After turning 21, it’s easy to forget there’s a world outside the bar. It happened to me and I’ve seen it happen to many others. Once you reach that golden age, you forget about the Friday and Saturday nights spent wandering that party gold mine of Harris Street to Pearl Street.
Instead of house parties, now it’s swapping stories with the other geriatrics about the time you almost got a MIP violation over Pabst Blue Ribbon and a bowl of peanuts. I usually talk about the time when a police officer caught me trying (unsuccessfully) to squeeze through the backyard fence of a party being busted as I tried to make a getaway into the neighbor’s yard. I believe the officer’s exact words were “I wouldn’t do that if I was you.”
After turning 21, I was so thrilled to be able to see music at bars that I neglected all the great performances you don’t need to be of legal age to see. I forgot about the basement shows.
The first of these literally underground shows I ever went to in Eugene was at a place called The Animal Farm. It was a CD release party for a split between two local bands. The downstairs was decorated with Christmas lights (they all invariably are), and the walls were insulated with dumpster-diving finds — old blankets, mattresses and egg carton foam. People watched the bands play while sitting cross-legged on the floor or leaning against the back wall.
It was a simple idea, but it blew my mind. Before that, I had never considered the possibility of music existing completely outside the corporate sphere. From the bands that wrote and played the music, to the people who released the music on their label, to the venue operators who provided a space for all this to transpire, this basement show was a community effort.
Without going into some trite speech about how lame corporations can be, I want to express how great it is not having someone persuading you to buy $25 T-shirts and $4 bottles of water. These venues operate on trust, so there’s no need for security guards to stand around and harass you. The bands aren’t always great, but they are always enthusiastic.
Besides The Animal Farm, other basement venues that once infiltrated the Eugene underground between 2001 and 2003 were The Alamo, The Spot and My House. The Alamo was less strict on its alcohol policies than other places and usually hosted punk or indie bands. The Spot was a fraternity converted to a co-op where rock bands played.
The most ambitious venue with the widest variety of events was probably My House. During its run, the venue hosted several film screenings, art shows and lectures, including David Rees, whose comic strip “Get Your War On” is now syndicated in “Rolling Stone.” Musical acts included The Joggers, The Thermals, All Girl Summer Fun Band, Liarbird and The Intima, as well as a plethora of local bands.
Current all-ages, do-it-yourself venues include The Spoke, at 290 Polk St., which is continuing in the tradition of My House, and Le Sous-sol, located at 375 River Rd., which usually puts on punk and hard-core shows. The Campbell Club and Lorax Manor, found next to each other at 1670 Alder St. and 1648 Alder St., also have been pretty reliable sources for live music.
They’re dark and dirty, and the acoustics are nothing to brag about, but basement venues offer the most intimate format for seeing live music. They epitomize the resourceful D.I.Y. spirit and are genuine expressions of creativity.