Haven't heard about these Delaware concert venues? That's the point. They're secret.
It's a recent Saturday night in Newark and while Main Street's bars bustling with returning University of Delaware students are in full view, a whole other scene is happening across town totally in secret.
Students and music fans are packed in a steamy basement as four bands from Delaware and Philadelphia plow through loud sets of indie and emo rock.
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It's being held in a totally underground if-you-know-you-know music venue, one of three in this college town where there once were several bars that hosted such events.
But as Newark's original music stages disappeared, DIY thinking has taken over as bands and their fans have created their own makeshift stages in house basements, creating a busy schedule of secret shows that most don't know are happening at all.
And that's just how they like it.
Each spot caters a bit to their own sound and has their own rules, but they are all united in attempting to operate under the radar, out of view from police and town officials.
The Newark scene had even more underground venues before the COVID-19 pandemic hit, which took out five other spots with names such as House of Mouse, The Golden Goat and La Pata Fria, 23-1/2 and Bob Ross.
The death of The Spazzatorium
These types of unofficial venues, most of which host concerts in homes rented by students, are nothing new on campus. They have been happening for decades.
In 2004, Delaware Online/The News Journal wrote about one such spot dubbed The Spazzatorium, which was run by still-active area punk act Endless Mike Jambox.
While the band was fine with the newspaper publishing the band and venue's name, the address was left out. On the morning the article was published, Newark officials were already at their door shutting down the unlicensed club.
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For this article, Delaware Online/The News Journal agreed not to identify the venues, the bands or the people quoted.
'Footloose': Why bands have gone underground
What's different with today's hush-hush scene is that other than a few spots such as Rainbow Records and International Groove Records, which feature live music shows alongside their vinyl displays, there are very few places for original bands to perform in town.
Gone are the days of the East End Cafe and Stone Balloon Tavern and Concert Hall when homegrown talent (and even some national acts) dominated the bar scene.
One line tucked away in Newark's municipal code is mostly to blame. It's found in Section 32-56.4, which focuses on "facilities selling alcoholic beverages for consumption on premises and restaurant patios."
It gives off major "Footloose" vibes and reads, "Live night club or floor show type entertainment defined as electronically amplified musical, dance, cabaret, or comedy performances that may be accompanied by dancing by patrons shall not be permitted, except that one person electronically amplified performances intended as accessory or background music or nonelectronically amplified performances shall be permitted."
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It effectively bans bands in places that sell alcohol across the city, although older spots such as Deer Park Tavern and Klondike Kate's are grandfathered in, allowing for DJ nights and live shows, usually featuring cover acts.
With that all in mind, let us take you inside each of the three stealth stages in town for a taste of what you would find...if you could find them.
Venue No. 1: Gift baskets for neighbors
The first stage we'll profile has been around the longest, dating back to 2015.
Over the years, different students have lived in the house with new roommates taking over the duties of running the venue, which hosts 25-30 shows each year.
"The whole goal is when someone moves out that you get someone to take their place. So the people booking, running sound and running the door to collect money are slightly different just about every year," says one of the organizers, 23.
The house doesn't keep any of the cover charge, which ranges from $10-$15 to see four bands in a basement. Acts play just about any genre from show to show, ranging from emo, screamo, indie rock and hardcore to metal, deathcore, pop and electronic. It's almost always an energetic performance with plenty of dancing.
Usually they land a touring band to headline, which isn't as hard as it sounds with Newark just off I-95 between Philadelphia and Baltimore/Washington, D.C. They fill in the rest of the bill with local and regional acts. The touring acts are mostly East Coast bands, but have included bands from as far as Sweden.
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There's even merchandise for the spot, including t-shirts printed by a fan not involved with the house.
The organizer says most of the people who come are college students or recent graduates, usually ranging from 18 to 26. But there are sometimes older fans who come and are welcomed just like the others. Their method of gatekeeping is the same as the other venues: prospective first-time patrons must message organizers through social media to get the address.
"It's pretty community-driven," says the organizer, noting that masks are still required for shows dating back to the pandemic when there were immunocompromised roommates in the house. "A lot of people appreciate us not only for the music, but as a welcoming community space."
Music fans know not to congregate in front of the house where police could spot them. They also respect the space: no one is punching walls or causing disturbances. Their basement keeps the roar from the bands from flooding their neighborhood and they have not had any issues with upset neighbors.
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"I've tested it and gone outside during shows and you can't hear a lot. The walls are concrete and you're underground, so it's pretty cool," he says, noting shows usually start at 7 p.m. "I think the last time cops came here it was like 2017 when I was in high school."
Each year, they chip in and give gift baskets to their next-door neighbors as a goodwill gesture, whether it be an edible arrangement for one couple or a gift card to the movies for a family with a child.
He remembers going to his first show there six years ago and sees the same reaction at each show in others.
"There's an allure to it, like a mystique," he says. "And, of course, the power of live music, not to be too corny about it."
Venue No. 2: 'A spiritual experience'
The next venue opened only a year ago, hoping to fill the space from other basement stages that did not come back from when the pandemic hit in 2020.
Just like all the others, bands rev up music fans in the basement of a private home. It's also $10-$15 a head here, as well, and doors open at 6 p.m. with the bands starting an hour later. Shows are over by 11 p.m.
A homemade sign with house rules is tucked under the arms of a teddy bear helping guide guests: don't hang out in front of the house, a Brita is in the kitchen for water, only use the upstairs bathroom, smoking is only allowed in the backyard and respect the space. Also, "Safety first: find a housemate for help."
"We've never had anything crazy happen. It's all been good experiences," says one of the housemates who run the shows, a 22-year-old UD senior.
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Their attempt at an outdoor show last year didn't go so well and was broken up, but their basement shows have not drawn scrutiny. And without neighbors on either side of their house, there haven't been any complaints.
As another organizer who lives there mentions: the the house is also located on a busy road. "The traffic kind of drowns it out too," says the 23-year-old, also a UD senior.
Many of the bands come from Philadelphia's own thriving underground music scene with Delaware acts usually opening. Other acts have come from New York, New Jersey, Massachusetts and even Wisconsin. Most are indie rock ― "Nirvana kind of stuff" ― with hyperpop, electronic and even acoustic acts thrown in.
The crowd is, again, a mix of students and non-students. The result is that some of the crowd is pretty tight-knit while others may not know anyone else there. But show by show, they're helping build a scene.
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"None of the bars do anything like this anymore and there are so many good local bands that need places to play," the 22-year-old says. "You'll never run out of bands, but you'll always run out of places for them to play."
They stress inclusivity no matter your race, sexual orientation or gender and see crowds only getting larger month by month. Part of it is attributed to a return to normalcy as fans have moved on from pandemic restrictions.
Recently, the 22-year-old organizer spoke with a first-time visitor who gushed about seeing a live band in such an intimate venue earlier this semester. Remember, some in this generation of college students have only seen DJs perform in person.
"She said she had a spiritual experience and how happy she was to be a part of all this," he says.
Venue No. 3: Inclusivity over elitism
The final venue is the newest, having only been running for less than two months with two shows under their belt.
A 19-year-old UD student is one of the organizers. He has been attending shows at the other underground venues in town for about four years, inspiring him to open his doors to bands and fans.
He authors a zine with band interviews and features with about 50 copies printed, which also promote shows at the secret venues across town.
"It's a great way to get people into the community," he says. In fact, it's such a tight community that all three venues are on a text chain to make sure they don't double-book a night, ensuring each house will get a full crowd.
So far, he's had no issues with neighbors and noise. He has learned from going to shows at other houses that if you keep people from gathering out front, the police will drive right by unless there's a complaint or it's so loud officers can hear it.
The goal of his house is to especially invest in Delaware acts and give them a space to perform. They also go out of their way to promote it as a safe space for queer music fans.
Not only does Newark have fewer stages than it once did, but Wilmington's music scene has been battered with the loss of a couple of its most active original music spaces for local bands in recent years: 1984 and The Jackson Inn. Most area acts now find homes in Newark and Wilmington record shops for their concerts rather than bars.
"The 21-and-over bar scene has collapsed on itself," he says.
With shows run by fans in their own houses, there's less "money-grubbing and elitism," he adds.
"This scene is very inclusive and loving, even more than I've seen in Philadelphia and Baltimore. We have people willing to share their space and it's not about financials or profits," the young music promoter says. "It's a very punk rock ethos. It's all about supporting the scene and it's awesome."
For him, something "just clicked" when he first attended an underground show in Newark five years ago when a punk band exploded in sound five feet from him.
"It makes it all worth the booking, picking dates, hanging string lights and running these shows," he says. "All the inconveniences are worth it when you see that moment for other people."
Have a story idea? Contact Ryan Cormier of Delaware Online/The News Journal at rcormier@delawareonline.com or (302) 324-2863. Follow him on Facebook (@ryancormier) and X (Twitter) (@ryancormier).
This article originally appeared on Delaware News Journal: Hush-hush music venues sprout in Newark as mainstream stages vanish
