"Nebraska Music and Its People Changed My Life"

When I was a wee lass of 19, fresh on the heels of my decision to tough it out in Lincoln after a turbulent first year at UNL, I went to my first local concert.

It was at Duffy’s, fittingly, the same place where I would later spend three and a half wonderful years as a waitress and bartender. But back then, I was a naïve, wide-eyed minor soaking it all in … back then, the stage was still in front of the window to O Street, and heavy drapes the color of dark red wine still separated the band room from the bar. Back then, there was no firepit in the beer garden.

Jeremy Buckley, a new friend and colleague from the Daily Nebraskan, stood next to me. We’d recently exchanged mix CDs, and apparently mine passed his muster, because here we were, waiting for the music to start.

After Bright Calm Blue and Robot, Creep Closer! played their sets, I turned to Jeremy and thanked him for inviting me. He gave me a befuddled look.

“Are you going home?”

It was maybe midnight.

“I have class early in the morning, so I have to get to bed,” I explained cheerfully, tugging my hat down over my ears and slipping my hands into my gloves. “See you soon!”

That robust sense of duty toward my studies at the expense of local music drastically unraveled as I became ever more immersed in the Nebraska scene … and looking back, I have to laugh at the fact that I had no qualms about using a *ahem* not-quite-legal ID to get into bars yet insisted on a good night’s sleep.

Because I had no idea what I was doing.

“Things will be different / I’ll be someone else.” — Universe Contest

Back in my hometown of Milwaukee, I’d been an avid concertgoer. A jar on the desk in my childhood bedroom was stuffed with hundreds of ticket stubs from concerts. Music was a major part of my life in high school, but when I moved to college, that awareness of where to go, who’s worth seeing locally, the network of friends to attend shows with, suddenly all that collected knowledge was rendered functionally obsolete. I was starting over.

And, in all sincerity, without an organization like Hear Nebraska, it wasn’t easy for an outsider to break in. I wasn’t sure where to turn, and felt trapped in the college culture.

“Lincoln, Nebraska, I could use a friend right now.” — Kill County

Enter Jeremy, one of the best things to happen to me in Lincoln. After that first local show, everything seemed to happen really quickly. I started writing about music for the Lincoln Journal Star and the Daily Nebraskan, and hosted three different shows on KRNU, including the first radio incarnation of X-Rated: Women in Music.

(I was probably the only person to ever play Erasure on KRNU, as well, but that’s another story. #sorrynotsorry.)

My connections to and love for the scene continued to strengthen and grow, and I started looking for more ways to contribute. I focused on playing more local music at KRNU, and I made it a key component of coverage at the DN as the arts editor. I started booking my own shows, including an X-Rated showcase for Lincoln Calling last year. I scored a bartending position at Box Awesome, and then a few years later, at Duffy’s, and met so many amazing people during my stints there — musicians, sound engineers, promoters, fellow fans. The view from behind the bar at Duffy’s, looking through the brick archway at the dimly lit corner stage, is permanently imprinted in my memory.

Nebraska music and its people changed my life, and kept me happily living in Lincoln for almost a decade, minus a few sojourns here and there. It’s crazy to think I’d been there that long, when after my first nine months, I was very seriously considering moving. Coming from Milwaukee, I felt there just wasn’t enough to do; it just wasn’t the right crowd for me.

How wrong I was.

“The days go on forever, reaching forward, not looking back / Synchronicity, I get the feeling, completely / Falling, falling without knowing.” — Tilly and the Wall

Now, when friends ask to swap music, or ask what I’m listening to, Lincoln and Omaha bands are among the first to come to mind: The Betties. Universe Contest. All Young Girls Are Machine Guns. Hers. The Mynabirds. It’s True. Meaner Pencil. Masses. Josh Hoyer and the Shadowboxers. Amy Schmidt. The Better Beatles. Machete Archive. Eli Mardock. Howard. Icky Blossoms. Low Horse. Manny Coon. Millions of Boys. Black Cohosh. Neva Dinova. McCarthy Trenching. UUVVWWZ.

The list goes on and on and on.

I moved to Lincoln in late summer 2004 and moved away in late fall 2013; I drove away half a dozen times in that period, but always with the intention of returning to Nebraska in three months, six months, a year.

Not so this time.

The last time I moved away from Lincoln, I spent one of my remaining nights in town at ‘80s Night at the Bricktop (now Mix Barcade), and the last song Rik Minnick played that night was “Major Tom” by Peter Schilling because I’d requested it so many times before. (“Earth below us/drifting, falling/floating, weightless/coming home.”)

Two weeks ago, I spent one of my last nights in town at Old Pub Soul Club, and this time, Rik dedicated “I Can’t Break Away” by Irma Thomas to me — another I’d oft-requested. (“I can’t break away / No, I can’t say goodbye / I can’t break away / Though you make me cry / I’ll never ever break away from you.”)

No matter how far I travel or what exotic places I temporarily call home (Amarillo, anyone?) I can’t fully break away … nor would I ever want to.

I fell in love with Lincoln through music, and though my address may change, the music will always be with me.

Which means a part of Nebraska will always be with me, too. And I wouldn’t trade that for anything.

Thank you to Jeremy; the Duffy’s and Box crews; Jenna Johnson for encouraging me to join the DN; Rick Alloway for giving me a chance at KRNU and Josh Espich for giving X-Rated a home at KZUM, as well as Shannon Claire for adopting it when I left; my beautiful, funny, crazy Nightgirls; Marypat Heineman and Lee Heerten for dancing the night away with me on many breathless evenings; Natasha Richardson for being my go-to concert buddy in college; and Andy and Angie Norman for being loyal friends and for bringing me into HN at the very beginning.

I already miss you all.