The Tides of Change

Transforming the DIY music scene—on their own terms, this time

 Carina Dieringer

Griffin Baumann stood in the sound booth and watched as a crowd of excited concert goers crashed sweaty bodies against each other in the intricate collective experience of the mosh pit. He sported a pink bandana and was armed with a brand new pager for emergencies. 

As the facilitator of Pink Place, a local DIY (Do-It-Yourself—a fundamental of punk ethos) backyard music venue in Minneapolis, much of his time and energy over the past two years had been spent booking shows, building community, and ensuring the safety of everyone who walked into his backyard. All for moments like this one—getting to watch people enjoy the space he created. 

Yet with only three shows left before the venue reached its natural ending, a cease and desist order from Millenium Management, Baumann’s landlord, threatened everything he and his roommates had built. 

In a last ditch effort to restore the ownership of Pink Place to the hands of the community, the hosts created a petition to gauge support for the venue. 

“There was a point where I was like, if this is the last thing we do and we just get the support and then we figure out places to host these last shows and they still happen, that won’t be the worst end,” Baumann said. 

Soon, Pink Place’s Instagram page flooded with notifications: neighbors and community members shared their disappointment at the news, their positive experiences with the venue, and the petition itself. 1,345 signatures in just two days. 

“The cease and desist kind of like pulled me out of reality for a little bit, and I had a moment where I finally did allow myself to cry about the fact that we thought we were done,” Baumann said. “And then I did also cry again when I saw the support that came out, … it was such a beautiful thing to see.” 

To the surprise of the hosts, the petition succeeded. The venue’s last shows—headlined by locally beloved musician Anita Velveeta—continued largely as originally planned.

Como Backdoor, another staple of the local DIY scene, wasn’t so lucky. A 30 day notice to vacate was sent to tenant Iris Bolton just one week after the cease and desist at Pink Place. 

“Como’s been around as a venue for like I think over a decade,” Ginger Kostelecky, vocalist and guitarist for Twin Cities based band Agora Bomb said. “It just kind of felt like an unstoppable [force].”

The loss of Como Backdoor in early July came as a shock to many. Venues like Como that have built a name for themselves often pull in a consistent audience, no matter who is on the bill—which is essential for emerging bands to gain traction in the scene. 

Even bands who have a dedicated audience struggle with consistent attendance at official venues due to age limits and entry fees. This inaccessibility of traditional venues is what fuels the DIY scene, but also puts so much at stake when DIY venues cannot go out on their own terms. Bands, vendors, and others in the scene do not have time to divert audiences and bookings elsewhere. 

New venues will inevitably pop up, but they may have to be more careful than their predecessors. Kostelecky said that venues may have to revert to a more traditional approach when informing people about their shows. She emphasized keeping knowledge of locations and dates out of public view so that “no one outside of the community that is trying to like, you know, f— with us, knows about the shows.” Before social media, most punks found out about local shows through word of mouth.

“With social media, you kind of make an underground thing possibly a little too public,” said Baumann, who cited Pink Place’s Instagram page as part of the reason behind the cease and desist. “There’s ways you can modernize the word of mouth, but still not have it as public as a post, and I think there’s a lot of validity to that approach.” 

However, there are concerns that come with this return to “ask a punk” methods. 

“There’s still a lot of spaces that are super white, and I can definitely see spaces becoming more segregated,” Nen Ramirez, keyboardist and poet for local band Virginia’s Basement said. “It can be done, I think that it would just take a lot of intentionality and conscious effort and work as a community to make sure that it doesn't go that way.” 

Members of the scene are worried that pushback from landlords may become more prevalent, but confident that it will not prevent the DIY music scene from continuing to flourish—it’s nothing that hasn’t been seen before. The community has always been changing: Venues come and go, audiences have become more diverse, and the scene’s roots in midwest emo (pioneered by Remo Drive) have branched into a variety of different genres. 

Change is inevitable, and often, necessary. 

St. Paul based emo outfit Virginia’s Basement (named for one of their first venues and practice spaces: vocalist and guitar player Santana “Santi” Vigil’s mom’s basement) has been pushing for change in the community since their emergence in the scene over three years ago. 

When first entering the DIY scene, Vigil felt alone. $10 in hand, they used to hop on the bus ($2.50), make the two hour journey from St. Paul to Dinkytown, go to a show, buy a shirt from the merch stand ($5–if they were lucky) and then bus back ($2.50). 

No one greeted him at shows. No one sparked a conversation. They didn’t make any friends. DIY spaces in Minneapolis attracted a very white audience, leaving people of color in the scene feeling bullied and out of place.

“Damn, there’s so many hood rats at this show,” Ramirez recalled overhearing at a house show once. They couldn’t say anything. No one wants to be “that” person. But glowers from hosts, cold responses from concert goers, and racist comments made it clear: Ramirez and Vigil were not welcome in a scene meant to embrace outsiders. 

As new venues begin to appear in the aftermath of Como Backdoor and Pink Place, Vigil and Ramirez want to see antiracism emphasized in the way spaces are run. 

“Break the ice,” Vigil said as advice to future venue owners. “Say hello to every single person, know their name! Even if you’re going to forget it, remember at least for that moment.” Ramirez added that intentionally building bills featuring POC bands is essential for white-owned venues to create a welcoming space.  

Safety is another one of the most important aspects of an inclusive house venue.

 “[Como Backdoor] did a great job of letting it be known that there was no b—---- tolerated, and that made me feel safe,” Ramirez said. At Pink Place, older punks in the scene found the venue to be much safer than the shows they had been to throughout their lives, something Baumann worked hard to achieve. 

Despite issues that need to be improved within the scene, Vigil emphasized that the community is full of a love that only continues to grow. “People have each other's backs and we hold each other accountable, … there is that community.”

Who will continue the legacy of Pink Place and Como Backdoor? It’s up to the kids who go to shows with their last $10 in their pocket, the music enthusiasts who want to build a place of joy, the punks who want to see the safety of POC and queer people prioritized, the outcasts who want everyone to feel welcomed. Without any of them, the scene doesn’t run. 

Do it yourself doesn’t mean do it alone—it means do it without reliance on the systems we are taught that we cannot live without.