Read on to find out how to help Ibrahim, Raeqa, Haneen, Nada, and Nour find safety and comfort amidst the genocide in Gaza.
It may be a shock, but no cops are allowed at the Pig Pen. Deep in the crevices of Cleveland — aka, the basement of a modest single-level home — lies the newest of the various “ask-a-punk”-type venues in Northeast Ohio. I know Pig Pen as a house venue for punk and hardcore shows, so I was pleasantly surprised to see a folk lineup. Plus, it was a benefit show, one including kentcore alum Girl in the Shade on the lineup: this gig was practically made for me.
I had low expectations going in. I’ve had some pretty shitty experiences feeling safe at house venues, and I fully planned on donating at the door, taking pictures for two or three sets, and dipping. But this time, they checked my ID at the door and gave me a run-down of the house and its rules. Before I even walked inside, it was a different vibe, and I could tell I was somewhere where I was safe and respected.
The action is found through the door, down the stairs, and past the washer and dryer. The stage was nothing more than a basement corner soundproofed with foam play mats, with resident amps and a house drum kit. Everyone seemed at home, with some showgoers even watching the show from the couch in the back of the room. Up first is Zaq and Cam: A duo of a banjo and a melodica, slinging songs about fellow anarchists, mental health, and the community of musicians they’re part of; they are the epitome of Cleveland folk punk. Zaq and Cam helped put the show together, choosing the lineup and spearheading the fundraising effort.
The political commentary continued throughout the night. Weird Sister was up next, consisting of only one member. They told a more narrative tale, but mixed it up with a cover, saying “I know what’s happening right now in Palestine is a lot different from what’s happening in Vietnam… but I think [Prisoners by John Denver] is still relevant. People think about political prisoners as only being soldiers, and don’t think about people who are prisoners in their own home, like the people of Gaza,” Cole Tarantowski, sole member of Weird Sister, said.
People going to benefit shows like this are ready to talk about what’s happening on the other side of the world, but concertgoers don’t leave without thinking about what’s going on at home, too. I was a little surprised when We are Pirates name dropped Kent State in their song Body, Scott McMaster is singing about the time in 2018 they watched a protester brutalized and dragged away by the police for protesting against the white supremacist gun walk on Kent State’s own campus. “The theme of [Body] is sort of supposed to be about documentation of fucked up events, and it’s interesting, I guess, that we’re watching shit happen in real time and people still don’t know how to react to it,” McMaster said. “Like, I think that disconnect with the emotional sense of shit definitely benefits people in power to keep on being able to do what they want to do.” I’m a little embarrassed to admit: I didn’t know about this event. The gun walk occurred before my time as a student, and as much as I try to keep up with my community, it’s easy to disregard this kind of violence as something that “doesn’t happen here”.
Similarly, reading about Palestine online, it’s easy to regard it as a far-away cause. But as McMaster says in Body, “The illusion was busted when the police they once trusted / bashed your face in and dragged your body away.’ McMaster tells listeners that the people excusing and perpetuating and supporting this violence are in listeners’ backyard and on their college campus. Their classmates, neighbors, friends. This fight isn’t removed from them.
When Girl in the Shade screams about the genocide in Gaza, the “Seventy-thousand tonnes of bombs from the sky / that’s more than Dresden, Hamburg, and London combined / in only six months time / and a fifth of the size”, listeners are transported. The only place that matters is this basement and the only people that exist are the thirty-odd people crammed inside. Her lyrics effortlessly weave between poetic and factual, and at points just screaming statistics, almost entirely forgetting her guitar: but listeners are transported. When she finished her new song, Hydra’s Head, this chatty basement full of friends was dead silent. Attendees have no choice but to be sobered by the facts, and knowing that this genocide across the world is happening and there is little they can do other than scream and scream and scream.
But there was joy, too. In a home full of friends who have known each other for years, there’s bound to be. Valentine Vandal performed aching songs about parents disowning their transgender children, but followed it with a song about animals and the environment, a song they sing to their elementary-aged music students. This dichotomy is the point of nights like this: to feel the pain, to know there is a death machine grinding its gears that everyone there is helpless to stop, but to look around and know that everyone around is feeling it too. Everyone who is feeling this ache wants to do something about it.
House of Wills closed out the night, a bonafide staple in the Cleveland folk community. The whole crowd sang along to her songs about travel, loss and the Shittiest Towns in Ohio. Concertgoers would have to go to a lot of shows to memorize the lyrics like this, so when people sing along to local acts like this, it makes you appreciate the community that surrounds you.
Through door donations and merchandise sales, Pig Pen and friends raised $400 to support the families affected by the genocide to be able to afford food and basic needs. For a room of thirty-some people, this is no small potatoes.
Even if you can’t make it to events like these, you still have the power to help people in Gaza. If you would like to support these families as well, check out the links below.
