WAY BACK when I could still count my age in single digits, the best place to dance and listen to music was in the newly paneled, remodeled basement at my parents’ house. As my sister and I spun records on the turntable (or sometimes inserted tapes into an 8-track player), the Bee Gees suggested we should be dancing, and KISS commanded us to rock ’n’ roll all night and party every day. Despite our best attempts, school night bedtimes prevented us from fully living out the rock star lifestyle.
As I grew into my teen years, it became totally uncool (mortifying, really) to continue the basement dance parties at home. And so began my journey into following live music. While I was in high school, I thought it was a big deal to travel from Kokomo to Indy to catch bands at venues like the Arlington and Murat theaters. After I graduated from IU and settled into my first apartment in Broad Ripple, I reveled in the convenience of walking to shows at The Vogue and The Patio. In the years since, my list of favorite local music venues expanded to include the Melody Inn, Hi-Fi, Radio Radio, and White Rabbit Cabaret—all of which made it into this month’s cover feature.
These days, I don’t make it out to concerts nearly as often as I used to, but I’m tempted to buy tickets when I see the following event details: doors at 6, show at 7. (Turns out, those school night bedtimes apply in middle age, too.) Last summer, I hosted a house concert, which meant I didn’t even have to leave the comfort of my living room to enjoy a live set by my favorite performer with an intimate crew of 25 other people. Although I now play music via streaming services on a Bluetooth device, I find myself reliving those childhood dance parties of old in my new-to-me wood-paneled family room. It all comes back around eventually.
