Inside Minneapolis, all-age opportunities are popping up, too. The Babylon Café and a new teen center called Twin Cities Underground, both on Lake Street, offer their stages to teen bands, MCs, and spoken-word artists. And on 26th and Stevens, the Fallout is gaining momentum. Source, a faith-based group that runs the Fallout, has renovated the storefront to accommodate live bands, art openings, community meals, and alternative Bible studies.
Afternoon Records has thrived in this alternative universe, yet Anderson is savvy enough to imagine what comes after it. "I've been playing bars since I was 16 years old," he says. "It's not as cool to play a bar as it is to play with all your friends there, because usually there's only a couple of people watching us. But that's what you have to do. I'll probably stop complaining about it once I'm 21."
Teenage fanclub: Michael Sandstedt (left) and Ian Anderson of Afternoon Records
The following Monday, October 6, Lookdown prepares to enter Evening Studios, but their plans are foiled when Matt Sandstedt, Michael's younger brother and bassist in Aneuretical, accidentally spills a glass of water on the studio's digital soundboard. With a heavy sigh, Michael remains optimistic.
"We'll probably be able to get a new one by next week," he says. "It was an expensive mistake, but we'll survive."
Meanwhile, Anderson and the rest of Aneuretical are making their way to the Red Sea Bar, where Paster has gotten them a slot opening for the Bloody Turncoats. The audience consists mostly of members of the other bands on the bill, but Anderson, Sandstedt, and Paster put on game faces--a professional stoicism betrayed only by their boyish smiles and overtly high school lyrics ("I just wanted you to like me"). Their set goes well, the thin crowd responding with appropriate claps and hollers.
Afterward, Anderson is disappointed but confident.
"It would have been nice for our friends to be here," he says. "But that's how bar shows go."
He packs his guitar, ready for the ride back to Northfield. "A gig's a gig," he says with a shrug.