Lee AdcockIn most cases, “DIY” stands for “do it yourself.” But in creative circles, DIY also refers to seeking a path outside of commercial gain or support—and most artists can’t walk that route alone. Elliott Brabant knows the contours of that path within Atlanta all too well, as both a musician (Michael Cera Palin, Symbiote) and as the captain of independent booking unit Blue Shirt Productions.
Now, after five years of helping bands land gigs (and about a week after they’re 22nd birthday), Brabant is throwing an all-day gathering at the Bakery called Blue Fest to showcase several colors of this city’s prismatic art scene. And while this year’s bill doesn’t mix too many crowds, Brabant hopes to transcend cliques and cities to bring more “good art to good people” with each new year.
“I see other DIY scenes constantly bring in bands from other cities… but I don’t see much of that in Atlanta,” they tell me as we sit in the back garden of Joe’s East Atlanta Coffee Shop. “Because DIY will never just be local. That touring band has to come from somewhere.”
The smallest room in the house
As it turns out, Blue Shirt began after Brabant missed an opportunity to help a touring band. Well, and also because they needed something to do in the summer between their junior and senior year. When Ann Arbor-based emo squad Brave Bird announced online they needed more gigs on the East Coast, Brabant poked around on Facebook to see if anyone could offer a date. But they never found any leads. “And I was like, shit, regardless of whether someone helped them or not, I didn’t get to know or support them,” Brabant says. “And so I was like, I could have helped them.”
So, true to the spirit of DIY, Brabant decided they would start booking bands for Atlanta.
“I just made a post that was like, ‘Hey, I book in Atlanta now, if you’re touring down here’ on WAY too many DIY groups,” they explain. “I got a lot from the New Jersey group, which was actually pretty sick.”
And while you’d think local venues would hesitate to take up the bookings of a teenager, Brabant found several patient grown-ups willing to give them a shot. “I’ve had multiple people commend me for being so ambitious at such a young age,” they say. “And I look back sometimes and think, damn, I’ve done some stupid shit with my booking. But you can’t know ’til you know.”
Still, most would forgive Brabant for such mishaps, given the gigs they’ve brought to the community. Blue Shirt booked the first Atlanta shows for the likes of scrappy legends Femignome, emo cruisers Champagne Colored Cars, and psychedelic explorers Pinkest. They’ve also attracted folks from all over the states and beyond to our city, such as when Brabant wrangled a two-piece noise act from Japan called Atomic Whirl and billed them with an indie emo band out of Spokane, Washington.
All this, with the constant reminder that gig-goers treat each other well; any guests that might make others uncomfortable are turned back at the door. “I’ve heard about people saying that if you book a DIY show, it’s going to be full of predators, and it’s going to run horribly late,” Brabant tells me at one point. “Like, nah. You can run a six-band bill out of the smallest room of a house, and it can be done before 11:30. And every person there can be the sweetest person, if you set a tone that positivity is all you’re welcoming.”
Cross-pollination
As for Blue Fest itself, this all-day icebreaker isn’t Brabant’s first rodeo. The first round went down in 2016, back when WonderRoot still hosted shows in their basement and managed to capture an uptick of DIY ambition in the scene. “We were coming down from this phase of every suburban kid holding a house show in their area and starting a band,” Brabant says. And while some of these newcomers pulled off gigs that, to Brabant, looked little more than drunken parties, a few of those kids went on to form beloved bands like Kudzu Kids, Worlds Greatest Dad, and Holders.
But now that Blue Fest has moved to the Bakery (“Atlanta’s biggest blessing,” Brabant extols), they hope to catch a broader cross-section of DIY art. Attendees can look forward to some of their local faves like Feverest, Fuiste, Tears for the Dying, and King of Summer—yet the bill also features some of Brabant’s connections from other cities, like Jail Socks from North Carolina and Florida’s Expert Timing. Plus, artists and other food vendors will get a chance to table their wares, like Hotel Roxy Art, Memorial Vintage, and RADDISH.
“It’s all about cross-pollination,” Brabant says. “Art is that spice of life. And I think that limiting yourself can only work to your detriment.”
Stay excited
Obviously, to pull off a rendezvous of this scale, our host must have their finger on Atlanta’s pulse. We spend a minute to review how the DIY landscape has shifted over the past few years—Mammal Gallery and Eyedrum are still trying to rebound after the collapse of the Broad Street arts district, Herb’s House and Chiropractor are out, Casa Nova has just returned, and Suspira House and Respect Dungeon have moved to spots that are still on trial. Throughout our conversation, Brabant speaks with a sort of casual authority that belies their age, although, as they point out from the start of our chat, “I recognize that I’m still stupid young. People who think that they’re mature and have seen life by this age are morons.”
Still, Brabant has seen some things. So when I ask them about what Atlanta’s scene needs to rebound from our current limbo, they reply at once: “Everyone needs to get to the gig. Find a gig that you want to get to, and get to it like it’s your last gig.”
Turns out, Brabant also sees DIY as a symbiotic relationship, where supporters are just as vital to the scene’s wellbeing as the artists, promoters, and bookers who maintain it. (We both agreed that the term “consumers” doesn’t fit for the ideal music fan—after all, that harkens back to the capitalist system that DIY communities usually want to circumvent.) Brabant urges active listeners to search Bandcamp every now and then with the Atlanta hashtag, poke around in unfamiliar genres, and look around for other types of local art to boost.
“Support visual artists and graphic designers. [If] you see someone making flyers, follow their Instagram,” Brabant advises. “It would be sick if people started to [think], what if we hosted a small art gallery at someone’s house? Or what if someone just got some friends together and wrote a musical? I would love to see that.”
Of course, DIY still means “do it yourself,” and artists still have to commit to their craft before folks like Brabant can boost their profile. “It is a means of creation that is very strenuous, so I can’t blame anyone for needing to step out,” they admit. “But it’s still a bummer, because it’s like, hey, the whole point of this is so that it can be easier to support you.”
According to Brabant, local bands need to challenge themselves more, and aspire for more than just another gig for all their pals. “I think that’s the thing that is turning a lot of people away, that [musicians] aren’t as excited as they used to be.” Granted, some folks have definitely cranked up the heat lately; Brabant pointed to Pinkest, Identikit, and the Boygirlfriends as examples of how to push the bar and excite the fan base.
Still, even on overdrive, a performer or a band can only push so far. And so, with gigs like Blue Fest, Brabant hopes that they can help artists help themselves with just as much fervor. “[Just] caring will get you nowhere,” they insist. “It is being unapologetically passionate that will always reward you. Fuck looking cool—I wanna be excited.”
Blue Fest goes down Fri., May 24 at the Bakery. Doors are at 2 p.m. Admission is $10-15. All ages.
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Facebook: @BlueShirtProductions