Beverly Avenue. 9:50 PM. March 28th. The sound of crashing drums streams out through my neighbor’s garage as the nursing student working the doors marks my hand. I proceed through the garage into the smallest basement venue I have ever been in.
“We’re not playing yet, we’re just f****** around,” I hear. Two dozen or so people fill the basement looking eagerly at a group of people, one behind a drum kit, two with stringed instruments, and one with … a saxophone? This wasn’t going to be an ordinary punk show. This was Auric Echoes, a Morgantown band that had long been on my radar but I had yet to check out. I was excited for them– but the real treat would come later in the evening.
Everyone was there. Two friends from U92, my roommate’s former suite mate, what’s-her-face from Stat 211—everyone. The band kicked into full swing. Their jazz punk fusion was complex enough to make me feel smug and superior for listening but raw enough for a mosh pit to form in the cramped basement (though there was no room for two-stepping outside of the corner that I claimed as my own). Good stuff, good fun. Their set ended and a fair chunk of the crowd dispersed, including one of my Moose friends. Thankfully, the friend who first put Auric Echoes on my radar had pulled up, so I would not be alone. Their sax player, it turned out, had added me on Snapchat over spring break and had been feeding me funk music—his face filled with joy when he made the connection.
But the real rock’n’roll experience was only just starting. The next band took the stage (or lack thereof)—Where Wolf. The band had some familiar faces—namely the bass player and guitarist of Morgantown indie rock n rollers The BedHeads (Their singer/other guitarist was in attendance as well. As a result, turnout was legendary and excitement was high, despite it being their first ever show. Where Wolf started doing a Title Fight song (Head In The Ceiling Fan, I think? The excitement clouded my deep emo knowledge), only to cut it short by jumping into their original music. The crowd went wild. The push pit churned as they did a cover of Green Day’s “Coming Clean” (I had to text my friend who listened to over 300,000 minutes of Green Day last year to confirm what song it was). I joined the pit briefly, only to snag my week-old septum piercing on someone’s clothes. The nursing student working the doors assured me it was intact (huge shoutout if you’re reading this!). I returned to the crowd, content to two-step with my friend in the corner. The crowd channeled its inner wolf pack, everyone howling at the top of their lungs. The wolf was where, and the full moon was out. The band played their last song, but the crowd wouldn’t have it. A solid 5 minutes of howling and heckling brought Where Wolf back for an encore, repeating the Title Fight cover and another song from their repertoire before finally bidding us goodnight. With the Where Wolf’s fury over, the crowd slowly dissipated, dissolving into the Morgantown night.