The scene: mid- to late 1970s Charlottesville. Rugby Road to be specific. The fraternity scene, to be even more specific.\nLive music in central Virginia was at its peak during this era. Bands like the Skip Castro Band, and The Casuals featuring Johnny Sportcoat introduced alternative rock 'n' roll to 18-year-olds raised on radio-ready hair bands - think Aerosmith ... on repeat - and events, like the now-defunct Easters, were a mishmash of stellar local bands, up-and-coming national bands and rivers of alcohol. It was an time remembered fondly by University alums and townies alike - before the term "townie" was associated with taboo figures - as a golden era of music in Charlottesville.\nThen what happened? The past three years have seen venues close - Starr Hill, Gravity Lounge, Satellite Ballroom - and bands grow up and leave town, such as Parachute, formerly known as Sparky's Flaw. The quality of local bands has not decreased, yet the overall scene diminished, with fraternities abandoning local bands and students forgoing rock for hip-hop and rap. Thus, stumbling upon a house party featuring three up-and-coming bands Monday night recalled the vim and vigor of the 1970s-era music scene - and grassroots-styled live music, which I thought was a forgotten concept, came to life before my eyes.\nThe bands? Richmond-based In Circles, which was hardcore without wanting to be defined as hardcore, local indie-poppers Drunk Tigers, and Olympia, Wash. indie-rock band Gun Outfit. I went for the local attraction of the Drunk Tigers (Zach Carter on guitar, Matt Bierce on guitar/vocals, Mike Parisi on drums, Dan Sebring on bass), whom I had seen previously at The Twisted Branch Tea Bazaar, where I snagged both a tank top - which I wear proudly - and a CD for an affordable $3. Clearly, they really know how to cater to the poor college student.\nThe Tigers are becoming a bit of a local favorite; the local bloggers at Nailgun Media have raved about the Tigers' energy and enthusiasm during their shows. There also was a feeling of being in-the-know: I am sorta-kinda acquaintances with guitarist Zach Carter (a coworker of a friend) and felt like an insider for even knowing about the party at all (tucked away on Preston Avenue, diagonal from McGrady's Irish Pub).\nThe scene was a far cry from Rugby Road fraternity houses but was incredible nevertheless. Now, I do not like to use the word "hipster," and I'm sure the kids there would not appreciate its use in describing them, so I will avoid the term altogether. But you know the scene: guys with heavy beards, thick-rimmed glasses or both, with skinny cut-offs and tight T-shirts, sipping on PBR and smoking cigarettes. Unfortunately I stood out with my perky, yellow Finch dress and longed to have the oversized T-shirt with visible bra or checkered shirt and clunky shoes, sporting thick, messy hair, that awkward bag strapped across the chest and a lip ring and/or beauty mark ring - you know the one, right above the lip. My friend and I were the only ones with the least visible amount of tattoos - one each, compared to the sleeves, shoulders and chests covered with erratic designs. But there was one fabulous man, with a pink button up, cut-offs, Birkenstocks and long, blue socks totally rocking out two inches away from the bassist. And, of course, people in the know had brought along their earplugs - as the house party was indeed a house party, with the bands jamming a foot away from the audience, and acoustics did not play a factor in any sense of the term.\nThe concert itself was a pleasure, although the house overheated quickly and everyone smelled like sweat. "This song is about beer," Carter yelled into the microphone before breaking into an opening chord. The playlist was a bit on the shorter side, but then again, it was already 11:45, a Monday night - and these guys all have jobs. They busted out my favorites early but kept up the banter and played with such enthusiasm that the crowd cheered and howled with each new offering. The sound was crisp, although new strings on the guitars made for some static on the speakers. The lyrics were a bit muffled because, well, it was a house and the sound quality was not amazing. Yet the camaraderie between the audience and musicians provided a surge of energy that regrettably goes untapped in larger venues, with faceless audiences and stand-offish artists.\nIs live music dead in Charlottesville? Never. But the spirit and punch of the 1970s scene has certainly dimmed. I just like to think that with the Drunk Tigers' house party, maybe a bit of legacy was re-ignited, sparking a new wave of grassroots live shows in a home near you.
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