Disjecta

Plenty of Plusses and Some Minor Minuses

by Courtney Mumma

Disjecta is an art and music gallery. People live there and generously share the huge open ballroom and common areas with various artists and the public. Disjecta's been around for a long time, but I hadn't been there in a while; in fact, I was planning to attend a show at Million, downstairs from Disjecta, when I found out last minute that they'd moved it upstairs. I was a little disappointed at first, because in the past Disjecta didn't have the best sound. But as soon as the first band started, I was relieved to hear that that is no longer the case. I also noted other small changes, like more of the living areas are blocked off, and they've added new seating.

The shows are usually around five dollars, and they start kind of early (before ten). It's worth it to get there for the first band, though, because sometimes the openers are the surprise stars of the evening.

A major plus about Disjecta is that it's non-smoking inside. I enjoy a good cigarette with my beverage as much as the next girl, but it's a relief to go see bands and not awaken to a hacking cough and my hair and jacket reeking of stale smoke. Another bonus about shows at Disjecta is the attentive, respectful audience. If I pay five bucks to see bands, nothing pisses me off more than drunken loud talkers interrupting my listening experience. Which brings me to my next point, which is that it's also nice that Disjecta has so much space. A show is always better if I'm not getting pushed around by folks who can't make up their minds about their vantage point in the crowd.

When there are plusses, there are inevitably minuses. Here's my disclaimer: The forthcoming downsides may just be my own issues, which I should bring to my therapist's attention. The thing is, I'm usually a little uncomfortable attending shows at Disjecta. Maybe it has to do with the fact that people live there, so I kind of feel like I'm trespassing. Last night, no one was at the door to take my money, and that added to the feeling that I wasn't supposed to be there. Then, when the guy came around to collect our covers, I felt like a jackass that was trying to get away with sneaking into a show.

I know, it's ridiculous, the candles, lumpy old sofas and unsightly grandma lamps create an atmosphere that should make me feel at ease. My fellow attendees' rumpled clothes and tousled hair seem to say they just ripped themselves away from their magnum opus-their whole look screams disinterest. I'm probably having some repressed response having to do with wearing ultra-thick glasses in high school. Any "underground" venue bears an inherent exclusivity that is not necessarily its fault. But unless it's my friend's band who's playing, or I already know somebody there, I kind of feel like maybe everybody there already knows everybody else and they're all wondering who I am and why I'm there. As if I'm intruding on someone else's "scene".

Let me reiterate, I've never seen a bad show at Disjecta. I've seen some bad bands, but almost every time I go, at least one of the bands playing is enjoyable. It's just kind of hard to have fun behind my veil of inferiority.

Disjecta, 116 NE Russell