Standing on a 17-gallon galvanized steel washtub, turned over to expose its now brittle underside, I'm thumping with two fingers a cotton line attached to an eye bolt on the tub, and to a wooden pole that I'm holding with my left hand. Regardless of how far off-key I am at this point in the evening, it makes a damn nice bass sound. 

 

In my small living room, I'm connected to a dozen dear and new friends by beer bottles and cans lined up on the floor like links in a chain. They're each playing one of the following: acoustic guitar, acoustic bass, banjo, banjolin, ukulele, recorder, musical saw, Stylophone, squeeze box and shakers.

 

This is my real-life community. It's artists, lawyers, bartenders, bums, journalists, economists and nurses all trying to add something to a song that only one person in the room actually knows. It's a treat when I get to step away from my laptop long enough to participate in this relaxed sort of hootenanny.

 

But I'm thankful every day when I join my online community here at HearNebraska.org. A member of which, Ian Fleming, grabbed me with a line in a letter he sent to me recently.

 

“We used to jam because there was nothing to do. After a while, we jammed because there was nothing we'd rather do. Small town life teaches dedication and passion for what you do, something we brought with us to Omaha, and still have today.”

 

Responding to a column called “Small Town Sounds” I wrote Jan. 31, Ian describes how growing up in Blair shaped his band, Reggaejunkiejew. It's a great story in itself, which you can and should read below. Another reader, Shaun Vanneman, wrote about relating to my experience growing up in Imperial, except that she even remembers its one traffic light being operational ? not so today.

 

Hearing from Nebraskans like Ian and Shaun who are excited about and proud of the state's music culture has been a great reward for everyone who volunteers their time for HearNebraska.org. We really appreciate all the feedback we've been getting on stories and videos. Please keep it coming ? we promise to continue producing compelling multimedia content that highlights the best of Nebraska's diverse music scene.

 

And we're continuing to put on concerts to expose new audiences to killer bands. We're presenting The Photo Atlas (Denver), Little Brazil (Omaha) and The Vingins (Lincoln) on March 11 at the Zoo Bar; and The Kickback (Chicago) and Her Flyaway Manner (Lincoln) March 13 at Duffy's Tavern. A portion of proceeds from both shows will go directly to Hear Nebraska programs. Any one of those bands alone is worth the $5 admission. Put them on your calendar.

 

On March 24, we're going to be among 35 nonprofits in cities across the country picked to benefit from a fundraiser as part of Twestival 2011. We'll report more details about that event soon. And we're honored to have been chosen.

 

These are all great things. And there's more on the way. 

 

This week, we added a new member to the Hear Nebraska family. John Wenz, whose name you may recognize from his Echoes columns, is our new calendar editor. A media guru whose right hand evolved into a mouse three years ago, John's going to ensure our statewide music calendar is comprehensive and easy to use. Right now, we're really heavy on Lincoln and Omaha events. But we know there's so much more music out there ? we want to hear about what's happening in all of Nebraska's 93 counties. Contact him at johnwenz@hearnebraska.org, or even better, register and post your event yourself.

 

In just less than a month, this digital community has gained almost 500 registered members (we average between 400-650 unique visitors daily), 136 bands and 50 venues. That's a good start, but we want every band and venue in the state to create profiles. And we really want you readers posting your own blogs (rants, interviews, concert reviews, photos, videos), which run on the homepage under “Your News.” 

 

Your willingness to contribute, comment on and share stories, post in the forum and tell people about HearNebraska.org in non-internet land is crucial to making this online community strong. Thanks for your support, and we're looking forward to meeting and hearing from you soon.

 

Here's Ian Fleming's letter in its entirety:

 

I read your article "Small Town Sounds" yesterday, and its contents have been floating around in my head since. Even though my hometown is relatively medium-sized (Blair, pop. 8,000), it really hit home with me because of the role that the music scene played into my personal development. If you don't mind, I'd like to share a story with you.

 

In high school, I was an average, socially awkward teen. I was in the marching band, but my musical taste was basically non-existent. One day, I was on the Internet (Dial-Up, I might add) and stumbled upon Reel Big Fish. As a trombone player, I fell in love, and immediately learned the part to "Sell Out". A few days later, When I was talking about music in class with a guy named Jake (resident "cool, don't-give-a-fuck guitar player guy" of Blair High at the time), I mentioned this to him, and he said "Let's jam tomorrow." I couldn't have been happier..

 

A few months down the road (late 2005), we had a band, and I had friends. On the weekends, we would take turns driving to the Ranch Bowl to check out local/regional bands. Half the time, we didn't know who all was playing. It didn't matter, especially not to me. It was a new, exciting world. I had never been to a concert before that. Every trip to Omaha was the same: Get high, go to a buffet (usually Cici's), go to the Ranch Bowl. But it never got old.

 

We improved quickly, mostly because we had nowhere to go but up. Our drummer only knew one beat entering our first practice, and our bassist had never played.  After cranking out a few songs and writing lyrics on napkins at our local Pizza Hut, we decided we needed a name. We spent an afternoon searching on the back of a bunch of vinyls, and decided on "Reggaejunkiejew" (Ween, Pure Guava, 1992). We didn't know why, the name just seemed to fit the way we were kind of thrown together.

 

We spent our weekends practicing in a garage out by Fort Calhoun. In the winter, it was so cold that we'd have to move and jump around a bunch just to keep the feeling in our feet (to this day, we attribute that to our energetic live shows). We played our first show in the basement of Ozmo's Used CD Store on Main Street. The ceiling was something like 6 feet from the ground, and I had to point my horn down to keep from hitting my head. We sucked, but we were okay with that. Our friends just needed something to listen to, something to move to, a group of guys to watch and be able to say, "Hey, we know them!" I was in heaven.

 

We all moved to Omaha as we graduated (2006-2008), playing small bars and clubs, getting drunk outside in our cars because we were still too young to do it inside. Occasionally we'd land a show at Sokol Underground (or as we used to call it, "The big-time"). Our cult-ish high school fan base who would always follow us wherever we played was still around, but shrinking, dwindling by the month. Our band struggled with alcohol, and went on a six-month break while our guitar player was at a court-ordered "Work Ethic Camp" in McCook.

 

Now it's 2011. We're playing shows we used to fantasize about: Sokol Underground once a month, The Waiting Room every few. Most of our old high school "jew crew" are absent for shows, replaced by new friends, people who have seen us around and enjoyed our music. We all have school, jobs, and various other obligations, so getting together for practice is harder than it used to be. It's not all gloom and doom, though. We're still writing songs, playing a couple shows a month, and trying to find our voice to "speak up and start making connections". We like where Reggaejunkiejew is at, and we like where we're going.

 

But we also like where we come from. Not the town itself, but the bond it forced us to create. We used to jam because there was nothing to do. After a while, we jammed because there was nothing we'd rather do. Small town life teaches dedication and passion for what you do, something we brought with us to Omaha, and still have today. Your article made me think nostalgically about the past, purposefully about the present, and hopefully about the future.

 

Keep doing what you're doing. More people in the music scene could use a mentality like yours. 

 

Check out video of Reggaejunkiejew here.