue #15 FALL 2014

THE JUMP OFF

COVER sTORiEs: THE OUTsiDERs

FOOD THAT ROCKs

Heat Thunder, Marian Hill, Family Vacation, Jimmy DaSaint, The Burgeoning, Cape Wrath, Relapse Records, ILL Doots, Spotted Atrocious, Satellite Hearts, Snoozer, Only on Weekends, TwizzMatic, Chris Cabott, Vilebred, Communion Club Night and Rich Quick.

In this issue, we celebrate the people who rep Philly even though they live just outside city limits.

Catching a concert at the Tower Theater? Here are a few places to have a few drinks and get a bite to eat before or after the show.

MUsiC & EDUCATiONJr. Music Executive teaches young people how to survive in the music business world.

FRONT COVER: Can music save the city? by Adam Smith of Scouts Honor Media Co. BACK COVER: The Wonder Years, by Jessica Flynn.CONTENTS PAGE: (top to bottom) Marian Hill, by Michael Bucher; Kindred The Family Soul, by G.W. Miller III; Dan "Soupy" Campbell, by Jessica Flynn.

THis PLACE ROCKsThe Tower Theater in Upper Darby has a storied history. Ardmore Music Hall offers quality music to the Main Line. Plus, check out our map listing some of our favorite non-Philly venues.

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46 iNsiDE VOiCEsBooker, promoter, sound tech and musician Jake Detwiler isn't even 21 yet and he's already fighting the battle between being jaded and staying creative.

Philadelphia began focusing on arts and culture as a tool for revitalization 20 years ago. It's worked well so far. But we've reached a delicate point. Competition has increased while our tax base has shifted and institutional funding has dried up. Schools remain a mess and the future of the city is in limbo. Can music save the city?

Phil Nicolo started his recording career in the attic of his family home. He went on to produce some of music's biggest hitmakers. Soon he may open shop in Beijing.

MUsiC & POLiTiCsHelen Haynes, a longtime artist and arts advocate, is the new chief cultural officer for the city of Philadelphia.

Dan "Soupy" Campbell and his bandmates in The Wonder Years left Philly for the suburbs. The move has impacted the music they make.

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publisher

G.W. MILLER III

managing editor

CHRIS MALO

deputy editors

MICHAEL BUCHER, BETH ANN DOWNEY

contributors

TONY ABRAHAM, LISSA ALICIA, KYLE BAGENSTOSE, SOFIYA BALLIN ,

RACHEL BARRISH, TIMOTHY BECKER, CHRIS BROWN, CARY CARR, CHARLES SHAN CERRONE, JUMAH CHAGUAN,

GABI CHEPURNY, ASHLEY COLEMAN, RICH COLEMAN, ANEESAH COLEY, KEVIN COOK, DARRAGH DANDURAND,

CHESNEY DAVIS, RACHEL DEL SORDO, GRACE DICKINSON, KELSEY DOENGES, KEVIN DORAN, LAURA FANCIULLACCI,

CHRIS FASCENELLI, JESSICA FLYNN, JEFF FUSCO, JESSICA GRIFFIN, KATE HARROLD, SHAWN HILEMAN, TYLER HORST, LUONG HUYNH, PAUL IMBURGIA, GRETA IVERSON, MINA LEE, MATTHEW LEISTER,

MORGAN JAMES, JENELLE JANCI, SEAN KANE, RICK KAUFFMAN, DONTE KIRBY, MEGAN MATUZAK, KATE McCANN,

TERESA McCULLOUGH, JASON MELCHER, NIESHA MILLER, TIESHA MILLER, PETER MILOS, DAVE MINIACI, BRENDAN MENAPACE,

SARAH MOORE, ED NEWTON, TIM O'DONNELL, URSZULA PRUCHNIEWSKA, ABIGAIL REIMOLD,

MARIE ALYSE RODRIGUEZ, CHAD SIMS, ADAM SMITH, BRIANNA SPAUSE, KEVIN STAIRIKER, BRITTANY THOMAS,

JONATHAN VAN DINE, JARED WHALEN, BRIAN WILENSKY

ZAKEE VAUGHN (R.I.P.)

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BOOK STORES, COFFEE SHOPS, UNIVERSITIES, CLUBS AND OTHER PLACES WHERE MUSIC LOVERS HANG OUT.

IF YOU WANT MAGS AT YOUR LOCATION, EMAIL US [email protected].

JUMP is an independent magazine published by Mookieland Inc.

We are not owned by Temple University nor anyone else other than Mookieland, which is a company named after the publisher's dog.

The company was created in 2010 specifically to launch this magazine.

We have no money. We need your advertising dollars to print this mag, which promotes the local music scene. By supporting JUMP, you are

supporting the local music scene.

This is a full-on, DIY, community effort. If you want to get involved, if you have story ideas or if you just have something to say, email us at

[email protected], tweet us @JUMPphilly and find us at facebook.com/jumpphilly.

Philly rocks. Spread the word.

Publisher's Note

Back in high school, my buddy Rob Brown made a mixtape for me that included Wreckless Eric's "Whole Wide World." It's a weird little song by a barely-known British artist who acheived modest fame in the '70s but man, this song fucked with my life. "When I was a young boy," Eric sings in his high-pitched, melancholy lilt, "my mama said to me: there's only one girl in the world for you and she probably lives in Tahiti." Imagine! The love of your life may not be around the corner, in your hometown or even your own country! Even if you do find that person you think is perfect for you, how do you know the ultimate person is not elsewhere in the world, lying on a tropical beach somewhere, underneath the tropical sun? Eric says that he'd go the whole wide world just to find her. Well, that sent me on a quixotic, life-long, Ted Mosby-esque search for the perfect partner, a quest that continues to this day. What if some of our greatest artists had not pursued their dreams and instead settled for what was around them? What if they had not left the comforts of their familial lands and ventured to far-off places where they met, worked with and challenged their contemporaries? Would Hemingway have become a legend if not for the criticism he received from Gertrude Stein and their Lost Generation friends in Paris? Would The Doors have have existed if Jim Morrison, a miltary brat who graduated from a high school in Virginia, had not gone to Los Angeles to attend college? Would half the acts you think of as Brooklyn bands actually be well known if they had stayed in Cincinnati (The National), Edina, Minnesota (The Hold Steady) or Middletown, Connecticut (MGMT, which formed while the bandmates were at Wesleyan University)? Maybe. But maybe the likes of David Longstreth would have collaborated with his former Yale classmates rather than move to Brooklyn, where he formed Dirty Projectors. And that defining sound of Brooklyn indie rock might have never been born. It's rare that your John Lennon's of the world grow up amongst the likes of the Paul McCartneys. Of course, we spawned The Roots and the amazing wealth of talent that fomented at the High School for Performing Arts in South Philly. But most people aren't so fortunate. They wind up settling for what is around them and then, more often that not, fizzle out (Destiny's Child, anyone?). This issue is dedicated to the folks who live near but not in Philadelphia. They play Philly often and then drive home to Cherry Hill or Doylestown or West Chester or wherever. Ugh. Why? These days, you can be anywhere and make music. Why not here? We're much more affordable than Brooklyn and we are bursting with talent. Your next bandmates might be sitting at a bar in Fishtown or East Passyunk or West Philly, just waiting for you to show up. Rather than have everyone wandering the whole wide world, let's all meet here. Let's make Philly the locus of creativity.

- G.W. Miller III

Whole Wide World

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CAPE WRATH p. 14 / RELAPSE RECORDS p. 15 / ILL DOOTS p. 16 /

SPOTTED ATROCIOUS p. 17 / SATELLITE HEARTS p. 18 / SNOOZER p. 19 /

ONLY ON WEEKENDS p. 21 / TWIZZMATIC p. 22 / CHRIS CABOTT p. 22 /

VILEBRED p. 23 / COMMUNION p. 24 / RICH QUICK p. 25 /

FAMILY VACATION p. 11 / JIMMY DaSAINTp. 12 / THE BURGEONING p. 13 /

The JUMP Off

INSIDE: HEAT THUNDER p. 9 / MARIAN HILL p. 10 /

HOMETOWN HEROES: Will Chamuris (L to R), Matthew Philips, Joe Montone and Luming Hao of Heat Thunder in Northern Liberties.

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The JUMP Off

Bringing The Heat To DoylestownJoe Montone's project Heat Thunder has been playing Philly a lot lately. But Montone's real passion is building the music scene in his hometown.

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that we’re really putting ourselves into the music. I think people respond to the honesty of the music. There’s just no guard up. It’s just, ‘These are our songs. We’re going to play our hearts out and I hope you like it.’” “It’s sort of like I’m bringing the skeleton,” adds Montone. “I’ve been in situations where I’ve been in bands and it’s like, ‘I’m just going to play this.’ But letting the space be open and shared is super important to me.” Last month, this sharing and caring band released its new single “River Song,” which was tracked to analog tape at Headroom Studios in Northern Liberties by engineer Kyle Pulley. A music video for the song “Wearin’ Black” is also in the editing phase and tentatively slated for a fall release. Heat Thunder keeps busy, all while playing a steady slew of shows in Philly and Doylestown. Montone lived in the city previously but his job, friends and the quaint vibe of his hometown keep him happy. Plus, he’s still got some work to do building the local scene to go from “hometown guy” to “hometown hero.” “I feel as though it is pretty important to have a local scene to call your own,” he says. “It’s super important to get exposed to music from somebody else. I feel like that’s what’s also detrimental to the scene here. So many kids will just go on a website and be like, 'This is what I listen to ... This is what is being, like, fed to me.' But I feel as though I wouldn’t have such a giant range of musical inspiration if it wasn’t for that initial push to be like, ‘This is all shared and this is passed down.’ So I think that is part of the reason why there isn’t a thriving local scene. No one is sharing right now.” - Beth Ann Downey

Joe Montone is what you would call a “hometown guy.” It’s a cool summer night in downtown Doylestown and Montone – the frontman for eerie, atmospheric rock band Heat Thunder – is afraid to be interviewed outside. He knows too many people will stop to greet him. “See, this is what’s going to happen,” he says from inside LA Tacos after a friend taps on the restaurant’s glass and offers a wave. “It’s gonna be wild.” His hometown feels small to Montone but he’s managed to do a lot for it. Montone is integral to the compact but flourishing music scene that’s cropped up downtown, playing in a local band and booking shows at both Siren Records and Maxwell’s on Main, more commonly known as M.O.M.’s. “It felt like the hierarchy of people invested in the scene not disappeared ... but nobody was able to hold the ropes up,” Montone says of a previous lull in Doylestown’s live music offerings. “So it was super dead for two years. I remember walking around and being like, ‘It’s so quiet.’ Then I started booking shows.” Despite his commitments here, Montone still spends a good amount of time in Philadelphia, where Heat Thunder’s reputation is on the rise. Joined by guitarist Luming Hao, bassist Matthew Philips and drummer Will Chamuris, the band has been gigging frequently and gaining buzz. Chamuris, who also plays percussion and keyboards in indie rock act Commonwealth Choir (which was also spawned in Doylestown before the bandmates moved to Philly), says creating a connection with an audience is made easier by the free, open space Heat Thunder creates with one another as musicians. “Joe does a great job of creating a really healthy writing space where we can all just kind of be free,” Chamuris says. “I think that translates to our show,

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SCENE BUILDERS: Will Chamuris (L to R), Matthew Philips, Joe Montone and Luming Hao in Northern Liberties.

The JUMP Off

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In November, they appeared in the pages of NME magazine, on their Radar list of new bands to check out. In February of this year they played their first show at Boot & Saddle. Jon Caramanica wrote about them in The New York Times in March, around the time their first EP, Play, was released. Following that, they did a short tour through California. The five tracks on their Soundcloud have more than 1.5 million plays. Adding the three remixes, boosts the numbers by another 650,000 plays. Not bad for a group that has only officially been together for less than two years and that you may not have heard of. Yet. Marian Hill is a two-piece electro R&B/blues group, comprised of vocalist Samantha Gongol and producer Jeremy Lloyd. Both were raised in the Havertown, Pennsylvania area, becoming friends in school. Back then they both had their own musical talents and interests which would come to intersect in a place like a school play. Gongol had to kiss Lloyd during an 8th grade performance of “The Music Man.” “The show went off without a hitch,” says Gongol with a laugh. “I looked great,” adds Lloyd. “I was in a nice suit. I was looking sharp. I was an attractive kid back then.” Today, the two 24-year-olds sit on the concourse

lobby of the Kimmel Center, days away from their first festival performance at the XPoNential Music Festival. Lloyd is dressed in a soft blue T-shirt, shorts, brown shoes and messy brown hair, Gongol’s blonde lioness mane falls over her 5-foot-1-inch frame and a floral halter top, completed with a black skirt and heels. Lloyd went on to Yale, where he graduated with a degree in theater and music, while Gongol received a music business degree from NYU. Lloyd was focused on making music while Gongol had her eyes set westward, wanting to pursue a career in top lining. But during spring break in 2013, when they got together to share what each had been working on, it produced a different result, a different path. Lloyd played Gongol the track that would eventually become their first single, “Whiskey.” “I think a big thing we locked into with that track and that we have been working to embrace going forward is that a lot of that glossier music, the vocalist doesn’t matter that much,” explains Lloyd. “It’s the sound, the atmosphere of the song

and the vocal fits into that. Where as with this we have this beat that’s big and taking up lots of space but it’s nowhere the vocal is so the vocal can totally exist on its own. It’s big for me that we never tune her vocals. We never double her vocals.” When Lloyd sent “Whiskey” out to blogs, it garnered enough attention and interest that the two continued to work together, producing the tracks for what would become the Play EP.

“We were able to test with ‘Whiskey’ and be like, ‘Okay, this is something that people are connecting with that we love too,’” Lloyd explains. “And then we’re like, let’s dive into it. Let’s make more. And people have been really responsive.” Lloyd and Gongol wanted to introduce the world to Marian Hill and to give hints at what they are capable of. “Play” is up-tempo, while “Breathe Into Me” slows things down. “Lovit” was to keep the “Whiskey” buzz

going. As they were wrapping up the EP and the initial buzz was dying down, they released “One Time.” “One Time” would eventually get remixed by the likes of Marcè Reazon (whose production and engineering credits include Kanye West, John Legend, Wale, Kid Cudi and Troy Ave), Canadian producer Imanos and Philadelphia producer and DJ, Bear One.

The Essence of TruthThe duo behind Marian Hill grew up together in Havertown.They reconnected during a college spring break, started making music and now they're getting international press.

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“Once I heard them, I was instantly drawn to their music,” says Bear. “I'm a huge fan of the mixture of downtempo, chill and soul. Plus they're from Philly! For his remix of “One Time,” Bear says he wanted to add some raw drums and an 808 to add some punch to the original. He kept the original hook. Once Philadelphia-based rapper Sugar Tongue Slim added his vocals, it was a wrap. “They got that vibe to their sound that puts you in a mood,” Slim says of Marian Hill. What kind of mood? “An I-just-want-to-clear-my-head type of mood,” Slim continues. “Which actually inspires me to get back to rapping cause I too want to make amazing music and master my craft as they have done.” For live performances, Marian Hill is joined by Steve Davit, who plays bass and saxophone. “They both put so much soul and energy into the music, it makes it hard not to dance while I play,” says Davit. “Jeremy and I have always bounced our musical ideas off of each other, even though our tastes in music don't always match. But when I first heard the demo of ‘Whiskey’ and how great Sam sounded on top of Jeremy's new production style, I knew people were going to dig it.” While the fans seem to get lost watching Gongol swoon on stage, Lloyd gets lost in recreating the music, triggering samples, playing keys and controlling filters. His body flails and spasms, appendages flying in all directions, but his eyes never leave the deck. “I'm still amazed at how quickly Jeremy was able to create an instrument to play everything,” Davit says. “He has taken his love of performance and integrated it into an electronic medium.” “It was important to me to be very active,” says Lloyd. “There was a point when I realized, ‘This is my instrument now.’” “Translating what we do and what people hear online into this live act is something completely different,” Gongol adds. “It takes a while to let everything go. Let your preconceptions and your fears and just to let it out and let it out on stage.” The previous night, Marian Hill had been up until 3 a.m., spending one hour on a single line of a song. The themes touched in the group’s music are subjects that may or may not be personal but they are certainly topics of intrigue for the duo. “I think relationships are really beautiful and they can be messy and complicated,” says Gongol. “And I really like the idea of forbidden love.” She references a book she is currently reading where a character has a relationship with her cousin. “That’s so foreign and taboo and forbidden,” she adds. “I’m intrigued by really complicated relationships.” “Dramatically rich,” adds Lloyd. “I definitely think of the both of us as being students of human behavior. Yes, our songs aren’t pages of our diaries, but there is certainly a sense for me in everyone that there is a really true feeling that we have observed in others or felt in ourselves. The way I have always written is that you find that true thing and then you’re writing a song that expresses that thing, and then you write that song. It’s not about the details being true, it’s about that essence being true.” - Christopher Malo

Family Vacation says Philly never really had an indie scene, which is fine by them. “If there’s no indie scene then it’s ours for the taking,” says Luke Harsel, vocalist and guitarist of the indie pop rock outfit. The band is gathered on a quiet Friday evening on Temple University’s campus, where all members currently attend, at the Saxby’s coffee shop before closing. Family Vacation formed inside their freshmen dorms when they all started jamming together. Though they stay true to their dreamy rock sound and fun, vivacious style, Family Vacation takes some of its musical inspiration from local punk-leaning bands like Hop Along and Little Big League. “I listen to music that sounds nothing like us,” says drummer Adam Shumski. Harsel says he’s proud that the Philly music scene is more punk-based right now, because that gives Family Vacation the opportunity to stand out. And the other members agree. “I think any coverage of underground music in Philly is awesome,” says Cody Bluett, guitarist and lead vocalist. “The punk sound has a big effect on the other less-known indie rock that’s happening. I know it has for us.” Bluett, who was studying abroad in Rome this past spring in pursuit of his fine arts degree, has recently rejoined the lineup. Alex Hines, who is also the bassist and backup vocalist for indie folk band Maitland, filled in during his absence. Since Bluett’s return to the States, Hines has gone from a temporary to permanent member of the band while previous guitarist, Matt Kerr, has left to pursue his teaching career. Hines has remained on bass while Bluett has taken backing vocal responsibilities and picked up the guitar once again. Family Vacation is working on recording a few

new songs following the release of their latest LP, Trails, which came out September 2013. That release was well received as the band promoted the album by going on a small East Coast tour with their best Philly indie rocker buds, Keepers (whose lead guy, Pat Cassidy, recently took the place of Mark Larson in The Districts). Family Vacation makes note that people are more receptive to shorter releases over a shorter amount of time rather than a new album once every two years or so. They have plenty of songs to release a new album, but are holding off until they have something solid. As far as playing live shows, they were pretty happy to be playing some at some all-ages venues being that half the members were under 21 up until very recently. The problem stems from promoters, venue owners and managers assuming that bands under 21 will have a difficult time drawing a crowd. “I try to be excited rather than get down about it,” Bluett mentions. “Being a younger band, it means we have more time to grow and change.” “It makes it easier to prove people wrong,” Harsel adds. Family Vacation is proud of the fact that they’re starting out so young with the ability to grow, even if that means being forced to balance work and school. “It’s better than being in school and not being in a band,” says Harsel. With what’s to come for the band and going into their senior year in college, the Family foursome definitely has an exciting road ahead of them. “The name Family Vacation is starting to be viewed in a much different light now,” says Bluett. “Almost less of a carefree nostalgia and more the weight of realizing the people we’ve become.” - Rachel Barrish

Barely Legal indie HustlersThe guys in Family Vacation are still college students. But they have major musical ambitions: take over the indie rock scene in Philly.

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The JUMP Off

regrouped and attempted to rebuild their legacy. These ambitions, however, were short-lived. In 2000, DaSaint was arrested for the distribution of narcotics. At the time, he was in his late 20s. He was sentenced to spend the next decade of his life in a federal prison. Making the best of a bad situation, DaSaint made the conscientious decision to start fresh. Rather than dwelling on what would happen after his release, he used his incarceration to create something from his experiences. While in prison, DaSaint began writing novels. Drawing from his life, his writings became relatable stories of street life and gang violence. “I just had so much to talk about,” DaSaint says. While in prison, DaSaint says he wrote more than 25 novels. In 2003, A&B Distributors, a Brooklyn-based publisher, discovered his work and signed him to a two-book publishing deal. Since then, 15 of his novels have been published, and he says he has 15 more ready to go. His books often surround familiar themes of street violence, drugs and hip-hop culture and they frequently use Philadelphia as the geographic backdrop. “That’s why my novels stand out,” DaSaint says. “It’s coming from a real individual who went through real situations in life. I had to face them, but I’ve overcome them all.” Upon his release in 2009, the artist quickly began rebuilding. “It wasn’t bad for me,” DaSaint says. “I had a name in the book world and in the music world. It was just gradually getting back in the swing of things.” In addition to promoting his books, DaSaint began publishing Urban Celebrity Magazine, a hip-hop lifestyle print publication. “Stay persistent,” is DaSaint’s mantra. “Jimmy has true fans that extend past the bars of his core readers,” says Tiona Brown, managing editor of Urban Celebrity Magazine. “Although many of his fans are incarcerated, I’ve seen his books capture a diverse population.” For the last four years, he has put his focus on music. He runs his own publishing company, DaSaint Entertainment, which produces hip-hop and R&B groups and promotes concerts throughout the city. He works with several artists, including Young Savage, Brill Gates and FYI. And he runs the Philly Hip-Hop Awards. DaSaint and I.C.H. have regrouped, releasing multiple albums and singles, including the group’s 2013 album, Riding on my Enemies. “I’m just doing a lot,” DaSaint says. “But I do it for the city.” DaSaint plans to keep pushing forward with his music and publishing. While he says writing is on the backburner, he has still managed to write three books since his release from prison. Future endeavors include expanding into script-writing and movie production. DaSaint attributes his success to personal persistence, ambition and the help of those around him. “When people see you trying to do something for yourself, people feel that positive energy,” DaSaint says. “People pick that up and want to help you reach and achieve your goals.” - Jared Whalen

speaking From The streetsRapper-turmed-novelist Jimmy DaSaint uses his personal experiences for his artistic outlets.

“I’m from the streets,” says former federal inmate Jimmy DaSaint, a man of many titles. “I’ve been through it all and I’ve seen it all. The music industry, the streets, the drug dealing, prison. I’ve been shot and I’m saying, ‘I’ve been through it.’” DaSaint is a multitalented artist with a colorful past. His persistent work ethic has launched him into the spotlight as an urban novelist and icon in the Philadelphia rap community. But as often is the case, ambitious minds have dark motivators. As a youth, DaSaint was introduced to the harsh realities of the West Philadelphia streets. By the

time he was 15, he says he was arrested multiple times for burglary, trespassing and fighting. DaSaint managed to pull his life together and graduate from high school. In the early ’90s, he fronted the rap group Inner City Hustlers and began making a name for himself in Philadelphia. In 1995, tragedy struck when four members of the I.C.H. family were murdered in a small Philadelphia row home. The horrors of violence continued in 1997, DaSaint recounts, when he was shot multiple times, leaving him in a coma for a month. Upon his recovery, the members of I.C.H.

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Growing And FlourishingIndie band The Burgeoning plan to hit the road this fall to reach new fans.

Logan Thierjung sits on a couch in the basement of the Levittown home that doubles as a practice space and studio. His house/bandmates stand with their instruments. Behind them, a mural made by friend Pierina Medina depicts a forest and mountains with the band’s name, The Burgeoning, in bold letters across the sky. “The name was a 10th grade vocab word and I thought it was amazing,” explains Thierjung. “It means to grow and flourish.” The Burgeoning consists of Thierjung, the lead vocalist and rhythm guitarist (described by his bandmates as “the guy you pay to see”), his brother Alex Thierjung on bass, Mark Menkevich on lead guitar, keyboard and synth, and drummer Brandon Bradley. The band went through a few lineup changes to get to their current formation. “Every time we would have a big show, someone would quit,” says Bradley. The member who Menkevich replaced quit after a 2013 show at the TLA, the biggest show they had done up to that point. The drummer before Bradley left to follow a more professional career path. Bradley pats Menkevich on the back and refers to

him as the missing piece of the puzzle that finally makes the indie pop rock band whole. Although the Thierjung brothers – the founding members of the band – are from Bensalem, they consider Philadelphia their home music scene. The other two current members are from the city. “All of our shows are in Philly,” says Alex. To broaden their fan base, the band is planning to embark on their first official tour this fall. “Normally how Philly shows go is: people come to see their bands,” explains Bradley. “Then they leave.” With all the competition from great bands coming out of Philadelphia, Logan wants The Burgeoning’s live performance to have a lasting impression. He wants to engage the audience so much that the relationship between the band and fans is familiar, like family. “Our music is real strict with placement,”

says Bradley. “That’s why Nirvana was good. Everything was there for a reason. That’s what we’re looking for.” “Alex has this really fine ear that catches the slightest things when we’re playing,” adds Menkevich. “Then we fine tune it until we get it right.” The Burgeoning’s most recent release was

their EP Love Alchemy, Life Algorithm back in 2012. “We’ve changed our sound three times since then,” says Alex. The band has been working on a new single and debating what to do with the 54 gigabytes of stored up music from

their practice sessions. They have at least 16 full songs written by Logan at the ready, although not yet recorded properly. Whatever they decide, the band is confident that their next move will be major. “We’re at, like, the last piece of the engine before we drive that shit,” says Logan. - Donte KirbyPh

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Reel to Real Music Jamie Glisson of Cape Wrath is making music and films thanks to inspiration from her grandparents and their old home movies. When her former band drove through Baltimore on its last tour, Jamie Glisson spotted a massive ship docked on the water. Painted on its side was the name “Cape Wrath” – derived from the Old Norse language for turning point, in reference to the most northwestern point of Scotland known for its treacherous waters. “Something about it just lodged in my brain and resonated,” Glisson says. “I thought, ‘That’s going to be the name of my next project.’” Cape Wrath is Glisson’s mixed media project, combining her ambient, acoustic-based rock music with self-made videos. In April, the 28-year-old Fishtown resident launched her “12 in 12” campaign, for which she is releasing 12 songs with companion films over the course of the next year. Alex Santilli, owner of the newly opened Spice House Sound in Fishtown, is working with Glisson to record and master the project. Glisson is one of the first acts to release music from the studio. When she and Santilli began recording together, the beams and insulation of the studio were still exposed. “It’s a super interesting and practical way to do things,” Santilli says of the “12 in 12” campaign. “We can continue releasing things and people can continue listening and it sort of builds and builds. Instead of releasing an album all at once and going, ‘Oh, OK, there it is,’ people have something to look forward to wait for.” Incorporating film into the project is an homage to Glisson’s grandfather.

About five years ago, she began transferring his reel-to-reel footage to digital and splicing it with her own footage.

“It was really special to kind of carry on a family hobby,” she says. Glisson says her grandparents were also part of her inspiration to start Cape Wrath. She visited them in Norway while traveling through Europe in July, a trip she also took in order to write and gather footage for the project. While she’s beginning to experiment with more planned

videos, Glisson says most of her film work has an undirected feel. She keeps her Canon Rebel nearby in case spontaneous

inspiration catches her eye. “It could just be the way that the sun is catching a spider web,” she says.

“Or it could be that I’m having coffee with a friend who’s really beautiful in that moment.” When it comes to the audio aspect of the “12 in 12” project, Glisson says that Santilli is her perfect counterpart to work with.

“His brain and the way that he approaches engineering is very esoteric, very scientific,” she says. “I’m kind of the opposite. I’m very emotional and maybe sensational. So, it’s a really interesting marriage of meaning and form.” “My job is to take her affectation and translate it so it comes across to a listener,” adds Santilli. The “12 in 12” project has been one of the easiest he has ever worked on, Santilli says, thanks to Glisson’s detailed foresight and the amenable musicians joining them in the studio, including Joey Getz, John Lattanzio and Will Stichter. The first three songs of the campaign were tracked in a single day. Santilli’s approach to recording Glisson has been centered around her larger-than-life vocals. While he says she has “the most beautiful voice,” Santilli aims for a more minimalistic sound than Glisson’s previous album, adding parts that come in and out along with very simple accents to her voice. Glisson’s music also has a bit of lyrical darkness, Santilli says. “I wanted it to have that quality,” he says. “You enjoy the music but if you listen to the lyrics, you might get an entirely different vibe.” During the school year, Glisson works as a full-time, in-classroom tutor with sophomores and juniors at a high school in North Philly. Her scholarly habits show in her lyrics’ subject matter – just a few of the topics she’s currently studying include mystic writers, ecstatic poetry and esoteric traditions. Glisson says she aims to write about her own journey while reflecting “the light of the divine.” “Lyrically, I want there to be an integrity that’s worthy of asking people to listen to what I’m saying,” she says. - Jenelle Janci


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In 1993, three years after forming in founder Matt Jacobson's parents’ basement in Aurora, Colorado, Relapse Records released its first compilation. Highlighting the label's roster at that time, it included acts such as Suffocation, Incantation and Anal Cunt. The disc's cover featured a tall skyscraper adorned with the Relapse logo. The liner notes featured photos of Jacobson and company in suits, sitting around a boardroom. For a company still operating out of a basement, the presentation couldn't have been further from the truth and yet folks were duped. "When you have your product out there with the bigger names," Jacobson explains, "people just assume you're that big." Relapse's operations didn't stay in the basement for long. Jacobson's parents announced that they would be moving to Minnesota and Jacobson opted not to follow them. Instead, he moved the label to Lancaster, Pennsylvania, where his business partner at the time had a space for them to work. Eventually the lack of any semblance of a scene and the town's conservative and "culturally suffocating" nature forced the label to move once again. It had reached a point when staying in the area was actively affecting business. "We had a record that we were getting ready to ship," he says. "On deadline day, the printer that we were working with returned the art files and said they

wouldn't do the job because they were offended." In 2000, Relapse left Lancaster and the team set their sights on Philadelphia. "Philly just offered a lot of what we didn't have before," Jacobson says. However, opening up a business in a major city brings with it some hefty tax implications. To avoid that potential burden, the label set up shop in nearby Upper Darby, where they continue to operate to this day. Coinciding with the move was the fact that the label was becoming more in demand. "From 2000 to about 2005, two things were happening," says Relapse Vice President Rennie Jaffe. "People were still buying CDs in mass before the pirated MP3 explosion and extreme metal was blossoming commercially." Over that five-year stretch, Relapse released albums by bands like Mastodon, Dillinger Escape Plan, Nile and High on Fire. All four bands would go on to major labels. As those bands grew in popularity, Relapse continued to add to their roster. Today, they find themselves releasing albums by bands who have been influenced by former Relapse artists. Jaffe cites the psychedelic doom

solid MetalRelapse Records has been releasing some of the best metal music for nearly 25 years.

outfit Inter Arma from Richmond, Virginia as a group shaped by Mastodon and High on Fire. "They were probably in middle school when Leviathan came out," Jaffe says, referring to Mastodon's seminal 2004 album which,

among critics, is considered to be the most important metal album of the last 15 years. The Relapse influence, in fact, extends even further than bands. In the past few years, Ardmore-based Tired Hands Brewing Company

has worked with Relapse artists such as Baroness and Tombs to develop limited-edition brews celebrating the bands’ latest releases. Tired Hands founder Jean Broillet IV grew up in Upper Darby and is a tremendous fan of heavy music. "I don't have to educate those dudes on Tombs or Baroness or Death," Jaffe says of the Tired Hands staff. "That all comes from [Broillet]. He's just genuinely into it." Next year, Relapse will celebrate 25 years as a label. Their office space in Upper Darby has gotten smaller over time. What used to be mail-order inventory room is now a kung fu studio. But according to Jaffe, the label is releasing more albums now than ever before. - Chris BrownPh

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Walk into this South Philly space you get a sense of the talent in the room. The walls are plastered with tapestries and original paintings. An old wooden piano sits in the corner of the room, between a set of stacked keyboards. In the opposite corner sits a sparse drum kit. The center of the room is, of course, the Mac. Five of the eight members of hip-hop band ILL Doots inhabit the environment, affectionately dubbed the Tasker House. They all have formal training as musicians or artists from University of the Arts. They are a well-rounded group who inject their soundscapes with rock, jazz, funk and even more random sources, like Willy Wonka. Wonka Beats, created by Sly Tompson, the bassist, sometimes producer and one of the musical leaders of the group, is a collection of beats created with samples from the “Willy Wonka And The Chocolate Factory” soundtrack. Every week, friends and fans can submit their bars and the band distributes the final product on “Wonka Wednesdays.” Their music is interactive. “We make the audience a part of the band,” says percussionist Chubbs. ILL Doots boasts two MCs, Phantom and E.

(as opposed to backstage) as they play their live introduction, “Untitled.” The energy is astounding. Every member is vital to the experience. Nothing is wasted. Despite the amount of playfulness and slick jam moments, it is all planned. “Improv is just rehearsal over and over until it is perfect,” Rodney says. Phantom pulses with energy, bouncing to the music as he chants, “That’s enough with them false hopes,” over and over again. His spirit is infectious and lets you know he means business.

Tex’s mellower and his happy-go-lucky style seems to put everybody at ease. He and Phantom work well together as dueling MCs and collaborators. They have entirely different flows, technically and stylistically, but they seem to be a yin-and-yang match.

Unlike most bands, especially in hip-hop, ego doesn’t seem to drive either MC or any other member of the group. It is a collective built on collaboration, respect and, most of all, talent. Their new album, Future Dia(NA)log is out now and their work with other artists will produce tons of new music in the near future. “There is no contradiction between our music and our lifestyle,” Phantom declares.

- Matthew Leister

Texan (Extraterrestrial Texan), two guitarists, BPad and Guitarlo DeCarlo, keyboards by B Young and drums by Rodney. Production duties can be handled by any member of the group, and have been for the past five years of the band’s existence. They feel they’ve built something greater than themselves. They’ve the built the #illmovement. “This is a movement that involves YOU,” E. Texan expresses to fans in a video on their website. The movement is about more than the group. It is about the community. It is about living life to the fullest, the way it should be lived, whatever that may entail. Musicians, artists and other creative people are encouraged to join in the lifestyle. “ILL” stands for “I Love Living.” “It’s about uplifting people through music,” Phantom explains. “We are here to empower. We rap for what we aspire to be. We rap the present and the future.” “It’s about the whole movement coming together and creating something brilliant, creating art,” Rodney adds. Watching ILL Doots rehearse is like watching them play a show. Every single moment is practiced to perfection - the stage banter, the chants for the audience, the MCs emerging from the back room

Eight Doots Loving LifeILL Doots is about more than music. It's a lifestyle, the bandmates say.

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The Team PlayersThe guys from Spotted Atrocious have a few drinks, jam and make their music together. Liam Tinney is soft-spoken and almost drowned out by the music at Spruce Street Harbor Park. He intermittently takes sips from his beer while talking about the music that he and his friends make as the catchy indie rock band Spotted Atrocious. It’s fitting to talk here since so much of their material has been written close to water and usually over beers. “After I graduated from college, I just said, ‘Let’s all take a week at Deep Creek Lake and just play,’” Tinney recalls of the trip to Maryland the band took in May to write new material and record demos, just as they had also done for their first release, Temporary Fix. “We jammed a lot, we made a lot of headway and we decided to do it again and pumped out some new songs. It was really natural this time, which was really satisfying.” Despite the many area codes they possess, the bandmates identify primarily as a West Chester group. Formed by high school friends Tinney, Ryan Warfield and Mitchell Way, they later added West Chester University friends Mark Mullen and Chris Hall. Tinney, lead guitarist and the group’s lone Philadelphian, says that Philadelphia is a tough market to play in as an outsider. But they’ve seen success in the city. “Philly culture, which I really love, means that they won’t accept you that easily,” Tinney says. “Even our sports teams are the same way as the bands. But it’s definitely been easier since I’ve moved here.” Hall, the drummer, lives in West Chester but is happy to have friends in the city. “Usually we’ve been able to get decent shows,” Hall says. “We’ve been able to get good spots because we have good connections in Philadelphia. We have friends there and that always helps with bringing people out.” The band’s influences show brightly in their music. Riffy and layered guitar parts match melodic vocal hooks reminiscent of bands like Third Eye Blind, but there’s still swift and forceful rhythms that reflect Hall’s love of Metallica. The guys in Spotted Atrocious know what works, what doesn’t work and how to write together efficiently. “If it’s all five of us in a room, usually it’s one riff and we just jam on it until we have a song,” Tinney says. “Lyrics usually come later. Ryan writes most, but I write some and tell Ryan to change as he needs to, and Mark will write his own, too.” Hall agrees that they’re all at their most productive when they can flow with one another. “We thrive in a live setting, when we’re all together,” Hall says. “It’s just a lot easier to bounce back ideas and get feedback and try to piece it together. We all write music for our band so we were able to bring a lot of ideas to the table.” The quintet hopes to record the latest fruits of their labor by the end of the year. - Brendan Menapace

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Some herald Philadelphia as the city of soul, singer-songwriter vibes, gritty punk and/or unsullied rap. But others question if that is all the city has to offer. “I thought this city forgot what rock 'n' roll was,” says Justin Pellecchia of New Hope’s Satellite Hearts. “I felt Philadelphia forgot how to rock.” Pellecchia is the front man and lead guitarist of the tight-knit rock trio, which includes bassist Lucas Rinz of Lambertville, New Jersey and percussionist Keaton Thandi of Flemington, New Jersey. Pellecchia dons wispy shoulder length hair and an arresting yet comforting disposition. In fact, there’s a captivating sincerity present in all three members – whether it’s Rinz’s fetching stoicism or Thandi’s wide-eyed enthusiasm. It’s their unassuming off-stage presence that renders their onstage performance downright disarming. When it comes to rocking 'n' rolling, Satellite Hearts doesn’t disappoint. They’re the real deal. And Pellecchia, the Yardley, Pennsylvania native, is at the center of it. His voice is powerful, jolting and sensitive all at once. On stage, he turns up the charm, Thandi drums up the kick and the typically reserved Rinz

to be limited musically. “You can find inspiration everywhere,” he says. “I think that was always a premise of the band when we started. To never be boxed in. It’s very easy to say we have a punky edge to our music. That’s true. But we draw inspiration from all over and our feel … where we’re coming from happens to be classic.” Nonetheless, one of their biggest musical influences - Dean Ween of the eponymous experiential rock band Ween - hails from the band’s stomping grounds of New Hope. It was Ween who gave Satellite Hearts their first nod at New Hope haunts such as John & Peter’s. It was Ween who turned to his manager and called them “a real fucking band.” “Being a Ween fan, that’s the greatest compliment,” Thandi says. “That means a lot to me.” Their fanbase in New Hope is as passionate about them as Ween is explicit. Satellite Hearts doesn’t like to view them as fans, but as friends. However, Pellecchia reflects tentatively on their humble beginnings in Philadelphia. “Playing with a bunch of indie bands around here, they have this look and this attitude,” he says. “I felt like a lot of people didn’t get us. Like, they didn’t fully understand what we were. Or what we are.” “Now I'm starting to see the changes. We're coming into our own,” he enthusiastically adds. “And the city is starting to accept us for us.” Satellite Hearts is set to release its third album, with a working title of Desire Forces the Flow, this fall or winter. They are excited to rock on in the city of Philadelphia and beyond. But they’ll never lose sight that it’s their fans - no, their friends - in New Hope that make the place feel like home. - Morgan James

spazzes out. All the way out – jumping up and down, eyes glazed, lips turning into a smirk as if to say, “Screw you. I’m having fun.” Reticence is for the faint of heart when Satellite Hearts turns on. The band formed in December 2009 in greater New Hope. While their first songs were Pellecchia’s creations, many of the songs from their first album, Imperial Hearts, were created organically. “Most of the time it’s the three of us getting off on each other,” Pellecchia says with a laugh. Indeed, they know how to groove as a unit. But that was not always the case. The band added Dre DiMura on lead guitar during the production of their 2013 digital album, Four to the Floor. DiMura was invited to join for supplementary depth and layering, something the original members of Satellite Hearts thought the band needed then. But the cohesiveness was lacking and Satellite Hearts returned to just its three original members. “We realized we had everything we needed to begin with and now we’re working to put us back out there,” Rinz explains. “I think we all learned our roles better in the three-piece and learned to create more of the sound overall,” Keaton chimes in. “Not necessarily adding another dynamic - or a fourth dynamic - to the band. But using more dynamics.” Listening to their releases, one is bound to sense notes of The Strokes there, The Beatles here and The Kinks over there – a classic rock foundation riddled with punk rock sensibilities. And hell, even a bit of Latin over yonder. “Justin takes classical guitar lessons right now,” Keaton says. “Brazilian style. Flamenco style.” Rinz emphasizes the importance of not wanting

Classic Rock FoundationSatellite Hearts rock out, with some punk sensibilities (and maybe some Latin sounds).

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Matured CheeseThe bandmates in Snoozer know all about the DIY life - windowless vans, house parties and angry neighbors - for better and worse.

Be careful when you pick up a copy of a Snoozer album or EP. This three piece has been prone to trying to pull the wool over the eyes of their fans in the past. “I think people started to think that we were lying about it or telling them a joke,” guitarist Mike Kelly says about releasing this year’s EP, Cottage Cheese. “Because we’ve set up release shows and then gave out blank CDs. One time, we literally handed out blank CDs and told people it was Cottage Cheese and just put a letter inside that said, ‘Whoops!’ or something.” Drummer Tom Kelly, unrelated to the guitarist, defends their trick saying that they did include a download code for the album with the blanks. But the lo-fi and oft-angular, yet bouncy garage band sounds like they’re well aware that they may be a bit more likely to make waves by touring rather than just pushing CDs on people. In early June they hit the road to Chicago in their windowless panel van. It was a tour completely set up by Tom, simply by finding bands in a certain town and messaging them about setting up a gig ... and getting quite lucky at times. “Sometimes when you’re working on setting up a show in a place you don’t know, you’ll strike gold and they’ll be the friendliest people in town,” he says. “They’ll be like, ‘We’ll help you and you can stay in our house and we’ll give you food, too.’” But setting up DIY shows isn’t something new to Snoozer. They were running a space with fellow locals Rasputin’s Secret Police in a seven-bedroom mansion just outside of West Philly. They called the house PUHD (pronounced “pud”) but since they weren’t living within city limits anymore, it became a bit tough to stay out of trouble when running shows there. Despite this fact, they’ve had at least a dozen really raging shows there over the last year, says bassist Paul Hewes. “We’re kind of right in the center of a neighborhood,” he says. “When you start to get 80 kids on the lawn, people start to notice.” Despite not hosting shows for the time being, the band still lives in the house and is still benefiting from being there. They don’t want to ruin a good thing. “It’s a really good situation for us to live there so we didn’t want to push it,” Tom says. “We can all practice there. We all have our own rooms there. It was a lot of work putting on shows there, too. I think we’d only have one a month and one time we had two in a month and that felt like overkill.” The band toured again later in the summer, this time in support of Cottage Cheese coming out on tape on Philly’s own Ranch Records. Mike says that van life was kind of a nightmare because of having to live on top of each other for 10 days straight. This fall, they'll tour with local lo-fi noise three-piece Gunk. Snoozer recorded a new EP a few months ago and are hoping to have it ready for their run with Gunk. But with some new material around the corner, they’re looking forward to putting the Cottage Cheese down for a little while. “We’re trying to have five or six new songs to play on this tour,” Mike says. “Honestly, we’ve been playing the Cottage Cheese songs for so long now. I don’t think any of us want to play them anymore. It’s not a drag. It’s definitely fun to play songs that you know like back of your hand but it gets a little worn out for us.” But maybe playing those new songs on tour will be just what the band needs to keep themselves sane on the road. “Imagine being in a windowless van for five or six hours at a time,” Hewes says. “You just start to freak out.” - Brian Wilensky

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The writing is on the walls. Only on Weekends' basement practice space makes it easy to discern some of their greatest influences: framed album art, event posters and concert tickets from Saves the Day, Something Corporate and Brand New. There is however, quite a bit more to say. Cherry Hill pop punkers Harry Rose, Jes Clark and Anthony Dandrea are proud to boast not only being influenced by the likes of said bands but also being produced by one of the most influential artists of the genre. Working with Fred Mascherino, formerly of Taking Back Sunday, The Color Fred and Breaking Pangea and current Terrible Things frontman and touring lead guitarist for Say Anything, is certainly a major highlight in the band's history. "That was actually luck of the draw," says drummer Dandrea of getting involved with Mascherino. "It was a battle of the bands in Gloucester City's ICAC Hall, a contest for Skate & Surf, and it just so happened that he was one of the judges. He happened to really like us and voted us through." After a few e mails back and forth, the band requested that Mascherino produce their latest album, Light Years and Heavy Lifting, and he happily obliged. Since he had produced the most recent Terrible Things record at that time, the band knew he would be a great person to have on board not only for notoriety but recording quality as well. Mascherino said he’d seen Only on Weekends perform at a number of Philly shows and that their persistence and talent was what really made him want to work with the band. “I really wasn't doing that sort of thing at the time but they kept asking and they all had such good senses of humor,” Mascherino says of recording the band. “I knew it'd be fun. I loved how each song told a story and I just found everything about the project very endearing.” Mascherino and Taking Back Sunday continue to hold relevance, especially to New Jerseyans like the members of Only On Weekends. "Especially with the South Jersey scene, pop punk has a lot of suburban qualities to it because, really, what else is there to do besides hang out, go to shows and play some music with your friends?"

That's where the title Light Years and Heavy Lifting comes in." Dandrea and Rose collaborate on lyrics and have done everything from searching medical dictionaries to e mailing lines back and forth to creating some other cool cures for writer’s block. "The secret of the song ‘The Prince of 187th Street’ is that it’s actually based off of ‘A Bronx Tale,’" Dandrea shares. "East 187th Street is basically where it takes place. The famous line from the movie is that you get three great loves in your life. So the line, 'Be my number three?' That's where that came from." After writing the chorus and the bridge, Dandrea passed the rest off to Rose. "I sat down one night," says Rose. "Anthony let me borrow his DVD and I just wrote out the movie and took notes, which is something I've never done before. It came out pretty neat. The whole premise of the song wound up being about a relationship that's kind of up in the air by the end of the movie. We look at the song as an almost unofficial, unauthorized sequel to the movie." The group is all smiles, sitting back laughing as they enjoy recapping their history out loud. They are realistic about their age, where their careers are going and the fact that the group is primarily a hobby. As long as they're still always having fun and not going broke over it, the music will continue regardless of any major recognition or whether it pays the bills or not. "You know, some people go bowling once a week after work or join a bowling league," says Rose. "We come down here and play music." And not only on weekends. - Brittany Thomas

says Rose. "I think that’s why a lot of the bands that we like have come out of New Jersey." Mascherino, who currently lives in West Chester, says punk culture has had a stronghold in the Philadelphia region for a long time, with its history going beyond the music. Whether suburban or inner-city, the music and the scene are far-reaching. “It's a culture and Philly has always been a good-sized city for that kind of art to exist,” he says. “I've lived in Philly and currently live out in West Chester. You definitely miss some of the action out in the suburbs. You're more connected when you're closer to it. But that said, you can write the songs wherever you are and that's ultimately what matters.” Light Years and Heavy Lifting is the first album the band has had produced. Earlier EPs and CDs were self recorded with some post -production assistance. "This one, Fred took the role of a producer more than anyone has," says Rose. "Even with pre -production. He sat down and watched us play our songs and tweaked the compositions and gave an outside opinion on how to best play the songs." The album, released in May, has been well received so far and was kicked off with a rager of a release show at The Barbary. Easily danceable with lyrics that connect well with listeners, Only on Weekends possess a genuine charm that will take you through all of the feelings that come with being the social beings we are. "A lot of the songs have to do with saying goodbye to negative people in your life," says Rose, "putting distance between you and negative influences.

Three Great Loves of LifeSouth Jersey's Only on Weekends have worked with pop punk royalty and they created an unauthorized sequel of sorts to "A Bronx Tale."

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sweet Honey BeatsDrummer, rapper, writer and producer TwizzMatic wants to conquer every genre of music. Time is precious and the longer a musician spends in the industry, the more selective they must be with who they devote that time to. After embarking on a partnership making beats for a Philadelphia singer this past year, TwizzMatic had to cut his losses on a project not up to his standards. “Working with somebody who only has one rehearsal before their shows?” TwizzMatic asks. “Her dad doesn’t want to work with me? He’s the manager, he doesn’t have time, works three jobs. I don’t do that anymore. I address things head on.” He was being paid for his work but it didn’t matter. “I thought she was a good singer but the rest of it isn’t up to par,” he says, explaining his initial interest. “I’m just not wasting my time going in circles.” TwizzMatic, who is 28-year-old Antoine McRae, now has a strong vision

for what he wants from music projects after spending years experimenting, making him the well-rounded writer, rapper and producer he is today. Inside his bedroom and basement studio in Yeadon, his childhood drumset sits as a relic from his past and a helpful tool when he gets stuck producing a beat on his laptop. “Being a drummer makes me a good producer,” says Twizz, who started playing drums as a child and performed on the street with classmates from Philadelphia High School for the Creative and Performing Arts. “I’ll go to the drums and see what I hear naturally and mimic what I hear.” His knack for making beats was the basis of a partnership with a friend, Jon Moxin, who could naturally freestyle. Twizz doesn’t believe in sugarcoating his opinions and freely commented on which lyrics did and did not work. “I taught him and learned something from that at the same time,” Twizz says. Twizz followed Moxin’s encouragement to rap himself. He played with lyrics, looking for words to rhyme and then constructing lines that made sense but in a clever way like in his song “Re-Programmed,” where he raps, “As a youngin' I was spoon-fed/ Everything I was taught will be soon dead/ They put a price on your style, twice on your head.” Twizz worked on other projects, such as the yet-to-be released J Dilla Presents, a tribute to his favorite producer, and Treehouse Coalition, where he worked with a mix of friends and local artists, sampling sounds from DVDs of 1950s TV shows. The project ended, says Twizz, because of lack of teamwork. But it served as a valuable learning experience for seeing how difficult it can be to organize a group of independent artists. Then in 2011, after opening for Blonde Gang, Twizz was approached by Carlow Stanley, the president of a startup recording company called TCA Music Group. He asked Twizz to join the company, which now includes five other area artists. “He had a presence,” recalls Stanley. “He was commanding the crowd.” By trial and error, Stanley says, the roster went through a number of artists who weren’t committed enough to put in the work to be great. Twizz has not had that problem. In the last year, he released a track with verses over Philly jazz legend Lee Morgan's “Sweet Honey Bee,” an EP with beats from German producers Orange Field and a 12-track album with sampled beats from some of his favorite artists, like MF Doom, Madlib and Nas. Back in his bedroom studio, Twizz replays tracks for his newest project - producing a radio-ready album showcasing the artists in TCA. Stanley hopes the album will be a foot in the door for the entire label. The album is another experiment with new sounds and styles, in step with TwizzMatic’s broad interest in music. “I’m trying to conquer every genre,” Twizz says, mentioning a potential country album at some point. “I want to show people I don’t just do this.” With so much to accomplish, every second counts. - Michael Bucher

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kid from Coatesville raised with little money and big dreams, Cabott has not forgotten where he comes from. “When you grow up in a steel mill family, there are often labor disputes, strikes and things of that nature,” he says. “I’ll never say that we were poor but that we were financially stricken. People sometimes say that they know the value of a dollar. Well, I know the value of a penny.” Cabott remembers seeing his artistic father - skilled in photography, drawing and carving

From his office on the 56th floor of One Liberty Place, Chris Cabott can see out over Philadelphia but rarely does he slow down to take a look. One wall is covered in records - trophies of successful album sales by clients who have made their mark. In the sunlight, the city is reflected in their metallic gleam as he steals a glance off into the horizon. The entertainment lawyer, whose clients range from Grammy Award-winning producers and songwriters to major label artists and professional athletes, has been focused on what he wants far before he knew how to get it. Cabott has a travel schedule like a rock star on tour - flying back and forth between the City of Brotherly Love and the City of Angels weekly and sometimes daily - and enough legal paperwork to make most people uncomfortable. He seems to relish every moment of his chosen raison d'être, especially since he started at the very bottom. As a

- struggle by not being able to monetize his creativity. As a kid, young Cabott wanted to be a part of the local Little League but had to settle for the track team because it cost less. Determined to bring his passion for art and athletics together, Cabott tried to combine his father’s dreams and his own ambition from an

early age. “If someone asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up,” he recalls, “I would look them dead in the face and say, ‘I want to be an entertainment lawyer and a sports agent.’” By the time he was enrolled at La

Salle University as an undergraduate, Cabott was interning in the district attorney’s office. While it was not his passion, it was his first taste of the life of a lawyer and one step closer to getting his foot

Knowing The Value of a PennyChris Cabott had a modest upbringing in Coatesville. Now, he's a laywer for the stars.

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there, many of whom became part of the group’s rotation of members. The band has released three albums to date, the most recent being Skeleton Melodies last year. Each album has featured different members. “We’ve got a lot of different bands overlapping,” says bassist Doug “Dug” Gillin, of Broomall. “There’s like a Venn diagram with a lot of circles and colors. There’s a mutual admiration of everyone, musically.” The bandmates describe their sound as experimental rock. It’s a mixture of Sam’s favorite bands from the ’90s – from Radiohead to Smashing Pumpkins to Violent Femmes. Then there is also the influence Kurt and the rest of his family had on Sam. His brother Paul has even provided guest vocals and harmonica to the band’s records. Sam started playing music at an early age with the violin, though that didn’t last. “ADD and my Star Wars action figures,” he jokes, offering reasons he quit the violin.

It’s a warm but comfortable night outside Connie’s Ric Rac in South Philly. Guitarist Jeremy Dawson and drummer Dean Gorfti shoot the breeze before Dawson checks the time. “Is there a stereotype about people from the suburbs not being on time?” asks Dawson. His band, Vilebred, is on the lineup tonight. Dawson and Gorfti are soon joined by the rest of the band’s roster for the evening and they take inventory. Not everyone could make it out tonight. But then, that is the nature of the band. They’re all members of several other bands, part of a lineup that has grown in size and depth for a decade, with many coming and going. The main constant of the lineup is singer and lyricist Sam Vile – a last name that needs little introduction around these parts. “Growing up, my brother Kurt was my biggest influence,” he says. “He’s my older brother. I looked up to him and I grew up playing his guitars. He was my roommate for a few years.” Vilebred slowly came together over the years. The original members were friends from attending church together with their families in the suburbs. They eventually got together to play music. “I moved to Newtown Square and they have these coffee houses,” Sam explains. “We said we should get our shit together and throw some covers together. It was fun. I didn’t think anything of it but then I started writing.” Things took off from there. One of those coffee houses was Burlap and Bean and it was a focal point in the band’s growth. Vilebred has played multiple shows and befriended other musicians

Constantly Vile (With Friends)The Vilebred roster has changed a lot over the last decade but Sam Vile is always there.

But Sam admits he couldn’t keep himself away from Kurt’s instruments. Sam has a strong admiration for his brother. He went right to Kurt’s defense when the Wakin’ on a Pretty Daze mural in Fishtown was painted over. “I was really pissed off when I found out,” he says. “I texted Kurt the next day because I felt bad and he was just like, ‘Eh, whatever. Someone will fix it.’” In the end, the bandmates maintain that their heart is in their members and all those who have brought Vilebred to life. Sam, Dawson, Gorfti and Gillin took turns rattling off the names - drummer Will Donahue, keyboardist Chelsea Sue Allen, lead guitarist Jared Pennington and more - who couldn’t be there but have been essential to the band’s growth. Everyone has left a mark. And with that many members, you can bet the dynamic is a little whacky. “It’s like a fun human Muppet Show,” Sam jokes.

- Dave Miniaci

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into the doorway of entertainment. Cabott deferred his acceptance into Widener University’s School of Law for one year to work so he could put himself through school. Today, Cabott serves as an attorney with Lloyd Remick, his long-time mentor and a prominent sports and media lawyer in Philadelphia. “You can’t play in the NBA unless you’re on the court,” Cabott says with a laugh. “By the grace of God, my work with Lloyd got me into the entertainment law game.” As an attorney, Cabott has worked with artists and producers on projects like Kanye West’s “Heartless,” Rihanna‘s “Disturbia” and Justin Timberlake’s The 20/20 Experience. His clients also include songwriters such as Tiffany Fred, who co-wrote Zendaya’s “Replay,” and Raymond Diaz, co-writer of Lil Wayne’s hit “My Homies Still” featuring Big Sean. He has also represented a number of well- known athletes like NFL players Andrew Quarless, Zach Miller, Karim Barton, Eric Kush, Chris Greenwood and Brandian Ross, as well as Philadelphia Phillies shortstop Jimmy Rollins.

“It seems like the bigger a lawyer gets, the more concerned they are with meeting big wigs and milking situations,” says awarding-winning producer and songwriter Ken Lewis, one of Cabott’s clients. “They stop caring about their actual job. But that’s the thing about Chris’ work - it’s always been stellar. He’s always on top of the nuts-and-bolts work that needs to have eyes on it, never handing anything off to his paralegals.” Having worked on more than 70 gold and platinum records for artists such as Eminem, Mariah Carey, Jay Z and Lana Del Rey, Lewis is no stranger to the rules around media rights and representation. He has been working with Cabott since around 2006. “There’s never been any bullshit and definitely no games,” says Lewis. “I’m planning on working with Chris for a very long time. Other lawyers try to lure me away but I’m staying. They can’t have me!” Cabott recently took on a new client, one of his youngest, who is already making the media rounds. Cam Anthony, a 12-year-old with mature vocal stylings which surpass his age, says he feels respected by Cabott's approach to his job.

“When I went to the White House to perform on Easter, he was there, right by me,” remembers Anthony. “Chris was there to talk to me, wish me good luck, make sure everything was OK. I don’t think many people have that friendship with their lawyers. I feel like he’s really there for me.” Anthony’s father, Lamar Sherman, feels similarly. “Chris is our first lawyer,” Sherman says. “Our first and only. As long as he lets us, we’re sticking with him. I think what I enjoy so much about Chris is not what he does as a lawyer, but as a person. He’s not over the top with flashy rhetoric. He explains things simply and quickly but he takes his time where it’s needed.” As the sun lowers and begins to cast a golden hue over Philadelphia, Cabott stands up and moves toward the window. His computer and phone buzz and beep simultaneously, reminding him of the real-life responsibilities he has to keep up for his fantasy job. He probably won’t get much sleep tonight or tomorrow but he and his clients are working, which is exactly what he wants.

- Darragh Dandurand


What is Communion and what was its original intention?

Communion is an artist-led organization that combines live promotion with a label. I work on the live side of our company, Communion Presents, which allows me to be involved with developing the smaller artists that might not have the proper promotion behind them. It’s an amazing platform for artists, even if they’re not involved with our label. Our passion and drive lies in helping to develop artists that we really believe in.

How did it start?

Ben started the company in 2006 with Kevin Jones and Ian Grimble. It essentially started as the same thing as what you see now in the U.K. and in the U.S., just on a much smaller scale. A tastemaker's night full of great music and collaborative artistic creation.

What can Philadelphia expect this fall?

People can expect an amazing quality of music every single Club Night. I work to bring in the larger touring acts and our promoter partner, Bonfire, curates the lineup of locals. The chance to see who the new up-and-coming local and national artists are on a night like this is very exciting in itself.

Beyond that we’re working on record store partners, local business partners and sponsors. We want to create a night that’s more than just a typical show. We want our guests to have a bigger experience than that. Pairing with Philadelphia-based business and sponsors are what make these nights extra special. It benefits the city too, and that’s important to us.

spiritual Gathering Communion is the sharing or exchange of intimate thoughts or feelings, especially when the exchange is on a mental or spiritual level. That was Ben Lovett’s ethos in the summer of 2006 when the founding member of Mumford and Sons started his Communion Club Night at London’s Notting Hill Arts Center. Since then, the idea has evolved into an internationally recognized record label and concert tour. Over the last year, the event has become a monthly, two-room concert at Underground Arts. Featuring an eclectic mix of local and international talent, the event has become a staple for music lovers on the first Thursday of every month. Our Peter Milos spoke with Communion’s national coordinator, Hillary Sprecher, who is in charge of booking and overseeing Communion Club Nights in the nine US cities they currently hold the event.

COME TOGETHER: Tutlie performed at the June Communion show at Underground Arts, alongside an ecectic mix of local and national acts.

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25JUMPphilly.com

The EntertainerRich Quick doesn't like the label but he's a rapper. From Jersey.

“Never in my life will I tell someone that I'm a rapper,” says Woodbury, New Jersey resident Rich Quick. “Get the fuck outta here with that. You might as well jump off a bridge because they are going to slay you.” Clearly, the occupational label strikes a nerve. “For me personally, my job is to entertain people,” he continues. “I'm an entertainer. Educate people. Give people a sense of culture, a point of view. Tell a story. My story.” On a recent Tuesday night, Quick sits at the end of the W XYZ Bar in the lobby of the boutique Aloft Hotel in Mount Laurel. While the buzz builds around him - people of all ages and backgrounds have come out for the monthly showcase held here, Quick sips a drink and keeps his focus on his phone. He is dressed in his trademark skully, chunky Knarley Chains necklace and wedding ring. Not that he is married in the traditional sense. It is symbolic and intentionally ambiguous. Listening to his rhymes, one would know he does not have a wife. “I'm not married. But I am married to a lot of things and one of them is hip-hop music,” Quick says in attempt to clarify his marital status. “It’s an unbreakable bond. And, I even hate it. But I have devoted my entire life to it. I wear this ring because it reminds me of all my sacrifices.” He began rapping in the second grade over Coolio’s “Gangsta’s Paradise” instrumental. After linking with other MCs in middle school, he and his friends formed Rag Tag, a name suggested by his own mother for the seemingly random artists that made up the clique. A turning point for Quick came when Jay Griffey and other artists who all share the same management team, appeared in the French hip-hop publication Rap Magazine. He was happy for his team, but it also stung him deeply. It began a process of maturation for Quick. Both personally and professionally. “I changed publicly before I changed personally,” says Quick. Taking his career more seriously, Quick began building and crossing a bridge into Philly. He began meeting and linking with artists he looked up to but previously had only known online: Reef the Lost Cauze, Vinnie Paz, Stress The White Boy, Chuck Treece.

By now, he has met, recorded or done records with many of them. “Rich is a great person,” says Reef. “I love his hustle and I love that he shows so much respect for the people who came before him. That's rare with a lot of these new artists. He has my full support.” He also has the support of South Jersey and continues to rep both Woodbury and his birth state hard. But Quick has been a part of Philly scene for so long it doesn't bother him when he is identified as a Philly artist. Woodbury shaped and molded him. Regardless of what people say, that’s the fact. “I'm a hip-hop artist from South Jersey who operates primarily out of the Philly hip-hop scene,” says Quick. These days you might catch Quick sketching with a pen, painting or performing in Jersey, Philly or the surrounding burbs. You might also catch him at the Home Depot in Jersey where he has worked for the past 10 years. “That’s my last bit of normalcy,” he says about his day job, which provides him things like a regular paycheck and health insurance. That coverage has proven critical after two nervous breakdowns in the past few years stemming from trying to push his career and music further, turning him into an insomniac and running him down to the point of exhaustion. “This shit put me in the hospital,” Quick explains. “Twice. It has affected my mind. I sacrificed everything. Literally. And it paid off.” After scares like this, he may think about the future but he prefers approach life on a day-by-day basis, focusing on the present. “I don't spend as much time wondering where I am going to wind up,” Quick says, “as much as what I am doing right now.” Even if there were a stage to take at the W XYZ Bar, Rich Quick wouldn’t be on it. Instead he takes the mic and works the crowd by going into the crowd. If you aren’t paying attention to his performance, you soon will be as Quick cozies up in people’s spaces, booths, chairs, couches and tables, never missing a beat as he delivers his lines. “Rich is one of the hardest working MCs around here and his live show is amongst the best I've seen in hip-hop,” says BET 106 & Park Freestyle Friday hall of famer Voss. “I take extreme pride in live shows myself, so to see another guy do the same and just knock it out of the park each time hits home.” In a lobby with families, Quick ends his performance by giving a 5-year-old sitting in his mother’s lap his most recent CD, Sad Songz. “Hi. I’m Rich Quick. Nice to meet you,” he says, introducing himself to the youngster. “Thanks for rocking with me all night.” - Christopher Malo

The JUMP Off


Music & Education

The room was empty, occupied only by floating jazz melodies and setting sunlight muffled by the shades. Aisha Winfield had called a friend that morning and the front section of the restaurant was hers. The texts went out around lunch time: “Can you meet me at Relish at 6:30 p.m.?” It was a fast plan that was executed smoothly, business as usual. Winfield is the executive director of Jr. Music Executive, the program she founded in 2004, with the mission of teaching young people how to navigate the music business. In its 10th year, the non-profit organization hosts workshops, plans concerts and has worked with hundreds of students. And they have done it all without a home base. “We have met in some pretty interesting locations,” Winfield reflects. “Churches, office spaces, art studios. It’s about practicing flexibility. I can call and say, ‘I have 10 students and we need to be able to have a meeting or a show.’” Jr. Music Executive began as a program to combat the startling dropout rate of high school students in Philadelphia. It was Winfield’s goal to establish a connection between school and music through a workshop series for at-risk students. The program has drastically transformed from a one-woman workshop series to a multi-network organization. Each fall and spring, the program rotates its focus. Beginning in mid-September, J.M.E. hosts an after-school program at Dobbins Vocational High School that focuses on project-based learning. In the spring, 15 high school and college students will be accepted as interns. They will explore their area of interest in the music industry. This fall, the Dobbins students will launch a merchandise line for Philadelphia’s 12-year-old emerging songbird, Cam Anthony. They'll also create their own music and have an opportunity to utilize J.M.E.’s new partnership with Villa TV by creating content to be broadcast. Rather than a stale lecture series, Jr. Music Executive challenges students to become actively involved in the business end of the industry and produce real results. J.M.E. also hosts workshops every first and third Saturday of the month at Villanova University in partnership with the YMCA Black Achievers

before an event, ‘Are you available?’ And you just can’t say no to her.” You may not even know what you are getting into but you’ll do it, Bally adds. “When you get there, you actually see what goes on behind the scenes of what you said you want to do and you’re on the spot.” For Malika Bethea, who began as a volunteer in 2009, there wasn’t just one place to settle. “Aisha pays very close attention to the things you say you want to do,” Bethea says. “And sometimes she will call you and say, ‘You said you like to plan events? I want to do a fundraiser, and I want to do it on Thursday.’ But it will be Tuesday.” “Let’s get it done!” Winfield chimes in. “Then once you’re in it, the adrenaline starts going and everything just snowballs into place,” Beathea says. “It will be a lot of work from that Tuesday to that Thursday, and it will be a success. Your idea of how things work is a lot different than the reality of it. It’s a really important program because it gives you that hands-on experience.” Music is inescapable. It’s everywhere - in the car, on the street, in the way the rain patters softly on the windows as Winfield interacts with Bethea and Bally on an equal level. As a mentor, Winfield understands that while school isn’t for everyone, a solid platform for success is. Jr. Music Executive was created for those who see music in their future, with the realization that proper training and tangible results can turn dreams into careers and a soundtrack for life. “It’s not just about wanting the student to do well in music,” Winfield says. “It’s really about getting to know students as individuals and helping them navigate whenever there are opportunities to grow. It is them being able to have the confidence to go in, complete a task, do something that they had talked about and then seek out other ways they can pursue their passions. It’s priceless.”

- Brianna Spause

program. Teens from YMCA branches work with J.M.E. to “Launch an Artist’s Career,” while establishing career goals and paving a smooth path to graduation. “Our mission is to provide opportunities for young people to develop their skills in the music industry,” Winfield says. “Most of the time, those skills are transferable. It’s not necessarily that you have to stay in music or entertainment. Having really good communication skills, being able to multitask and to work well with computers and technology are things that you can use in any industry.” Every opportunity in the music industry focuses on a different set of skills, all of which add up to one stress-inducing fact - it's a business. “Even as a creative person, a lot of your success lies in being able to either handle the business side on your own or knowing enough to have someone who can handle it for you,” Winfield says. “We’re helping students who have an interest in the industry to see what the reality is versus what they see on television or perceive in their minds.” Winfield serves as a role model for the future music executives who come through the program with her high expectations and a demand for professionalism. The future execs are taught the importance of planning, keeping records, formatting invoices and drafting grammatically correct emails. “I think that’s a lost art,” Winfield jokes. A quickly planned meeting is something J.M.E. students are accustomed to. Assembling on the cozy veranda of a swanky restaurant didn’t even raise an eyebrow – and the cornbread was a sweet, sweet plus. “I like the spontaneity,” states Davia Bally, Davia a product of a J.M.E. spring internship program, where she concentrated in business and communications. “Aisha will text us two days

Creating soundtracksFor LifeJr. Music Executive teaches young people how to survive in the music business.

CAREER BUILDER: Aisha Winfield (center, in gold blouse) with Jr. Music Executive participants at the Summer Soiree, held at Warmdaddy's.

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Music & Politics

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Which institutions?

Like Freedom Theater, the Philadelphia Clef Club, Taller Puertorriqueno, the Community Education Center, Philadanco, of course. The African American Museum. Fleisher. There are many of them that are rooted in neighborhoods that were important and vital developments in their neighborhoods. The problem is that, as I come back into Philadelphia, what I’m finding is that many of those institutions – not all of them – are in dire straits. They are sitting on the precipice.

Why is that?

Basically because they haven’t been getting major foundation funding in the city. The two larger foundations have not been funding them for a variety of reasons. Even with the burden of their considerable building expenses and operating expenses, they’ve remained open. They’ve remained open because those organizations hustle! They have good earned income. They operate educational programs.

Also, they have tremendous volunteer support and engagement from their communities. They’ve kept their doors open despite the fact that they have not received major foundation funding. They’re being starved by the current funding climate.

What can you do in your position to assist?

I hope we can do quite a bit. We developed a huge culture database called Culture Blocks a couple of years ago. That created a database that people could go to to find out what assets exist in their communities – not just cultural but libraries, schools, other assets in their communities.

What we’re trying to do is make a case as to why it’s important to support neighborhood institutions. Where they exist, property values rise, crime goes down, ethnic tension goes down, educational outcomes rise, the economics in communities become better … even with just small institutions.

What did you see when you first arrived in Philly?

I saw a very vibrant cultural community that had built and supported these wonderful institutions. That said, I knew about Philadanco long before I came to Philadelphia. Philadanco was considered one of the finest African American dance companies in the country. I used to read about them in the New York Times. It’s funny. I think we under-appreciate our institutions here.

How’s it been going in your new role?

I’ve been very encouraged by the support and the goodwill that has come from the cultural community as a whole. I’m renewing old friendships. I worked in the Philadelphia area for a while, for more than 25 years. But for the last 13, I was out in Montgomery County. I was always a Philadelphia resident. I live in Mt. Airy.

I’m just so impressed by the amount of activity, commitment, creativity and innovation that has taken place in the city, even since I have been in Montgomery County. The things that have transpired have been tremendous.

What have you seen that stands out?

Things like Crane Arts and the Fringe building, and events like PIFA. Back when I was working in Philadelphia, the renaissance was in the neighborhoods, with the neighborhood institutions. Many of them did capital development 20 years ago and really built up their operations. They really became anchors for their communities.

Feeding The Roots of ArtCleveland native Helen Haynes arrived in Philadelphia more than 25 years ago to be the executive director of the Coalition for African American and Latino Cultural Organizations, which brought together 18 institutions that acted as a de facto inner city arts council. She then served as the director of cultural affairs at Montgomery County Community College. In June, she was named Philadelphia's chief cultural officer in the city's Office of Arts, Culture and the Creative Economy. She spoke with our G.W. Miller III about how the city's art scene has evolved over the last 25 years.

Is the idea to influence the community folks or politicians or what?

The idea is to influence funders. And to bring together a group of service providers as stakeholders to work with some of the institutions I named and others – to come up with strategies for sustainability.

What’s your role in all this?

My role as the chief cultural officer is really involved with policy. We try to organize and convene. The ongoing projects of this office deal with public art. The city owns 1,500 pieces of public art. It was the first city in the United States to establish a public arts program. We preserve and maintain the public art in the city – sculptures, murals among other things. We also commission new work through the percent of art program.

Is it possible to directly impact the individual artists?

Absolutely. You do when you support community institutions. They’re the ones employing and presenting artists locally.

Study after study says that people first engage or encounter culture and the arts in their communities. That also feeds to the big institutions. It feeds up. To keep the trees healthy, you have to feed the roots. That’s what we’re trying to do.

Philadelphia has always been a great music city. A lot of people come here to record today. It’s been a hotbed for great movements in music. It’s always been a great jazz city. The Philadelphia jazz musician is feared. We have some of the finest jazz musicians in the world. And they are the most well-traveled artists. They perform internationally. They’re appreciated more there than they are here.

How do we change that?

We have to change that. It has a lot to do with how we promote the city, how we support the city.

of bar mitzvah money,” says Rick Green, who still helms Midnight Sun, his brother having succumb to lung cancer in 2012. But Rick and Stu Green didn’t do it alone. “Mike Hoffman was a 12-year-old kid who lived in an apartment attached to the Tower,” says Green. “He was this little guy who had an import business going with rare records across the world. We nurtured him to death.” Hoffman, who now owns A.K.A. Music on Second Street in Old City (listed by Rolling Stone in 2010 as one of the top 30 record stores in America), was oddly instrumental in bringing up-and-coming U.K. bands to the Tower. “I was friends with Rick and I would make suggestions about bands they should bring in,” Hoffman recalls. “I was just an avid, young music fan.” His most notorious haul? A flamboyant English progressive rock band called Genesis, fronted by Peter Gabriel. “I pushed [Rick] to bring them in,” explains Hoffman. “I just told them how great it would be.” Those initial shows – David Bowie and The Spiders from Mars, Genesis, Dave Mason and Buzzy Linhart – would launch the Tower Theater directly into its golden era and grant it a page in the annals of live music history. “David Bowie put our company on the map,” Green states. Bruce Springsteen, who was quickly building a reputation in Philly and New Jersey, debuted his newly formed E Street Band at the Tower in September, 1974. There, Green says he premiered

“Born to Run,” which he announced as “Tramps Like Us.” Other reputable performances during the Tower’s golden age included The Rolling Stones, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, Queen, Lou Reed, Jerry

Garcia, Bob Marley & The Wailers, The Clash, and of course, local legends Hall & Oates. Some might argue that the Tower’s golden age never ended. After all, it’s still reeling in big contemporary music and comedy acts like Lorde, Joe Rogan, Aziz Ansari, Dave Matthews Band, Nickel Creek, Dave Chappelle, Band of Horses and Amos Lee. But is the Tower’s position just outside the city limits hindering its potential as a venue today? Jim Sutcliffe, director of marketing at Live Nation, which presides over all Tower Theater activities, doesn’t seem to think so.

“I take the subway from Second and Spring Garden to the Tower Theater in about 20 minutes,” he claims, saying the Tower is a straight shot out of the city. The venue only sits a few blocks away from the Philadelphia-Upper Darby border. Interior renovations to the Tower are coming to a close. “The renovations contemporize the feel of the building while keeping the heritage,” says Sutcliffe. While time and rock ‘n’ roll have worn the Tower down, the recent renovations retain and even highlight the original aesthetic and the history that’s gone down there. “You have to be there to experience it,” says Sutcliffe. - Tony Abraham

Restored To Golden AgeThe Tower Theater is a landmark just outside Philly city limits and it's full of history.


This Place Rocks

Imagine it's the Roaring '20s and on stage, a motley crew of gaudily clad vaudevillians works the audience at the Tower Theater. Illusionists demonstrate magic tricks, risqué burlesque dancers line the stage and quick-witted Abbott and Costello-esque comedians sling puns and sing topical tunes. This stuff is all the rage. These performers entertain Philadelphians and residents of surrounding areas before moving along to the next venue on the circuit. Ah, the history - how profoundly it courses through the foundations of the Tower. Built in 1927 by John. H. McClatchy of 69th Street Properties for $1.25 million – just two years before the world economy came tumbling down – the Tower Theater began as a vaudeville venue and movie house showing the latest moving pictures to come out of Golden Age Hollywood. As vaudeville and burlesque shows began to lose their luster in the wake of a modernizing American audience, the Tower relied heavily on those classic Hollywood flicks. After narrowing its business model down to simply being a movie house decked out with elaborate imported rugs, artisanal furniture and magnificent marble staircases, the Tower became inferior to the rise of more conveniently located movie theaters. It quickly went from an elegant, dignified place where you could easily picture Statler and Waldorf harassing vaudevillians from the balconies, to a crummy discount theater showing third-run movies for $1 admission. As if the failure to adapt to contemporary culture weren’t enough, a fire destroyed most of the Tower in 1972. Then, show-promoting company Midnight Sun Co. came in, spearheaded brothers Stu and Rick Green. “We were kids. We were capitalized with $10,000 Bo

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As Cajun group BeauSoleil avec Michael Doucet plays to the audience, four couples make their way to the dance floor at Ardmore Music Hall. More start to join as the set progresses. The number of couples jumps to seven, then to 10. Some slow dance, some two step. More audience members watch from the elevated seating area behind them. Others hover near the bar. It’s a crowd of around 100 people, mostly older but some young. All are gathered to hear great music on a pleasant Wednesday summer evening. They create a scene that you’d never have expected to see just a few short years ago, when Ardmore Music Hall was Brownie’s 23 East. The bar, located right on Lancaster Avenue and just a few steps from the Ardmore train station on the R5 line, then catered to a college crowd, playing DJ music and booking cover bands. “This is sort of what I always wanted to do with this venue,” says owner Joe Rufo, who has owned the building for more than 20 years, of the new direction he decided to take AMH. “When I opened what was Brownie's back in the ’90s, the cover band scene was really driving most of the business and most people were going out to see that kind of stuff. So I sort of stayed with that because it was doing really well. When I had an opportunity to rebrand this as the Ardmore Music Hall, it was exciting because I am a music guy. I like to see different types of things and I knew that would work here.” Since September 2013, a number of prominent local, regional and nationally touring acts have taken the stage at AMH. Posters from some of the most successful shows are papered against the wall of the venue’s entrance, including everyone from Justin Townes Earle and Carlene Carter to Splintered Sunlight and the West Philadelphia Orchestra. Both Point Entertainment (Keswick Theatre, Colonial Theatre, Philadelphia Folk Festival) and Bonfire Shows (Electric Factory, Underground Arts, Milkboy Philly) have a hand in booking the AMH entertainment. Rufo says he wanted to work with both companies because he knew they’ve had immense success in different areas and venues and that they could both deliver for AMH. “To me it was the perfect marriage of two different promoters who sort of

have two different outlooks on things and two different types of connections,” he says. “Everyone gets along, so it works out well." Jesse Lundy of Point Entertainment says that the Main Line audience are an educated group of people who appreciate art and music but may not want to travel to the city in order to get their cultural fill. “There are a lot of people who say to themselves, 'Maybe I don't want to drive 20 minutes into the city,'” Lundy says. “It's not far but driving into the city, paying to park, paying for ridiculously priced food and drinks, having to leave a show 20 minutes into it to feed your meter, those kind of things. That's

not what this audience is about. When you talk about synth pop duos and stuff like that, then the kids are in town. That's where that group of people live.” Rufo believes Ardmore Music Hall draws some people from the city but that most of the venue’s market is local. That doesn’t stop them from booking Philly-based acts like Johnny Showcase - who Rufo says “blew him away” - and others like Ali Wadsworth and Toy Soldiers. “We're part of the Philadelphia scene,” Rufo says. “Just because we're not in the city doesn't mean we're not part of the scene. But we're also in our own little world, too.” "It's an exciting time musically in Philly right now,” adds Lundy. “Whether it's The Districts or Ron Gallo or all of these bands that are just killing it right now and are touring and working. That's really exciting when that happens. There were a lot of years where there wasn't anything going on, so it's great." Rufo says Ardmore Music Hall's versatility contributes to its popularity, with a 100-person

crowd like the one that’s here tonight enjoying themselves just as much as the 800-person crowd that was present when AMH hosted The Hooters last year. “Whether there are 90 people here or 190 people here, the folks who are here now are having fun and they're going to leave here, hopefully, with a smile on their face and want to come back,” Rufo says. “That's really the goal - to continue to build an audience of loyal customers who may say, 'What's going on in Ardmore tonight?' and not just wait for an email from a band and instead say, 'Hey let's check the Ardmore schedule tonight. Well I've never heard of these guys but they sound good, let's go because the quality of music is always good.’ That's what we're trying to maintain, is whatever kind of music you like. Whether it's jam, whether it's country or folk, we're going to have it and it's going to be good.”

- Beth Ann Downey

its Own Little World Before it became Ardmore Music Hall, the venue featured mostly cover bands. But there's an audience on the Main Line that wants quality music.

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Cover Story

Philadelphia began focusing on arts and culture as a tool for revitalization 20 years ago. It's worked well so far. But

we've reached a delicate point. Competition has increased while our tax base has shifted and institutional funding

has dried up. Schools remain a mess and the future of the city is in limbo.

Story by G.W. Miller III.

CANMUSICSAVETHECITY?

Cover Story

JUMPphilly.com 33

It’s a mid-summer Wednesday afternoon in South Philly and the brass is pumping. The crew from the funk ensemble Swift Technique blast out song after song that gets people moving. And when they cover Michael

Jackson’s “Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough,” well, the crowd in the backyard at the Headlong Performance Institute erupts. People who had been drinking whiskey and studying their intricate glassware suddenly jump to their feet and start twisting, stomping and waving their hands in the air. The two girls sitting on the vendor table where tapestries are offered start moving side-to-side in unison. Even the guy manning the grill at the opposite end of the courtyard starts spinning around, a spatula in one hand and a PBR in the other. As the song ends and the trumpet sound fades, you can hear the bandmates mumbling for a moment as they improvise their set list. Singer Chelsea ViaCava speaks into the microphone and explains, “We’ve got to figure out what we all know.” It’s a spontaneous and communal affair – the people performing are all part of Rising Pulse Productions team. Bass players, drummers, trombonists and a bongo player rotate in and out between songs. “Nik?” ViaCava says into the microphone. “Do you know this one?” And Nik Greeley, the frontman for the rock band formerly known as Black Stars, who had been standing by the food table, drinking beer and talking to everyone, runs toward the band and takes the mic. ViaCava and Greeley whisper for a moment and then break into a super groovy, horn-backed version of Bill Withers’ “Use Me.” Greeley – the ultimate showman - growls, pumps his fist and slides to his knees, where he arches his back and pleadingly wails before the girls sitting on the tapestry table. He frantically emotes for one more song, seemingly burning through all of his energy and passion, and then retreats to the back of the courtyard and his beer. “Getting out of Jersey and being here all the time has done wonders,” admits Greeley, 24, who recently started working in Center City and has been performing around town much more since leaving his family home in Marlton. “It’s really refreshing.” In a few weeks, he’s moving into an apartment in the city. He’s refocused his life – music is what he wants to do. And he knows that he has to be here to make it all happen. “If you’re an artist from South Jersey, there’s a lot to write about because we’re all disgruntled,” Greeley says with a laugh. “But we have to come to Philly to be recognized.”

That’s always been the case. People have been coming to Philadelphia to find musical success for generations. American Bandstand, Gamble and Huff, Larry Gold’s The

Studio and other attractions drew world-class talent to the city. Pottstown native Daryl Hall came to Philly where he met John Oates, who had moved to the city from North Wales. Marsha Ambrosius arrived in Philly from Liverpool. Amos Lee was born here but raised in Cherry Hill. After college in South Carolina, Lee returned to Philadelphia and became a staple of the local music scene (when he wasn’t on the road). The new arrivals complemented a deep stable of homegrown talent, a historic all-star list that includes Frankie Avalon, Pat Martino, Will Smith, Jill Scott, Jazmine Sullivan, Meek Mill and more. “Music is the heartbeat of Philadelphia,” says Philly native Fatin Dantzler, half of the R&B duo Kindred The Family Soul. “Music is the science behind everything.” We’ve always been a talented city but in the early 1990s - when Ed Rendell became mayor - music and the arts were placed at the center of the city’s revitalization plan. When he took office, the city was 27 days away from being bankrupt. Crime had spiked 16 percent the year before Rendell became mayor. And decades of neglect had left the city dirty, scary and short of prospects. “There was no building going on in the city, no businesses in the city,” Rendell recalls. “And everyone was leaving or looking to take the first available option

out of the city.” One of Rendell’s first major projects was the creation of the Avenue of The Arts, Inc., a non-profit organization tasked with using the arts to draw people to Broad Street, from Glenwood Avenue in North Philly to Washington Avenue in South Philly. That initiative spurred tourism and then fostered the restaurant revival. It slowly helped create the vibrancy we see downtown today. That energy started spreading around the city, cascading from neighborhood to neighborhood over the past 20 years. “The arts are at the center of everything,” says Helen Haynes, the city’s chief cultural officer. “Some people think of the arts as a fringe but they’re not and they’ve never been at the fringe of any culture. If you study the great cultures of the world, going back in history, the things that we dig up to find out what they were thinking, what they were doing, what their philosophy was, how their society was progressing? It’s through the arts. What we create as artists defines who we are.” The arts have also become a major economic driver, generating more than $3.3 billion in the region annually, according to the Greater Philadelphia Cultural Alliance. The problem is that we may now be at the apex of this spectacular movement and it’s difficult to imagine the pace continuing. Foundation funding for organizations is becoming difficult to obtain. There are more organizations – galleries, music venues, theaters, nonprofits, etc. - fighting for every available dollar. And the employment outlook for artists remains bleak. Too many of our musicians, for instance, serve coffee or deliver pizzas in between concerts

and tours. In a post-industrial era, however, music and the arts may be the last great hope for a city with a massive public education crisis, lack of political leadership and conservative values masked behind Democratic voter registration. “Holding on to the creative class, especially the Millennials,” says Haynes, “that’s going to be really important.” Can the arts and associated amenities keep them (and their tax base) here? Can music save the city? The answer to both questions almost has to be yes. Or else.

“That’s the natural progression of any society,” says Greg Rosen, the trumpet player and founding member of Swift Technique. Manufacturing grows, labor becomes expensive and then industry

leaves for places where production is cheaper. The arts rise in their place. Rosen lives above the Headlong Performance Institute, where this Wednesday afternoon show is taking place. Headlong’s ground floor studios were once the viewing rooms for the Fiorentino Funeral Home. Behind the stage in the courtyard is the former crematorium. Rosen, who hails from Bordentown, New Jersey, came to Philadelphia to attend the University of The Arts. After graduating in 2011, he watched as many of his friends ran off to New York, Austin and elsewhere. “We don’t have to go to New York to prove we’re good musicians,” he says of his band. Greeley nods in agreement, although he gave New York a shot. After one semester at Burlington County Community College, Greeley moved to New York to attend a one-year program at the Institute of Audio Research in Greenwich Village. He interned at the B.B. King Blues Club and a few studios. But things didn’t work out. “Living in New York just became too expensive,” he admits. So Greeley, then just a 20-year-old punk with grand aspirations, moved to 35th Street and Haverford Avenue in West Philly. Because of our numerous colleges, many young people arrive in Philadelphia every year. Between 2000 and 2010, Philadelphia added 50,306 new residents between the ages of 20 and 34, according to the U.S. Census. The overall city population increased over the last decade for the first time following a 50-year population decline, during which we lost more than Ph

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500,000 residents. The marketing people like to say that the rise in population is due to the influx of creative young people and the empty nesters who buy fancy condos. The reality is slightly different, however. The number of foreign-born folks living in the city increased by 11.8 percent between 2008 and 2012. From 2000 to 2010, Philadelphia added 58,683 people of Hispanic origin and 28,751 Asians. The percentage of Philadelphians who classify themselves as white was at 41 percent in 2010, down from 45 percent in 2000, a loss of 57,041 people. In 1940, 86.8 percent of city residents were white. The changing face of the city parallels the changing tax base. Many of the new residents – the Millennials and the immigrants – have low-end or service industry jobs. And the much celebrated population increase was muted by the recent global recession, which squashed the already bleak job market in the city. Greeley lasted about six months in West Philly before he and his roommate ran into problems. Also, his music career failed to take off and he was broke. “I just tapped out,” he remembers. He moved back to Jersey with his parents.

It was a different world when Cherry Hill native Jim Sutcliffe graduated from Glassboro State University (now Rowan) in 1990 and began taking the bus to Philly for an internship at the Electric Factory. After six months,

he was hired full-time to do PR work, so he moved into an old warehouse with no heat on Third Street just north of Market. “It was a ghost town after 5,” he recalls. “The whole neighborhood would just clear out.” They played wiffle ball in the vacant lots and held all-night parties in their building, which was occupied by visual artists, modern dancers, musicians and other creative types. The art scene had slowly migrated to Old City from South Street, starting with the Painted Bride in 1982. Many young artists hung out at the Khyber Pass Pub, which began presenting alternative rock music in 1988, long before the area was a destination. Yet, the 200-person venue brought in acts that would become huge – Hole, Smashing Pumpkins, Pavement and others. “It was amazing to be a part of that scene,” says Sutcliffe, who is now the director of marketing for Live Nation in Philadelphia. Other arts organizations sprung up around the neighborhood. In 1991, they began celebrating the creativity there by holding First Friday events. And by 1995, there were at least seven venues in Old City offering live, original music. As the area prospered and artists were priced out, the creative folks moved north – to Northern Liberties and then to Fishtown and now into Kensington and beyond. Other scenes sprouted around the city, often around music venues and cultural institutions. Born from the arts, those areas have matured into cohesive communities. “The sector as a whole enhances civic life by providing a wide variety of publics with significant cultural experiences that are both inspirational and entertaining,” says Paula Marincola, the executive director of The Pew Center for Arts & Heritage. “These experiences resonate with audience members not only in that moment but also throughout their day-to-day lives.” In other words, there’s also a social impact of the arts. “The arts do a lot more than put money into the system,” says Haynes, the city's chief cultural officer. “They do a lot more.” Josh Tirado was older than the age limit at Rock To The Future, a free music workshop for city kids, when he started picking up his little sister, Samira Long, there four years ago. While he was waiting for her to finish band practice, the 14-year-old, 5’9”, 230-pound high school football player would sit down with other students and assist them with their math homework. One day, RTTF program director Josh Craft approached Tirado. “He said if I keep helping kids with their math homework, he’ll teach me how to play guitar,” remembers Tirado. Tirado quit football and visited the Kensington-based workshop after school nearly every day and most Saturdays for the next four years. While other kids in his Fishtown neighborhood were stealing bicycles, joining gangs, getting into fights and worse, Tirado learned how to play guitar, bass, piano and drums. “Thank god I didn’t hang out with those kids,” Tirado says. “I’m not trying to mess up my future or anyone else’s.” He had been bullied when he was younger but the music lessons gave him the social skills to deal with people. He quit fighting with his sister. Tirado

became more disciplined and his grades improved – he was an honors student his last two years at Franklin Learning Center. In June, he became RTTF’s first high school graduate. “He’s doing things on his own now,” says Tirado’s mother, Catherine Long. “He didn’t have the confidence to think he could do stuff before.” In August, Tirado ended his RTTF house band career, performing the intricate guitar solo in Guns N’ Roses’ “Sweet Child O’ Mine” before a small crowd at a fundraiser for the organization. He started classes at the Community College of Philadelphia this semester. He plans to become an X-ray technician.

It’s a Thursday night, a week after the afternoon show at Headlong. Nik Greeley stands outside of Finnegan’s Wake, talking to everyone who walks into the club for the Liberty Music Fest. He has a personalized

greeting for each person – all the music industry people, that is. But he looks exhausted. He slumps against the wall. His big head of dark, bushy hair is slightly disheveled. His shirt is fairly wrinkled (the result of being worn several days in a row). Four years of living in Jersey, commuting to Philly for regular shows, rehearsals, recording sessions, networking and supporting friends, plus worrying about his future, have taken their toll on the young man. “I kept thinking, ‘What am I doing here?’” Greeley says of his time living with his parents. As the leader of Black Stars, he handled booking, promotion, press relations and everything else involved in managing the band. He worked odd jobs to pay the bills but he was constantly chasing his tail and getting nowhere. “This summer has been all about change for me,” he offers. “I’m figuring out what I want to be. Starting a band is a fucking business.” And Black Stars are falling apart. The original lineup has essentially broken up – the drummer is now a nurse, the guitar player is in business school and the bass player makes more money performing cover band gigs. “The last four years have been a learning process,” Greeley says of his time in Jersey. “I’m ready to start with a clean slate.”

Look at Center City now and it’s hard to imagine the dark days. Walk down 13th Street on a Friday night and you have to fight through mobs of people, past outdoor diners, gelato lovers and revelers of all sorts.

Everything seems so grand. “When you look at the aggregate, there has been some recovery from losses during the recession,” says Michael Norris, the interim president of the Greater Philadelphia Cultural Alliance. “But what we’re seeing is that that’s actually being driven by a small number of organizations that are doing really, really well because they have a large endowment.” The Philadelphia Museum of Art and The Barnes Foundations, for instance, are thriving. “When you take a snapshot of the sector, it looks pretty good,” Norris continues. “But when you remove these outliers, it’s not so pretty. A lot of our organizations are in deficit. They’re struggling through the shifting funding environment, trying to see new business models. That creates some volatility.” The Prince Theater, Suzanne Roberts Theater, the Please Touch Museum and others are now struggling. “We’ve had a rich foundation culture for so long and in some ways,” Norris says, “that kind of created an over-reliance upon foundations.” The institutional funding landscape has crumbled – the Annenberg Foundation moved to California, Pew refocused their priorities and Lenfest is spending down their money. Despite 20 years of using the arts as the backbone of the city’s renaissance, there remains little support from government for the arts. Pennsylvania ranks 27th in the United States in terms of money allocated to the arts by state government, according to National Assembly of State Arts Agencies. Aside from the Percent for Art program, which requires developers building on land acquired through the city’s Redevelopment Authority to dedicate at least one percent of the total construction costs toward the commissioning of original art, there is very little public money that is dedicated to the arts in Philadelphia. The Philadelphia Cultural Fund has a meager $3.1 million to allocate annually. Any other funding must be begged for in legislative bodies, thrusting the arts into competition with education, crime prevention, public transportation and other social programs. “Targeted investments in the arts at the grassroots level are both higher-

JUMPphilly.com 35

Cover Story

quality and less expensive than the white elephant stadiums, convention centers and mega-casinos that so many city leaders waste their taxpayers’ money on,” says Richard Florida, the University of Toronto and NYU professor who pioneered the academic study of the creative class. “The idea is to foster the organic development of a uniquely authentic creative scene, not to expensively graft something onto it - a big, new symphony hall that will never sell enough tickets to support itself or a ‘cultural center’ that is really a subsidized venue for commercial touring acts.” Our politicians seem to recognize this but they can only do so much in a city strapped for cash. City Councilman David Oh launched PHL Live, a music festival/competition that is intended to show off our local talent. In June, councilmembers Curtis Jones, Blondell Reynolds Brown and Cindy Bass sponsored a resolution to hold hearings to “investigate methods to enhance new and emerging artists’ access to arts, entertainment and cultural venues.” The Greater Philadelphia Cultural Alliance is now developing a cultural platform to ensure that the arts and culture are a focal point in next year’s race to replace Michael Nutter as mayor. Among the ideas they are considering are tax breaks for artists and the creation of new arts districts. “Writ large, creative economies turn on knowledge, ideas and copyrightable or patentable content, as opposed to manufactured goods and services,” says Florida. “As such, their most important resource is the innate talent and creativity of their residents. Creative people are drawn to communities that are open, diverse and thick with amenities.” It becomes a perpetual circle – art creates community, which needs culture to survive and thrive. If we don’t keep our young, creative talent here and constantly attract new people through arts and culture, the city is left with a declining tax base, an education system on the brink of collapse and a political machine that would make Rizzo proud. And right now, we are at the precipice.

Nik Greeley reached his low point last winter. He was so depressed that he barely got off the couch at his father’s home in Marlton. Also, the people he grew up with were succeeding or otherwise moving on.

The final straw landed when his father moved from Jersey to the Pennsylvania suburbs. Rather than move with his father, Greeley lined up an apartment in the city. But the apartment’s availability kept getting delayed and delayed. He was already committed to the city by then, so he crashed on couches in Manayunk, Fishtown and here, at the South Philly home of Jake Weaver, his manager from Rising Pulse Productions. Greeley takes a swig of his Dogfish Head IPA and sheepishly admits, “For the past few months, I’ve essentially been homeless.” His possessions are spread around numerous friends’ homes, which is why he wears the same clothes for days on end – he only ever has a few items with him anywhere. And despite Weaver having a sectional couch with at least 20 feet of sofa surface, Greeley usually opts to sleep on the floor. “I haven’t slept in a bed in four or five months,” he says. “My back is fucked up. Sofas are too soft.” Ironically, he’s busier than ever. He’s a server at a Center City restaurant a few days per week. The band formerly known as Black Stars (they are likely changing the name since the lineup has completely turned over … but coming up with a band name is difficult) have performed a lot over the summer in Philly, New York and elsewhere. Greeley has also been singing for Swift Technique at gigs all around the Mid-Atlantic region. And during down times, he and his new colleagues in Black Stars have been recording at Forge Studio whenever they can. “Every day I wake up and I just go with it,” Greeley says. “I know what I have to do every day but I don’t know where I’ll wind up.” He sees no resolution to his housing situation in the near future. He’s in permanent limbo. Tomorrow, Greeley will play four shows – a block party in Northern Liberties, a deck party at Dave & Buster’s, a bar show in Marlton and a Swift Technique gig at World Café Live. He’s not sure where he’ll rest his head after performing all day but he has no regrets about leaving Jersey for Philadelphia. “It sucks being a burden on friends but I’ll return the favor one day,” he says. “I’m so much happier now.”

Cover Story


China?The journey to the basement studio is full

of stories but as Phil tells it, it began just 15 minutes away in Wayne, Pennsylvania,

where he grew up. “My earliest memory of music was that on Sunday, my dad would always play opera records,” Phil says, adding that among his father's favorites were “The Barber of Seville,” “Carmen” and the works of Giuseppe Verdi. “That music is so amazing. As a little kid I used to listen to all this great music and was like, ‘Wow, this is floating my boat.’ ” By age nine, The Beatles had hit and Phil, along with brother Joe, were hooked. On a trip to the Wildwood boardwalk, they bought their first mini tape recorder and began recording anything that would make a sound. “It was this crappy little thing, but we loved recording. I was kind of a geek; 'Ooh, listen to this,' 'Ooh, what's this knob do?’” Phil says. “I'm a knob twister, you know? I'm a music-loving knob twister.” By high school, the knob twisting had expanded to recording friends’ bands with a “shitty little” four-channel mixer. The recordings were far from professional quality but Phil says it gave his friends a chance to hear what they sounded like in an era when expensive recording studios were the only other options. Following his graduation from Archbishop Carroll High School, he took his passion to Temple University, where he entered the Radio, Television and Film program. That was in the mid ’70s, when Phil says colleges would only restock with the latest equipment every seven years or so.

JUMPphilly.com 37

Phil Nicolo's doing what he does best. He's tinkering. Hunched over a small desk, his eyes

are excitedly scanning a computer screen. He seems to be almost trembling with anticipation. Surrounding him is a control room filled with all kinds of boards and buttons, dials and wires, faders and switches. On screen is The Beatles' “Don't Let Me Down,” laid out neatly in tracks. It's the original studio recordings, all in a row - Paul McCartney's bass, Ringo Starr's drums and studio musician Billy Preston's keyboards among them. But Phil has one particular track in mind. “Let's listen to John Lennon and Paul McCartney sing by themselves and get goosebumps,” he says. He selects the track and hits play. A hush falls over the room for several seconds, with only a slight white static noise emanating from the speakers. And then... “Don't let me down!” Lennon screams passionately from out of the silence. The hush is back for several seconds. Phil closes his eyes and bobs his head to a nonexistent beat, his brow furrowed emotionally. “Don't let me down!” he mouths, perfectly timed with a second scream from Lennon. The goosebumps come. “Then you get Paul coming in on the harmony,” Phil says. Now two voices are screaming in unison, punctuating the eerie silence in between. Phil begins to shuffle his feet and move around. He's in the groove. “Don't let me down!” they bellow.

“And they're just looking at each other while they're doing this, man,” Phil exclaims. “Come on!”

Nobody ever loved me like she do me Ooh she do me Yeah, she does

Then Phil moves back to the mouse and begins clicking away. Lennon and McCartney's vocals grow quieter, like they've gone underwater. He highlights a few other tracks — the bass and drums — and hits play. The bass line rumbles the floor. It starts and stops, almost bumbling. “Fucking Paul McCartney's bass playing,” Phil says with admiration, as his eyes close again and he plucks an invisible bass. “I mean, one of the greatest melody makers on the fucking planet, right?” Phil would know. At 58, he's been around a lot of melody makers. As an award-winning engineer, producer and mixer who has worked with countless stars, it almost seems unreal that he's working out of a basement space, dubbed Studio 4, below a bar on Conshohocken’s main strip. All over the walls are proof of his storied career in music. Framed gold and silver records from artists like Phil Collins, Billy Joel and Aerosmith. There are autographs and thank you notes from legends like Jon Bon Jovi and Sting. A picture of a smiling Phil on a couch with George Clinton, neither looking particularly sober. Another picture with Phil and three others at the Grammy's, smiling from ear-to-ear with their freshly won award. “Do we look happy?” he asks, jokingly.

Story by Kyle Bagenstose. Photo by Rachel Del Sordo.

Phil Nicolo started his recording career in the attic of his family home. He went on to produce some of music's biggest hitmakers. And soon he may open shop in Beijing.

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“The gear at Temple was archaic,” Phil says. “I was like, 'I can't do shit here.' At that point, Joey and I were like, 'You know what? Let's get some of our own shitty gear and we'll build a little studio in our parents' attic.'” Phil remained at Temple but in the meantime established his own recording studio with his brother, appropriately named “The Attic.” While still using a four-track recorder, they started to take the efforts more seriously. Their recordings of local bands actually sounded good, and by the time graduation rolled around, Phil and his brother Joe were ready to take the next step. In 1979, they opened Half Track Studios on Radnor Street in Wayne. “It’s great when your passion can become your vocation,” says Joe Nicolo. “After getting out of college, job opportunities were slim and none, focusing on none. Basically your guidance counselor was like, ‘If you can’t find a job doing what you want to do, figure out a way where you can create your own opportunity by starting up your own business.’ And that’s what we did.”

Joe and Phil continued to grow their clientele, but it wasn't until they met a mentor that the door into the higher circles of the recording

world opened. “We met a guy named Obie O'Brien and originally, he was one of the biggest dicks I ever met,” Phil says. “He came in and was like, 'What a fucking dump!' But the reality was he was the first engineer or producer I ever worked with who really knew what the hell he was doing.” O'Brien was friends with Tony Bongiovi, a cousin of Jon “Bon Jovi” Bongiovi and owner of the infamous New York City recording studio, The Power Station. Phil was the beneficiary of invitations to the studio, where he brushed elbows with big names for the first time. “It was the place to be and I was sleeping on the fucking floor in Tony's apartment, right next to Jon Bon Jovi, who was also just an assistant intern there,” Phil says. “I got to watch Bruce Springsteen make The River. I got to watch Talking Heads make their first record. I got to watch David Bowie make Scary Monsters.” He more than just watched. Phil learned. He credits the experience with teaching him that making music isn't just about twisting knobs but the interaction between the people on both sides of the studio glass. “I learned the real deal about how to make records,” Phil says. “It isn't about how you put the windscreen on the mic. I learned the psychology of it. If you get the drummer to feel great, he's going to play great.” With the new knowledge and O'Brien's help, Phil says he and Joe once again upgraded their digs. In 1981, they opened Studio 4 in Philadelphia at the corner of Fourth and Callowhill streets. The brother’s parents mortgaged their house to help pay for professional-quality gear and the clients began rolling in. Phil gravitated more toward the rock side, working with artists like The Hooters, while Joe handled the hip-hop side, recording rappers like Schoolly D. Joe says that no matter with which genre the artist they were working with identified, both

he and Phil were good at getting into their heads, figuring out their focus, making them as comfortable as possible and making the creative process fun. “Everybody really has the same dreams and ambitions of wanting to make it in the music business,” he says. “I think we were good at providing some focus to people, and an outside point of view, that ultimately seemed to be a successful formula.” By the end of the decade, there was enough talented clientele circling through the studio to warrant the launching of a label, Ruffhouse Records. While Joe and business partner Chris Schwartz were officially credited as founders, the Nicolos worked the technical side together. The label took off and was eventually picked up by Sony Records. “All of the sudden in the early ’90s, the fucking shoes got blown off,” Phil says, adding that artists like Kris Kross, Cypress Hill, Lauryn Hill and The Fugees signed to the label. “In a 10-year period, we sold, like, 110 million records. It was one of those things.”

In need of more space, the Nicolos began looking outside Philadelphia. They found the Conshohocken location, a former factory that

had been foreclosed, and gobbled it up for half the price the bank was asking. Spread out over the building's 18,000 square feet, they set up eight recording studios and numerous mixing rooms over three floors and also established an office space for Ruffhouse. By then, the Nicolos had been dubbed the “Butcher Bros.,” a nickname that originated in the editing room. “Back in those days there was no digital editing, so if you wanted to do edits, you had to literally cut the tape,” Phil says. “Joey was working with this guy Ray Monahan and watching Joey cut up the tape, he was like, 'You cut that tape like a butcher!'” The name stuck and expanded to cover both brothers when a band called Urge Overkill wanted a catchy credit to put on a record. “They were all style conscious and cool and they were like, ‘We can't call you guys Joe and Phil Nicolo,” Phil says, snapping his fingers to act out a moment of clarity. “The Butcher Bros!” However, the name was ironically appropriate for the new Conshohocken location. “My dad was a butcher, and he used to work at a shop right across the street from our building,” Phil says. “He worked there for like 40 years, so it was incredibly ironic that 30-something years later, we bought the building that we did.” But the arrangement wasn't made to last. After two decades of successful partnership, Phil and Joey, along with Schwartz, were pulled down separate professional paths. In 2000, they sold Ruffhouse to Sony and as Phil puts it, “broke up.” “It was kind of like a marriage,” Phil said. “After 12 years [with the label], everyone needed to get away, which was fine.” Joey and Schwartz gravitated toward producing movies, and Phil stayed on at Studio 4. “It was almost like The Beatles,” Phil says. “In seven years in Conshohocken, we kicked a lot of ass.”

Fourteen years later, operations at Studio 4 have shrunk significantly. Phil initially leased the ground floor to The Great

American Pub, a popular bar in town, and eventually switched roles by selling the building to the bar and moving his studios into the basement. However, it's not a story of decline. Phil continued to have success post-Ruffhouse, picking up engineering and mixing credits for big name artists like Aerosmith and Amy Grant. In 2005, he won a Grammy for mixing and mastering on the Spanish Harlem Orchestra's Across 100th Street. He says he's also developed a reputation as a sage engineer, a self-described “bottom of the 9th guy.” “People come in here and I help them finish off their record,” Phil says. “Nowadays a lot of bands make a record themselves. But then, as they round third, they're like, ‘Holy shit, where's home plate?’” He's brought fresh blood into the studio in the form of Will Yip, a 26-year-old producer who Phil says has a natural genius for the trade. Yip has worked with bands like Circa Survive, Rusted Root and Title Fight, doing a lot of recording and occasionally looking to Phil for help at the mixing board.

Although Studio 4's Conshohocken operations aren't what they once were, Phil still gets adventurous. On a whim, a

friend based in Taiwan invited Phil to fly to China last year and help record a band called Black Panther, which he describes as Asia's answer to Led Zeppelin. Phil took the offer, and hung around to do sound design at arenas where Black Panther played. He once again did what he does best and started tinkering with knobs. “The concerts freaking blew people away,” Phil says. “The Chinese look at music very technically. 'Oh, if [a level] hits red, turn it off.' So I bring a creative side to it and push the boundaries.” Phil made an impression on the executives of Rock Forward, which he says is China's equivalent of LiveNation, but with a government-sanctioned monopoly over music. What started out as theoretical talks about opening a Studio 4 location in Beijing quickly turned serious. Phil says he now plans to spend six months of the next year there working to open a studio. “The concept is to elevate music and sound quality in China, period,” Phil says. “This is like beach front property that’s undeveloped,” Joe says of Phil’s work in China. “It’s uncharted territory and he can bring that enthusiasm and that love of the music to a place that really needs it. He really loves the prospect of him doing it. The Chinese love the prospect of his energy. So it’s amazing. It’s awesome. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that the whole thing comes to fruition.” It's a new adventure for Phil, who says his career is far from the winding down stage. In fact, he says he barely looks past the next day. “I still get up every day and thank God I get to do what I do,” Phil says. “I love making music. I've always been a seat-of-the-pants kind of guy. I'm very, 'Let's see where it goes.'”

Cover Story

SoupySoupygoeSgoeShomehome


The Wonder Years' frontman, Dan "Soupy" Campbell,

graduated from college and moved back to the suburbs.The Wonder Years' frontman, Dan "Soupy" Campbell,

graduated from college and moved back to the suburbs.

Story by Beth AnN Downey.

photos by Jessica Flynn.Story by Beth AnN Downey.

Photos by Jessica Flynn.

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Cover Story

Of the patronage in Michael’s Family Restaurant tonight, it is doubtful you'd be able to find one person under the age of 50. Taylor Swift and other comparable pop tunes play overhead at the

Montgomeryville joint. The crowd, dispersed amongst seafoam green vinyl booths, enjoys the traditional diner faire, stocked salad bar and treats from the artfully organized pastry display. It’s the kind of suburban spot where older customers can eat alone without feeling out-of-place. It’s a place where strangers can easily talk to each other over the wall between booths, or where the friendly waitstaff will greet you by name and listen attentively to your best new news. This is the place about which Lansdale-based pop punk titans The Wonder Years wrote the song “Coffee Eyes,” off their 2012 release Suburbia I’ve Given You All and Now I’m Nothing. While many of the same characteristics described in the song are apparent tonight, the diner seems different for frontman Dan Campbell, who would often hang out here with friends in their high school days. The waitress he references in the song, named Patty, now works at a diner down the street. But as what proves true for most of us about relics of our childhood, some things about Michael’s haven’t changed for Campbell at all. “Every time I eat the fries here I get really sick,” says Campbell, more commonly known as Soupy to friends and fans alike, upon seeing his order. “So what’s going to happen is I really want them and I’m going to eat them. But then, when I have to literally run for a while, it’s because of the fries. You didn’t need to know about my bowel movements but now you do.” Despite the impending gastrointestinal issues, it’s nights like these that make Campbell happy to be living in Lansdale. Matt Brasch, guitarist for The Wonder Years, is in tow but opts for just a coffee. Brasch also lives in Lansdale but says he still ventures to the city frequently. The two play flag football every week together with a group of friends, including bandmates Josh Martin and Casey Cavaliere, and both enjoy having a yard now just as much as they did when they were kids. Though Campbell misses biking everywhere like he did when he lived in Philly, he gets his dose of city life when visiting his girlfriend, who resides in Brooklyn. “The idea of, ‘Oh we’ve gotta move to the city,’ when you’re in college or fresh out of it?” he says. “When it’s like, ‘That’s where all the bars and stuff are?’ That doesn’t appeal to me anyway.” It’s fitting for a man whose lyrics echo the experiences of many suburban kids, to have never really moved on. Just as “Coffee Eyes” spells out verbatim, he ended up right back where he’d left.

There are many reasons why someone would enjoy living out adulthood where they spent their youth. Campbell’s reasons don’t include his mother’s cooking.

“I don’t think my mom knows how to cook a Sunday dinner,” he says. “Bless her heart, but she’s not a chef.” Campbell’s parents were just 20 and 21 years old when they had him. They didn’t know how to cook then and not much has changed. He grew up eating only what could be microwaved. That's the reason why he’s still a very picky eater who orders out for almost every meal. His diet consists mostly of pizza, candy and chicken, but only if it’s boneless. “I’m a child when it comes to food,” he says. But childhood wasn’t so bad. At least it’s what gave him the DIY mentality he still holds today. Campbell remembers, as a 15-year-old, opening the phone book and highlighting every YMCA, library, fire hall, VFW, Knights of Columbus, Fraternal Order of the Eagle hall, Boys and Girls Club or church that he could con into allowing him and his friends to play shows at. “I’d call them all and be like, ‘Hey, I’m trying to set up a teen band jam night to help keep kids off drugs,’” he says. “I would pretend I was 18 and illegally sign contracts to rent these places out.” He guesses they averaged 100 to 150 people per show, but they weren’t all that size. “I remember there was one at the YMCA, where we had 500-plus” he adds. “It was a total attitude of we didn’t need to appease anyone to do it. That’s a great middle class American privilege, that idea of nothing was going to stand in my way but me. I could pull it off if I wanted to pull it off.”

The Wonder Years formed in 2005 when Campbell had just finished his first year of college and the others finished high school. He and Brasch went to Temple University and Cavaliere joined them in Philly,

attending Drexel University. Martin went to Millersville University and drummer Mike Kennedy attended Bloomsburg University. Campbell received a degree in secondary education and English, something he still plans to use in a future career. He first lived on Bancroft Street in Newbold, which he says is now a much nicer area than when he lived there because of new businesses like the South Philadelphia Taproom. Back then, it was where he got jacked at gunpoint and saw his pizza guy get robbed right in front of his house. He then moved into an apartment above a flower shop at Broad and Porter streets, where his landlord was a total dickhead with probable mafia ties. Lastly, he lived at 6th and Manton streets. “After that, I was done with the city for a while,” Campbell says. “I still am done with the city.” The Upsides, the 2012 release that Campbell describes as The Wonder Years’ seminal record, was written in that row home at 6th and Manton. Song titles like “Melrose Diner,” “Logan Circle” and “Washington Square Park” are clues of its Philadelphia-ness, whereas Suburbia dealt with moving home after college. “That was a whole record balanced on the idea of that homecoming and kind of experiencing the place that you grew up through adult eyes and kind of judging it in a different way,” Campbell says. “But since then, I like to think that the most recent record was less balanced on environment and spoke to a broader kind of full American experience. Or at least the America I know, because obviously there are many different Americas.” There is a particular song off their newest release, The Greatest Generation, which Campbell says he specifically aimed to set up the feeling of growing up in the Philadelphia region. With a chorus of “I want to die in the suburbs,” Campbell said he wanted to capture the way the Greater PhiladelphiaRegion has always felt blue collar, hard working, caustic in the song “We Could Die Like This.” “I speak directly and purposefully toward the 1992 Eagles season after Jerome Brown passed away,” he says. “The idea of an entire city brought to its knees by the loss of this iconic athlete and this tragedy and the idea of banding together around that feels very Philadelphian. I was trying to get those points across without being too heavy handed. I don't know what the success rate of that was. I haven't heard a whole lot of feedback on it.” Campbell and Brasch believe Google searches of “Jerome Brown” spiked drastically after The Greatest Generation was released. "I do know that we're on Jerome Brown's Wikipedia page now,” Campbell says. “That's a major life accomplishment for me."

Campbell lives on a quiet street in a house owned by his roommate and friend since high school. Wonder Years' bassist Josh Martin and guitarist/keyboard player Nick Steinborn also lived here for a few

years. Campbell has taken over a small basement room, which is adorned with The Get Up Kids and The Hold Steady posters, life-sized cutouts of Will Smith and The Undertaker, and a meticulously displayed collection of more than 100 Simpsons figurines. Out on an enclosed back deck, next to a large bookshelf full of empty craft beer bottles (his roommate’s; Campbell doesn’t drink), a wooden chair faces a laptop propped on a table a few feet away. Every day, Campbell plays through the whole set for his new solo project, Aaron West & The Roaring Twenties, records it and self-critiques. Campbell started writing solo material in order to get better at guitar. When he graduated from college, his father bought him a very nice Martin guitar (in lieu of a car, which Campbell said he would have felt uncomfortable accepting). “So I had this guitar, I could barely play it. It was really bad,” he said, adding that when he and the band are in the process of writing a Wonder Years song, he’ll usually just sing the melody and strum his way through 8th note power chords. “But that was the determination. I was like, 'I've got to get better. I want to get better. I have this guitar that I am not worthy of playing.' I would like to focus my energy on becoming worthy of playing it.” While challenging himself musically by writing solo material, Campbell also wanted to challenge himself lyrically. He started writing from the point of view of a fictional character, Aaron West – a middle-aged, recently-divorced Brooklyn man by way of Long Island. “I think that I should always be pushing myself to be better at everything, and obviously, writing lyrics is key to my career,” Campbell says. “I should get better at it, I should always be getting better at it. So I set out to do something different. I had always been of the belief system that in order for a song to be good, it had to be very honest and very real and very passionate. It needed

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to be very natural and raw from a lyrical standpoint in order for people to connect to it. I came to a staunch realization that wasn't necessarily true. I think that the emotions have to be real but the events don't have to be real.” On Warped Tour last summer, he showed the songs to Ace Enders, producer and solo artist most popularly known as the frontman of The Early November, whom Campbell describes as a “father, role model and great guy all around.” Enders told him he liked the songs and the direction he decided to take the album. “I just thought he was being standard, nice guy Ace Enders and then the next day, his merch guy came up to me and was like, 'Ace couldn't stop talking about those songs,’” Campbell recalls. “So I went back to talk to him about them again and he was like, ‘If you want to record these, I want to be the producer.’” Campbell thought about it some more. “If he thinks they're good, then they're good," he resolved. “Maybe I'll actually write them and Ace will actually produce them and I'll actually release a record.” Enders says he was immediately impressed with the concept put forth on We Don’t Have Each Other, released in July on The Wonder Years’ label, Hopeless Records. Because it was already extremely thought out and well planned, Enders says it was easier for him to nudge the rest of the instrumentation, aside from the acoustic guitar parts Campbell had already written, in the right direction. “It was really a fun experience

because I got to just play off of the lyrics and the mood that he was trying to set,” Enders says. “I felt like once we got past that certain point of really understanding what everything meant, it left the door open for me to do what I thought would make sense to complement what he was trying to get across. It was cool for me to be able to take words that he was saying and be able to turn it into emotion through all the sounds that were happening.” The album should appeal to the most extreme Wonder Years fan and to those who are simply general music lovers. Enders says that the passion Campbell emits through the lyrics is what really draws people into We Don’t Have Each Other. “I think most Wonder Years fans who are listening to it, it might take them a couple of listens before they fully see what it is,” Enders says. “But by the time they do, they will absolutely love it. It’s a good balance.” To personify Aaron West, Campbell dresses up slightly, sporting the character’s knit Buffalo Bills hat and the glasses he ordered for the character (but now wears regularly because his girlfriend likes them). For live shows, he simply introduces himself onstage as Aaron. Even at Warped Tour, where The Wonder Years fans were in attendance, Campbell says he saw a shockingly low level of confusion as to what he was doing. “I expected a lot more of, like, ‘What the fuck? Your life got a lot darker over the last year and a half' from fans,” Campbell says. “But people got it, which I was pretty impressed with.”

Aaron West may live in New York but Dan Campbell feels trapped whenever he’s there. “The idea of it being an island, it makes me feel really claustrophobic,”

he says back at the diner. “I love going there for a couple days at a time and then I get kind of antsy and need to get back out.” Despite this, Campbell might move there someday soon in order to be with his girlfriend full-time - the city providing the best offerings for her, career-

wise. Ironically, they may also decide to move to Philly, maybe Old City. “Wherever her career path takes her, that’s where I’m going to be,” he adds. Campbell knows he can continue his own career wherever he lives, from wherever he can tell a story. "Music, to me, has always been a vessel for storytelling,” Campbell says. “All of my favorite bands are lyrically dense and so I think there's a lot of value there. But that's just because that's the way that I would choose. I guess I would consider myself a writer in a certain sense but songwriting is the

medium by which I find my stories are most appropriately told. I don’t think I could ever be a novelist. I don't think short stories are my forte and even poetry, I think, lacks something songwriting gives me. So on a lot of levels, I think there is a huge value there. But narrative songwriting isn't a thing that is going to crack Top 40 radio. That's not what people are looking for." "The thing I like that Dan does really

well is throw in Easter eggs on new albums that reference back to our old albums,” adds Brasch. “I think that's a really cool thing that he does. He'll be referencing a story that happens on our first record on our newest record.

If you haven't heard that first album, you wouldn't know. But diehard fans really get a reward from that." No matter what The Wonder Years do next, the diehard fans will probably still remain. In the immediate future, that means touring this fall with fellow Philadelphia pop-punkers Modern Baseball and British punks Gnarwolves. But somewhere down the line, Campbell looks forward to someday using his teaching degree to impact the lives of inner city kids or maybe become a peewee football coach. It’s easy to see Campbell becoming this kind of mentor. His words have already helped fans deal with the trials and tribulations of growing up. Why wouldn’t his actions? “I think that with every band, some of your fan base is going to outgrow you,” Campbell says. “We started it when we were younger, and we were targeting an audience around our age. But I think that a lot of our fans have grown up with us, which I really love. I think each record has taken another step towards adulthood and I think the fans have taken the steps with us, which has been really nice. Some of them were suburban kids. A lot of them are now suburban or maybe metropolitan adults. It's interesting to see."


Food That Rocks

If you’ve got tickets to a show at the Tower Theater, consider exploring the vibrant area around the 69th Street venue. Here are a few great places to grab a bite or a drink near the club, which sits just west of the city proper in an area full of diversity. Story and photos by Rick Kauffman.

Culture, Meals and Music

A place to grab a few drinks lies just up Ludlow Street along the side entrances to the Tower. The Waterford Inn has the atmosphere of an old timey saloon — dark during the middle of the afternoon, lit by antique fixtures and filled with smoke. Its proximity to the theater makes this destination a must for pre-show preparations.

Leandro’s Pizza House62 South 69th St., Upper Darby, Pa. 19082(610) 734-1226

For more than 30 years, Leandro’s Pizza has been a staple of 69th Street in Upper Darby. Just up the hill from the Tower Theater, the sweet aroma of ‘za has been pouring out the door and enticing concertgoers and shoppers for generations. Don’t mind the huge line of people. It moves quickly.

Waterford Inn6825 Ludlow St., Upper Darby, Pa. 19082(610) 352-7300

Not only does this shop offer the best local coffee but it also offers multucltural Upper Darby valuable services. The cafe is part of a nonprofit organization called InterConnect, which assists immigrants settle in the region though ESL classes, job placement, cultural familiarization, medical assistance and anything else to ease the transition to the United States. The food served there is also worth trying.

Five Points Coffee47 Long Lane, Upper Darby, Pa. 19082(484) 466-2401

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Upstairs in the H Mart in Terminal Square, patrons will find an Asian market with Korean, Japanese and Chinese food. The ‘H’ stands for “Han Ah Reum,” a Korean phrase that translates to “arm full of groceries.” Needless to say, the quick bite offered on the second floor should offer any commuting concertgoer a tasty meal prior to showtime.

H Mart7052 Terminal Sq., Upper Darby, Pa. 19082(610) 734-1001


I’m too young to complain. There’s no way around that. I’m on the verge of turning 21 and I’m fully expecting legal drinking age to be ushered in with bad knees and

hearing loss. Next February sets the two-year mark since I fully started immersing myself in Philadelphia music – attempting to find my way in a post-graduation world. In January of 2013, I was star-struck by the seemingly endless field of opportunity. I’d found a rare bid of acceptance at Northern Liberties’ Fresh Produce Studios and managed to surround myself with talented musicians, producers, writers and friends. I was audacious enough to believe that my work and my passion had no choice but to eventually reconcile in some huge, finite explosion. Every minimum-wage job I’d clawed my way into over the years while growing up in Willow Grove were raced through with ridiculous optimism and cockiness – I didn’t pray for it to end. I simply knew it would. I would, after college, find a way to do something that I loved every day…and receive a bi-weekly check for it, to boot. You can’t really blame me for that, right? Music and art breed hot-headedness, just like youth and inexperience breed misunderstanding. I expected to be put in my place, to be disappointed and to be corrected by my elders. But I never expected to sit here, in the not-so-distant future, and feel so damn jaded. About one year ago, I took up the mantle of assisting with live sound, show management, booking, web development and just about everything else you could imagine at The Fire, a long-standing venue at the edge of Northern Liberties. I was, and still am, incredibly grateful to find a community of people who were so welcoming to an outsider. It’s rare that anyone is so accepting at the ground floor – they had no reason to assume I’d be any good at, well, anything. The opportunity to prove myself is still something I value to this day. Looking back at it now, it makes perfect sense why I collided so haphazardly with The Fire. I was a young, inexperienced kid in a search for newfound relevancy in Philadelphia music. The venue, far from young, was making a winded effort to maintain the relevancy it found a decade ago.

I’m (slightly) older now, and (slightly) more experienced. I know that deadlines can be tough to meet and that sleep doesn’t come as often as you need and that paying rent has a laughable way of draining your

sense of fun. But I chose - and still choose - to work in the music industry, an industry with a notoriously cold reception to newbies and an even colder reception to people who bitch about their situations. If you’ve ever worked at, played at or even attended a concert at a venue, I’m sure you’ve heard the “grouchy old sound guy” stereotype: works at a dive bar, doesn’t give a shit about the names of the bands playing on any given Wednesday, gives even LESS of a shit about the monitor mixes. I don’t want to be the grouchy old engineer, the grouchy old booking agent, the grouchy old human! I’ve been running as far away from that as I can. My motivation comes from clinging to that archaic idea of having a career that I can be more than competent at, one that I can excel at.

So, I’ve been shouldering that weight, just like every other 20-something who I work with. We press on, making our art in silence and taking our buckets of change to the CoinStar machine. I’m not unique, here. I’m a speck of dust on the un-vacuumed couch cushion of Philadelphia, taking opportunities when they seem available, and most of all, ethical.

When it comes down to it, I’m terrified

of stepping on someone else. I hate the idea that

to advance in a creative field, you have to move upward while someone else moves downward. Most of all, I feel guilty for being unable to do that because it seems like a practice that everyone adopts, eventually. I’ve seen clients who champion their art and I’ve seen clients who champion their checkbook. Bands have been vastly underpaid by venues for their incredible performance and bands have stolen from their hosts. There’s a sense of vigilant protectiveness to every artist, manager and audience member that I both understand and hate. I guess I’m still trying to figure out if it’s possible to be jaded and creative at the same time. Can I really be doing the purest form of creating – selfless, uninhibited, unrestricted creating – if I’m forced to be business-minded? I need to be sly. I need to be profitable. I need to be obscure. I need to be counterintuitive. I need to be constantly looking over my shoulder because if I’m not meeting these requirements, someone else certainly is. I am the grouchy old engineer, the grouchy old booking agent, the grouchy old human. And I’m not very old at all.

stuck Between Jaded and CreativeJake Detwiler moved to Philly, found a music job, played in a few bands, threw house shows and worked with countless musicians in many,

many ways. And he's not even 21 yet. But the music business is weighing him down. He writes about trying to find that right balance for success.

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