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1 of 255 DOCUMENTS

Copyright 2006 The Wichita Eagle

All Rights Reserved
The Wichita Eagle (Kansas)

July 23, 2006 Sunday

SECTION: E; Pg. 1

LENGTH: 1257 words

HEADLINE: A hardcore day's night;

Wichita's underground music scene is loud and proud.

BYLINE: JILLIAN COHAN, The Wichita Eagle

BODY:
Editor's note: Wichita has a robust underground music scene, especially in the summer. Eagle reporter Jillian
Cohan recently spent a night exploring it.
The sound powers out the door and into the dusty parking lot. Primal. Carnal. Captivating. The vocals growl and grunt,
like wild pigs rooting through the woods. Behind the vocalist, choppy guitars and thrashing drums.
It's a summer Monday in Wichita. One night of hardcore music.
About a dozen fans lounge in front of the Eagles Lodge on North Broadway, waiting. They call each other "kids,"
though the youngest are about 14, the oldest in their early 20s.
For a $10 cover, they'll thrash their limbs to bands like Light This City and Suicide Silence, stand a few feet from the
stage and forget about their dull summer jobs, their lethargy in the 100--degree heat, their desire to get outta Dodge.
They loll outside, dissecting the virtues of their favorite bands, dropping f--bombs as casually as they flick their
cigarettes.
Profanity and nicotine are the strongest vices on display tonight, whether because some kids are straight--edge ----
embracing a lifestyle without alcohol, drugs, sex, meat or caffeine ---- or because they know the conditions that allow
Wichita's hardcore concerts to flourish: Respect the scene and its architects. Don't start trouble.
The hardcore genre is misunderstood enough as it is, they say. In the past two decades, the music has grown from its
punk--rock roots to embrace metal and give birth to emo.
The kids think adults see violence in their tattoos, piercings and band T--shirts, in the young men ricocheting around
the dance floor like pinballs, punching the air as they dance.
"It's not just people (messing) around with instruments. There's a lot of thought and heart that goes into it," says Tim
Smith, an 18--year--old Wichitan with a scraggly beard.
He sits outside with his friends, talking about subgenres like "grindcore" and dissing the kids who don't take music
seriously. He calls pop--punk "sign--your--permission--slip" music, insinuating that kids who listen to it don't have the
courage to embrace the raw sound he enjoys.
Dusk
Inside, San Francisco's Light This City plays. Some kids push close to the stage, crowding on the cracked linoleum;
others hang back and let the chords fill the dingy cinderblock room.
The bar is empty but for 24--year--old Barrett Robe, a shaggy--haired photographer. He came to shoot a friend's band,
but they canceled.
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"I just recently got into this scene," he says. "I don't remember there being cool shows like this when I was 18."
There weren't. The underground scene that rumbles now grew from a handful of enterprising music lovers like Dan
Davis, of the local band Ricky Fitts, and promoter Jeremy Gould, who runs Paperwings Productions out of his Derby
home.
"He was so frustrated growing up because all the bands he wanted to see were 21 and up," says Gould's wife and
business partner, Amber.
In the summer, their busy season, the Goulds put on hardcore, metal and pop--punk shows every week, for all ages.
Amber works the door tonight while their 5--year--old son scampers around the Eagles Lodge in a Superman outfit.
The kids encourage his antics. They treat him like a junior member of their tribe.
There's a familial feel to the scene, even for outsiders.
"I have to wear a black T--shirt so I don't look like a total narc when I go to these shows," says Travis Crafton, a 31--
year--old father of three from Derby.
"All we really have in common is we like some of the same bands. But I don't get a cold shoulder from them."
There's energy at the shows, he says, but the aggressiveness is only in the music.
Amber sees herself as a stand--in for parents, while Jeremy roams around like a cool older cousin, giving kids the
scoop on hot bands. His 20--year--old helpers, Jared Parsons and Steve Beneke, run errands for the bands.
"I'm not into hardcore, I'm into developing the scene and supporting it so it will grow," Beneke says, tucking shoulder--
length curls behind an ear.
The kids are lucky to hear nationally touring acts like the ones howling tonight, he and Parson say. Some of the bands
have deals with independent labels like Solid State or Victory Records. Others are unsigned but beloved in the cyberworld
of MySpace.com.
The Eagles Lodge and its cross--town counterpart, J.C.' s House of Rock, give these up--and--comers a stage to perform
on before they graduate to club dates and stints on the Warped Tour.
Many of the underground shows used to be at Headway Skate Park, a venue Jeremy prefers because there's more
space, but which needs a cabaret license before it hosts more concerts.
When the Goulds brought the Pennsylvania hardcore group Zao to Headway in June, about 400 kids came. Nearly
1,200 filled the Cotillion in May to hear Underoath, a concert Jeremy counts as their biggest success.
Tonight's show is at the other end of the spectrum. Two bands cancel ---- one has van trouble, the other stopped touring
when one of its members was diagnosed with cancer ---- and no more than 70 kids pay the 10 bucks to get in the door.
Dark
"Those girls came from Columbia, Missouri, to see All Shall Perish and they canceled," Jeremy says, shaking his head
as the girls turn their car South on Broadway.
He's met kids from Colorado, Oklahoma and Nebraska at shows. Touring bands used to choose Lawrence or OK City
over Wichita. Now they book gigs with the Goulds and other small local promoters, adding heft to the healthy local band
scene.
"You tend to look forward to New York and L.A. shows, but this was a pleasant surprise," says Laura Nichol, the 20--
year--old singer for Light This City. Tonight is her band's second appearance in Wichita.
Nichol is tiny, like Natalie Portman. Her vocals are a feral roar.
"Awesome show," a fan calls when she walks by after her set, sipping water from a Styrofoam cup.
It amazes her how far pop music has stretched to embrace extremes, Nichol says. "If I have kids, I have no idea what
they're going to listen to when they're my age. I know my parents couldn't imagine (I'd be playing) melodic death metal."
Outside the lodge, a handful of teenage girls slurp popsicles they've bought from an ice cream truck. They gossip
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A hardcore day's night; Wichita's underground music scene is l

about other girls' outfits, about boys and about bands ---- in that order.
"I was just saying to my friend, 'What did we do before there were shows?' " one says.
"We'd go to the Hyatt and play in the fountain," another replies.
They stay in the parking lot, missing the main act. Around 10 p.m. they pool their money, get hands stamped and go in.
A local band, a last--minute add, is loading in its gear.
"It's Asha," the girls say. These are the guys they know; this is a band they love.
They treat the scene casually, giving little thought to its future.
For the Goulds, every night is a gamble.
A few bands will play without an up--front guarantee, but others need $1,000 or more before they'll perform. Some
nights, Jeremy and Amber break even. But not always.
Kids are fickle, too. Sometimes they have cash to see a show; other times they'll stay home and listen to bands on
MySpace.
"There are 500,000 people in this city, and 499,500 stay home every night and watch videos," Jeremy says. "If we can
get 500 kids at a show, it's good."
Midnight
The music has faded. Bands have packed their gear and pointed their vans toward wherever they'll sleep tonight. Kids
have climbed into old Ford Escorts and rusty pickups, heading to I--Hop or friends' houses to rehash the night.
The lodge sits empty. Tomorrow it will shake and growl again.
Reach Jillian Cohan at 316--268--6524 or jcohan@wichitaeagle.com.

LOAD--DATE: July 23, 2006