In Dubuque, Iowa, there was not much of a music scene. My town of 65,000 was home to three small, mid-level liberal arts colleges, but, sadly, they primarily produced only frat-boy shenanigans, not a vibrant youth culture. In 7th and 8th grade we started listening to Rancid and Goldfinger, trying to figure out how to get to Chicago for the shows that were so violently absent from our eastern Iowa shores. And local bands would come and go (High School kids can play guitar! Oh my god!), but we had no home, nothing that could withstand the relentless cycle of genesis and destruction that all High School Bands go through. By the time I was a senior in High School, and had started a band of my own, a small scene was starting to crop up, losely centered around Muddy Waters, a coffee shop downtown. Sadly, it was closed shortly after I went to college due to repeated noise violation complaints.