This was original written by Adam Martin as 4 posts, but we have decided to consolidate it here for your reading enjoyment:

Birmingham Indie Retrospect (1998-2005)

Part One: Slacker 66, The Crush, and Unity 1605 Years: The Segregation of Christian and Secular Music

This is where my journey began as a sophomore in high school. I was also a recently-converted Christian at the time, and was trying to reconcile my love for metal, grunge, and punk with my new conservative belief set. Some older friends of mine told me about shows in Homewood and Roebuck where bands that sounded kind of like the ones I had listened to in middle school were playing, and they offered me rides to the shows. Generally, it took $5-$10 to make one of these shows a reality: $5 for the show itself, and $5 for gas and food [I think my age is beginning to show here; $5 really did pay for both my food and chipping in gas money for my chauffer].

Slacker 66 was a music store/skate supply operating in an industrial park in Homewood. The owner Chad Johnson–who would later form the label Takehold Records, start the Furnace Fest at Sloss, and join Tooth & Nail Records–used this location to put on shows that promoted Christian and secular bands in an effort to unite the local music scene. Bands that performed there included Living Sacrifice, Training for Utopia, and a rap-core band called Luti-Kriss (who would eventually be known as Norma Jean). Zao had also scheduled shows there several times, but wound up canceling every one for various reasons. Smaller bands and local acts also played, but I honestly can’t remember the names of many of them. The first semi-local act to play Slacker 66 that I recall hearing anything about was Withstand FTHC (Flo-Town Hardcore, hailing from Florence). They were also the first band to sign with Takehold.

Once Chad started Takehold Records, he began holding Takehold Mini-Fests at the church he attended, which was located in the same industrial park as Slacker 66. These mini-fests typically featured roughly six bands: two local, and the rest from the label. This was my first memorable exposure to truly local music, as I first began seeing bands like 2 O’Clock Rock (slow, melodic indie rockers who played with their backs to the audience; they later became The Getaway Vehicle, which spawned Old American Dream) and None But Burning (melodic post-hardcore a la boysetsfire; former members are now in bands like Ex-Members of the Holy Trinity and Now I Have a Machine Gun. You may have also seen them in Blue Eyed Boy Mister Death).

At the same time that Slacker 66 was operating, another venue presented Christian music in Roebuck and Tarrant. The Crush operated as a youth ministry through live shows and a radio program on the local Christian music station. I never experienced any shows at the original Tarrant location (dubbed “The Crush Warehouse”); all of my experiences were at the location in Roebuck at the Vineyard church, where my old band Dredge played one of its first shows [shameless self-promotion, anyone? Sigh...those were the days!]. Many acts that played at Slacker 66 also played the Crush; however, the Crush ran as strictly a Christian venue, so all the local bands I saw were Christian. This was also where I saw my first Zao show (during their “Liberate Te Ex Inferis”/Event Horizon concept album era). Along with Dredge (a punk/metalcore–or as some critics called it, “cheesecore”–outfit during this time), other local acts to grace the stage included Last Flight In (an emo group in vein of Texas is the Reason and The White Octave) and Lasting Value (a pop-punk group that just might have out-MxPx’d MxPx).

While these predominantly Christian shows were taking place, another venue had been operating in Birmingham: Unity 1605. I was aware of it in name only because of flyers that got passed out at Slacker 66, but I never managed to see any shows there before its closing. The only band that stands out to me from this venue is Caption, a Birmingham-based hardcore group that originally had Jason Wasserman–one of the club’s founders who later played with None But Burning–as a vocalist. Other ex-members of this group, along with James McCracken from Angels Never Answer, went on to form the death metal band Catchfire.

Part Two: Big Dan’s Fantastic Planet

When Unity 1605 and Slacker 66 closed, Birmingham’s indie underground was in need of a new club to host shows for their up and coming bands. The Tarrant Crush had virtually shut down and even their Roebuck Vineyard shows were on the decline, so the Christian scenesters were also seeking an outlet for their musical energy. The only options were to hope to grab spots on a bill at the Rockin’ Horse in Downtown Birmingham, make shows worth driving to at Barnstormer’s Pizza in Montevallo, or even to secure an opening slot at the 5 Points Music Hall (considered the epicenter of Birmingham’s mainstream alternative music, with help from 107.7 the X (now LIVE 100.5); when 5 Points closed, this location became a nightclub called Banana Joe’s, which has since closed due to violent crime earlier this year). However, the Rockin’ Horse operated as a bar in the front, show in the back, so age was often a factor in deciding whether or not one could attend these shows; meanwhile, Montevallo was 30 miles out from central Birmingham (not the most convenient of drives), and playing 5 Points was a daunting task (not to mention you would be known as a sell-out for getting a gig there). While these three options were pursued with fleeting interest, it was apparent that a new approach was needed. Enter…

Big Dan’s Fantastic Planet: The DIY Ethic

Interestingly, this new approach was nothing more than the Unity 1605 way: unity. The club operated under one guiding principle: DIY (or, do it yourself). Big Dan’s was run by kids, for kids; all proceeds went to pay the touring bands gas and food money to keep them on the road, and pay the rent and utility costs to keep the club open–nothing else. Sound and stage equipment was on a donation-only basis, volunteers took money at the door and ran the sound board, and kids got on the Internet and their cell phones to network with other DIY venues and independent bands to book shows.

Big Dan’s hosted many local acts, including Birmingham metalcore darlings Haste (a Quicksand-inspired Century Media Records act), who broke the venue’s 125-person capacity with over 200 kids who were more than willing to respect each other’s personal space and even listen and mosh/hardcore dance outside. Other locals included None But Burning, Molehill (the legendary leaders of loud, and proud followers of Eyehategod; they played so loud, paint chipped off of the walls while they played), xovertheyearsx (indie/emo group, the members of which would later become .ofmeansandends., a schizo metal/punk band in vein of Blood Brothers), and others from the Slacker 66/Crush/Unity era. Chad Johnson also put on a few Takehold shows there, with acts including Underoath (an up-and-coming Florida band that had evolved from a spastic metalcore outfit to an “unblack” metal act), Narcissus (metalcore from Ohio), Tantrum of the Muse (a unique art-metal group with sounds reminiscent of Today Is the Day), and Few Left Standing (the Memphis king of breakdowns).

These Takehold shows hearkened back to the days of Slacker 66, and rightly so; once again, Christian and secular acts were playing together to mixed audiences. Usually, there was a de facto segregation of the two categories; Christian bands generally played with other Christian bands, guided by the principle of separating themselves from secular acts (a principle which was directly criticized by None But Burning’s song “God and at the Half,” which their singer Jason Wasserman would introduce by saying “This is about Christians who keep their eyes on Heaven while all the world around them is burning”), which left the secular bands to do as they pleased with or without the Christian groups. However, it was made clear from the very beginning that Big Dan’s was a music club, not a church; while the owners and showgoers respected every band’s right to spread their messages while they were on stage, they pushed for all-inclusive shows to represent the Birmingham music scene. Groups like Last Flight In and Dredge bridged the gap and hopped onto shows with secular acts, which resulted in a cameraderie between the bands based not on their philosophies, but instead around the fact that they were all united under the banner of Birmingham independent music.

Unfortunately, Big Dan’s was forced to close when they became unable to afford rent and utility bills. One of the downfalls of DIY indie is that bills are expensive, and indie kids are typically poor. If you charge more than $5 a head for a show, you run the risk of losing attendance based on the ability to afford the charge; at the same time, even at $5 a head, you can only put together so many shows in a month and hope you get enough of a draw to pay the rent. Besides, once again, scenesters aren’t rich; even if Big Dan’s had managed to pull off three amazing shows per week, not everyone could afford the time (scene kids are typically working college or high school students) or money to attend all three. Either way you add it up, the odds were against Big Dan’s, and as a result, the scene lost.

Looking back, I don’t think anyone could have foreseen the amount of heart to go into or come out of that hole in the wall with a giant concrete slump. Whether it was the record attendance Haste show, a scenester Subway employee bringing empty pickle buckets to hold cash donations, or the way the club regarded me after a freak accident involving Tantrum of the Muse, a broken toilet, Underoath merchandise, and a trip to the emergency room, there was a real sense of togetherness that I had not experienced before at a music event. At arena and ampitheatre shows, you feel like everyone there is a single person going to see a show; for me, Big Dan’s Fantastic Planet was the first time that I felt like the show was not about what I took away from it, but what the community put into it.

Part Three: The Boiler Room

In the wake left by the death of Big Dan’s Fantastic Planet, Birmingham’s independent music scene was left once again without a place for its music to flourish. As with the fall of Slacker 66, the remaining options were pretty grim. But, the scene quickly regrouped when Molehill guitarist Drew Reid converted an abandoned downtown church on 2nd Avenue North into a music club and a home, which he dubbed…

The Boiler Room: Independent and Commercial Music United Under One Man’s Roof

Imagine a one-story, one-bedroom, one-bathroom home with an average-sized living room. Now add to that home a sanctuary that measures roughly 1,000 feet in length and 200 in width. This “sanctuary”–a fairly appropriate term, considering the almost ritualistic gathering of scenesters in an effort to save the local scene–constituted the Boiler Room proper, complete with stage, lighting, and sound system. The living room doubled as a sort of green room for bands, where Drew essentially invited them into his home and treated them hospitably with beer and TV. Bands/artists to grace this room–and the stage, of course–included Marky Ramone, members of Black Flag, The Dead Kennedys (sans Jello Biafra), The Misfits (sans Danzig), Vader (Polish death metal; they’re so big in Poland, they made fun of the Boiler Room for its small size as they are used to playing sold out arenas with the likes of Slayer), Origin (Relapse Records brutal death/tech metal; fans would typically gather behind the stage to watch drummer John Longstreth), Soilwork, This Bike is a Pipe Bomb, Piebald, Hot Water Music, Atreyu (before they got REALLY big), Mastodon, The Red Chord, Maharaj, Good Clean Fun, and many, many more.

In spite of these big name acts, The Boiler Room did not lose its down-home sensibility. It also hosted many local acts, including Molehill, None But Burning (fresh from the release of their split EP with Closer Than Kin, with new material on the way that would eventually become “A Love Like Boxing”), Blue Eyed Boy Mister Death, .ofmeansandends., Biscayne (Plate Six runners-up playing grunge/indie rock), Pen-15 (get it? Anyway, pop/punk in vein of Jawbreaker; they would later be renamed Death or El Dona) and their parent band The Original Muscle Men (reunion show).

My most memorable experience with this group of locals was when I first saw Plate Six (“rock and yell” post-punk band comprised of two guitarists–with trading “bass” riffs via Boss Octave effects pedals–and a drummer; think Drive Like Jehu and Hot Snakes with a Southern twang). When I confronted scene guru Trent Thomas (of NBB/BEBMD/30 Pieces of Silver/every Birmingham band at some point or another fame) about whether I would enjoy this show, he told me that if I liked Radiohead, I was sure to enjoy Plate Six. Well, me being a rabid Radiohead fan and all, I got my hopes way up, only to be let down by this group playing angular rock with ridiculous time signatures and yelling “WA HA HOO!!!”. Needless to say, I hated Plate Six the first time around. But I tried them again, and I fell in love immediately. In that respect, it was a bit like how I got into Radiohead; I loathed “Creep” the first few times I heard it, but once “The Bends” came out and I saw the video for “Just”, I was sold. I was equally impressed with their occasional improv alter-ego called Spanish Boat Patrol; singer and guitarist David Hickox introduced songs with the line “This next song hasn’t been written yet.”

Another truly memorable local act is Swami Records‘ darling Dan Sartain (whom Plate Six have played backing band to), a lanky, geeky looking fellow who is eternally stuck in the 1960′s–a perfect mash-up of Desi Arnaz, Elvis Costello, and Buddy Holly playing blues/rockabilly/surf rock. I first caught him in Anniston at a DIY club called Room 213, but it was his Boiler Room show that really got me hooked. With songs like “Panama City”, “Besame Mucho”, and “Walk Among the Cobras”, he had the sizable crowd–which was dwarfed by the size of the venue itself, but formidable nonetheless–dancing and singing along and having an awesome time.

[A final local act note I'd like to add for some personal history (insert self-serving bias here) is my path to becoming a guitarist in Linear High (more on that in a later entry). It all began with Shelbie, a Christian melodic rapcore band fronted by my close friend Ronnie Moore, who also played at The Boiler Room. In my Dredge days, I shared the stage with Ronnie and his group; after Dredge and Shelbie both disbanded, Ronnie and I got together to work on music that went in a new direction. In his words, we were "two sides of the same coin." In the end, we wound up going our separate ways musically without ever forming our own band (though we tried one band practice with former Dredge bassist Billy Lawley on drums; I don't remember if we ever tried to name ourselves, but we were playing heavy experimental indie post-rock). However, Ronnie played a one-off show at The Boiler Room as part of an instrumental improvisational group called Film at Eleven. This is where I first encountered their drummer Guyton Sanders, who had been involved in past Birmingham groups including Audomobil? and later started the electronic shoegaze group Highspire during his time in Pennsylvania. Fast forward about a year, and I was learning songs from a shoegaze band called Linear High after I learned that their guitarist had quit. Eventually, Guyton and I started writing new songs and I continued to play with them for the next three years.]

Sadly, The Boiler Room also ran into financial troubles, and for many of the same reasons as Big Dan’s Fantastic Planet. But rather than rely on a feel-good charity drive, Drew decided to obtain a liquor license and operate The Boiler Room as a bar and venue simultaneously. While this brought a new group of patrons to the club, it greatly hindered Birmingham’s youth from coming to shows. At this point, shows were either all-ages (with no liquor sold) or 18+ (liquor sold). This quickly became a problem, as the approach relied on an honor system in which Drew had to promise not to sell during all-ages shows; since that was not practically enforceable, shows became strictly 18+. However, even the liquor move could not make up for the overall lack of revenue, and as a result, The Boiler Room closed. But this club provided the Birmingham scene with an opportunity to mesh the independent and commercial scenes in a meaningful way, and it marked a time where I became more directly involved with the ideal that I had discovered at Big Dan’s Fantastic Planet.

Part Four: Cave 9

The closing of the Boiler Room seemed another step in the vicious cycle of the Birmingham music scene; each new club that opened seemed fated to close shortly after due to lack of funds or interest. So, when I heard that a new DIY venue was set to open on Magnolia Avenue just east of 5 Points South in the heart of Southside, I figured it was the next in line to follow the others before it. And yet, to this day, that club has remained open, and the support and interest in it have not waned.

Cave 9: “We’ve Got Too Much Heart”

Located next to Alabama Art Supply, Cave 9 is the work of founders Aaron Hamilton and Angelica Hankins, two seasoned scenesters who were anxious to have a place in Birmingham for all ages to enjoy the local independent music scene as they had in their youth. Employing the DIY example set by Unity 1605 and Big Dan’s Fantastic Planet, Aaron and Angelica were joined by many members of the scene who wanted to help create the new setting for Birmingham’s musicians. These volunteers became a permanent part of Cave 9’s crew, which welcomed everyone who came forward to help. Whether it was picking up trash from the sidewalk and street, sweeping the floors inside after a show, taking money at the door and marking hands, or selling bottled water, anyone could participate at Cave 9. Often, those who helped were rewarded with free or discounted entry to these shows, but many were happy to pay full price anyway just to ensure the club stayed afloat. Their slogan, which comes from a Pine Hill Haints song, is “We’ve Got Too Much Heart”; you can see why when you think about how much people put into this place, and in turn to Birmingham.

Cave 9 has hosted countless legendary acts; to name even half of them would be quite a chore (and would probably break the page, much to Chris’s chagrin). But the venue’s legendary status did not come about because of these big name acts; Cave 9 provided a strong backbone for the local music scene and fostered a true variety of acts that had rarely been seen before. Gone were the days of genre self-segregation (in which punk bands played with other punk bands, hardcore bands with other hardcore bands, etc.), and for the first time, Birmingham’s punk-leaning independent scene welcomed and shared the stage with electronic acts, folk bands, hip-hip, and more.

With the new club came a new crop of local acts; among these were The Haunted Stepdaughters (Dead Milkmen-style comedy punk rock), This Day Will Burn (young Christian metalheads paying tribute to Underoath; one of their guitarists would later join Maylene and the Sons of Disaster with former Underoath frontman Dallas Taylor), The Payoff (Seaweed and Afghan Whigs inspired grunge/punk), Gainer (melodic punk/pop), Fratelli (not to be confused with “The Fratellis”; these guys played melodic emo/post-hardcore), Comrade, Capsized (ex-members of Blue Eyed Boy Mister Death and Molehill), The Cleansing Power of Fire (ex-NBB political punk), Burned Over Time, Fire Next Time (ex-members of Dredge playing Botch-style metal), Vesper (melodic indie rock with male-female harmonies), The Ackleys (a sister act + two indie rockers on Cave 9′s label House of Love Records), 900 Dix (a one-man dance party/joke act), Kudante (Aphex Twin-style IDM; a one-man heavy metal laptop show), The Humans (featuring a member of The Polyphonic Spree!), and my own former band Linear High (electro-shoegaze).

Cave 9’s support for the local scene went beyond just playing host to their shows, though; during the second Furnace Fest at Sloss, Cave 9 opened its doors for locals to play since Furnace Fest was requiring local bands to pay a fee in order to play in their own backyard. Originally called “The Fuck Furnace Fest”, “Awesomefest” managed to pull in more than just locals; bands on tour hoping to catch a glimpse of the huge acts at Furnace Fest hopped on to the bill at Awesomefest, and fans from all across the globe packed out Cave 9 to watch our music scene in action.

Another aspect of Cave 9 that set it apart from other venues before it was its commitment to the culture of independent music. It was in this spirit that Cave 9 hosted film screenings, book trades, arts and crafts classes and shows, potluck lunches, punk rock prom night, and even a flea market. A wedding ceremony was even conducted there, in which Sean and Kay Herman were wed by Joey Mansfield (of 900 Dix fame); an amazing vegan wedding cake was served for all of the guests.

A sad chapter came for the club when the IRS pursued them for back-taxes not paid during a period in which Cave 9 was under the impression they were operating as non-profit. The IRS was appeased when Cave 9 filed the appropriate paperwork to become a 501(c)3 non-profit; however, they were still in hot water with the state of Alabama for state taxes. A payment plan has since been put into place, and Cave 9 is still paying back-taxes to the state to keep its doors open. The venue periodically hosts fundraiser shows which predominantly feature local acts that are willing to forgo door money to help keep Cave 9 going.

Recently, the spate of crimes in the area surrounding the venue’s location has led founder Aaron Hamilton to consider moving Cave 9 to a new location. As of right now, it appears that Greencup Books will host Cave 9 in its upstairs portion, which works to the advantage of Cave 9 as it will have the freedom to put on shows any day of the week (they are currently restricted to weekends-only at the Magnolia Avenue address, since Alabama Art Supply uses the space during the week for workshops). This will be Cave 9’s seventh year of operation, and the choice to move rather than close is truly a relief. I believe that Birmingham’s vicious cycle has been broken, and Cave 9 will continue to live on as long as the scene’s heart allows.

P.S. This entry will be the last offical entry in this series. There are some gaps in memory, as well as some shows and bands that I just never saw. Also, there are some venues that were mentioned in passing (e.g. Barnstormer’s Pizza); others worth noting, if only briefly, include The Bomb Shelter (Southside), Safari Cup (Downtown), Friends Coffee Shop (Montevallo), The Commune (Southside home for house shows/parties/vegan potlucks), Room 213/1213 Rock Shows (Anniston DIY club), and more. While these venues supported locals and contributed to the music scene, it is hard to attribute the same historic presence to these places as the ones I’ve mentioned. I feel like my journey fairly accurately describes the major movements from 1998 to 2005, but then, this was never meant to be an objective history; this is how I saw Birmingham’s independent music scene evolve from the time I was first introduced up to the time that I moved out of state. If I’ve left something important to you out of any of these posts, feel free to comment; looking back has been a great opportunity for me to get back to my roots and rediscover some memories and music, so let’s keep this conversation going.