A little fire is lit in the courtyard behind Van Pelt.
On October 18th of this year, Penn Records, the hub of all things music–business at Penn, summoned four Penn–affiliated bands for their first show of the semester, entertained by the Alpha Chi Rho, or "Crows", fraternity house. At ten p.m. sharp, the crowd shuffled in, the noise of scattered chatter interrupted by on–off attempts at karaoke Taylor Swift from the “stage”—a web of wires and amps seated stiffly on a lip of soil. Right now, the group is largely entourage, as groupies speak eagerly in small groups with scattered instrumentalists. They huddle under heat lamps, grab drinks, and await the first performance of the night.
The first ones on are Good Company—a peppy quartet including bassist Alex Howe (C ‘25), and lone keyboardist of the night Amanda (Q) Qu (W ‘27), along with Tommy Kim (Princeton ‘23) on drums. Considering there were still many more people to arrive, the group did a bang–up job setting the mood with their indie–heavy setlist. Lead singer and guitarist Noah Gold (C’ 26) bellowed the manifest, self–deprecating lyrics of “Brooklyn Bridge to Chorus”, “I want new friends, but they don’t want me” followed shortly thereafter by Joy Again's “Looking Out for You”. The night’s inaugural performance was a throwback to primetime indie–forward TikTok music (hey, nobody’s complaining), and by the end of this travel through time, the audience is looser than before.
It’s a good time, and the crowd is encouraged to “let it … linger” by Gold in a simple yet sprightly segue into a cover of The Cranberries’ hit single—cue the cell phone flashlights.
Some might say there’s a correlation between odd band names and quality of music. Now, I’m not so sure that’s true, but title aside, Melatonin Sex Dream (MSD, for short) undoubtedly brought energy to the growing crowd. The group is sonically similar to American Football and Title Fight—that dogged droning of sound that’s gruff, gritty, and distinctly resemblant of midwest emo (spirited rage, whiny vocals, a yearning for nostalgia). It demands you nod your head with its rhythm.
The band’s strengths were its guitarists: Crosby Collins (C ‘27) and Daniel Brennan (Drexel ’27), who—alongside bassist Sam Gray (E ‘27) and Miles Fort (Drexel ‘27)—supplied a gig to remember. A lot of original music left the stage, and nothing was lost on the crowd for lack of singalong—the crashing of sound and Brennan’s lawless leap off the amp delivered the kind of chaos that keeps on giving.
By now, the courtyard is awash with life and sound. Even the unlucky soul marooned in a fourth floor cubby on Van Pelt’s west side was likely subject to the noise—maybe they seethed with jealousy, maybe they prayed for a stray fire alarm. Regardless, the bellowing echo of raw instrumental was an enthusiastic reminder of the joys of collegiate recital and free beer. Live music, an undercurrent of camaraderie, and only mildly freezing temperatures—what more could you ask for?
They’re kinda plant–based, kinda not … nobody really knows what that means. Almost Vegan took to the stage next, opening with the post–grunge anthem for losers everywhere “Creep.” Appropriately so—the night had ripened just enough for 100 young people to scream madly along to lyrics of self–loathing and despair (and not for the last time). It was quite warmhearted, actually, and the group’s subsequent rendition of “While My Guitar Gently Weeps”—including an absolutely killer guitar solo by Avery Bloomberg (W ’25)—may have moved you to tears, given the severity of your Radiohead–induced condition.
The group—whose other members include Alex Howe (C’25) on bass, Greg Kraynak (C ‘25) on acoustic guitar and vocals, and drummer Martin Hu (W ’26)—kept it fun with their choice of music. “What’s New Scooby–Doo?” playfully melted into Declan McKenna’s “Brazil” in what was probably the most inspiring transition in music ever performed within 100 yards of College Hall. A heartfelt rendition of “Kiss Me” by Sixpence None the Richer (charmingly dedicated to Kaynak and Howe’s girlfriends) followed, and the area swelled with the movement of a hundred bodies singing and swaying in a lazy haze.
Maybe it's fate … maybe it's the open bar … maybe it's succeeding a crowd of thirty drunken Crows brothers roaring along to “Hey There Delilah,” but the final performance of the night is always a blast, and KAPACITY—Penn’s premier Korean band—was no exception.
A healthy number of musicians made there way to the courtyard that night, including Daniela Che (C ‘27) and Victoria You (W ‘25) for vocals, Emily Kim (W, N ‘26) on drums, and a plethora of plucked–string players: Eric Sun (C, E ‘27), Jason Lee (W ‘28), Morgan Wiradharma (W ‘28), Alexander Lee (C ‘24), and Eunsoo Shin (E ‘26). The members cycled in and out as the performance continued, the track list for which hailed artists from a combination of genres: Bruno Mars, The Backseat Lovers … “Creep” made its epic return, and was perhaps even more enthusiastically received the second time, if that’s possible.
The crowd, caught up in an undying series of “la la las”, courtesy of MCR’s “Dead!”, was at the apex of its animated fervor. Not a quiet soul in the courtyard, the night died to the tune of “Kilby Girl”—passionately recited by a guest audience member, and emblazoned in the collective memory of everyone present (until the next morning). The energy of the evening lingered as the stage was disassembled, all sonic entertainment ultimately returning to the clumsy karaoke of the night’s beginning. Ashes to ashes, shouts to shadows. The crowd slowly shuffled out, the strain of crashing cymbals still ringing in one's head.
Penn’s own musical scene gives us the concert experience right here in our own backyard. Maybe next time you think about a trip to the Fillmore, consider looking a little closer to home—you won’t even have to pay for an Uber.
