Something to Sing About

Teenage culture is alive and well, not just in the minds of our parents, but in NRS’s very own backyard.

The doors open and a mass of sweat and steam piles out, rising in clouds wafting from what looks to be near a hundred bodies huddled and piled on top of another. The tide sways left, then right, before converging in on itself into the poor few souls (or some would argue lucky) in the middle of the pit. Music blares from amps, set up by parents who now lurk in the back of the rented out office space, dodging the strobe-like lights and the occasional 14 or 17-year-old thrown out of the pit, spilling their drinks. Office Space, Backyard, the Mint, Roxy or Whiskey a Go Go: the venue changes, yet the same faces reemerge from the sweat-stained crowd each time, a loose group of maybe over a hundred people who convene again and again to listen to their friends play and to elbow the ribs of strangers. Demonias, fishnets and spiked pink hair step on the toes of those in Converse and beige Dickies.

Teens mosh to their favorite local bands.

Shows are hosted at a variety of venues across LA.

“I just love going to shows to see people’s talent in making music,” says concert regular Noah Barnett, occasionally referred to as ‘Rat Dude.’ “Music is just such a big part within my life now and seeing people who have the same interests is just really nice to be around. I also thrive off of people’s energy so just seeing people have fun makes me able to enjoy myself more. I have met a lot of amazing people because of these shows and I’m more than grateful that I got to experience this in my life.”

Noah Barrnett, pictured moshing in the pit.

Noah Barrnett, alongside friends Martin and Via.

This collective scene doesn’t just benefit those solely interested in the music though; through this loose and unregulated space for teens, various forms of artistic expression have been tapped into creating an environment of collaboration. Through social media such as Instagram, bands hire and pay visual artists to create posters for upcoming events, while photographers are allowed to photograph shows for their own social medias and portfolios. Merch is often sold at the entrance to venues: a way for the bands to make their own money, and for the fans to represent their favorite local groups. Some go as far as to make and design their own merch for their favorite bands, sometimes garnering the attention of the musicians themselves.

“It’s just being surrounded by so much life at those shows…playing music is just what I love to do and playing for a bunch of people who really bring the energy and I can reciprocate it, it’s a great feeling when were playing with a bunch of energy and we’re getting it back from the crowd. It’s really something…some of these people are going to be lifelong friends and great connections in the music industry long term,” says Swandive drummer Max Bagus who believes these moments will play a defining role in remembering his teenage years. “Oh definitely, and definitely for my hearing too! I can’t imagine what my high school experience would be like if I hadn’t joined Swandive and became a part of the scene… I don’t think the way that it’s (high school culture) presented in media does a good job or represents how vibrant the scene is,” Bagus said.

Show-goers shake hands outside of the venue.

Teens pose for a picture from the pit.

The scene is one that seemingly should’ve been created from the mind of a Hollywood director looking to relive their high school years, or from the mouths of our parents conjuring up stories of past decades in which school children roamed the streets of some small town with nothing else going on, ending up in some field late at night. Instead, only mere miles away from New Roads, a vibrant music scene composed entirely of teenagers is thriving. Bonds are formed within the depths of the pit as strangers lift others up from the floor and search for a lost wallet — all of the party goers united under a mutual enjoyment of local music and a need to release tension in the form of smashing into each other and dancing. No one cares if they’re knocked over, or at least they don’t have time to unless they want to find themselves face up on the floor in a matter of moments. These teens are linked in a shared anonymity, coming from a multitude of backgrounds and high schools, both private and public. Hamilton, New Roads and El Camino convalesce within various different locations across LA every few weeks.

Merch sold by the band Inky Scratches is torn to make a sleeveless shirt.

Stumbling out of the pit, heart bursting and ears ringing from the guitar and bass screaming from the speakers only a few feet away, tongue sticking dry to the roof of the mouth from hours of being tossed around and tossing others around without any water. The sweat drips from a shirt, stepping into the cool night, found reclined on a curb somewhere, the moon shining down while waiting for an Uber back to a friend’s house. Realizing, just as so many others will, that these are the moments to be replayed, some day years later, as if it had all been some movie, or strangely vivid dream. Never feeling alone despite knowing nobody. Thought consumed entirely by the movements of elbows, torsos and legs. The moments some kids will wish they had, only to discover it for themselves, mere miles away.

Teen shows off dollar bills kept in waistband outside of the venue.

Show-goers gather outside the venue.