For the past two years, The Pilot Light has been a haven for Knoxville bands and music lovers.
by Joe Tarr
It was a Saturday night in the middle of February, and Knoxville was probably the last place people—especially those who live here—would expect to find a kick-ass rock 'n' roll show.
But it was Knoxville of all places, in a smoky little hole-in-the-wall, where Moe Tucker happened to be tearing it up on stage. The former drummer for the Velvet Underground (and a Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Famer) had more grit and energy than any rock band of 20-year-olds. The sold-out crowd was frankly stunned, and afterward flocked the stage to talk to the living legend and get an autograph.
The thing is (and this is the part that might be equally baffling to some New York art snob and a Knoxvillian at home watching Survivor), Tucker was herself stunned—at the audience's enthusiasm and the energy and good feeling buzzing through a Jackson Avenue club called The Pilot Light.
"My band and I, we've toured around America a lot," Tucker says. "That club is in the top two in our opinion. Both places are in the top two because the club owner cares about people coming to the show to hear music and not just drinking beer." (Her other favorite club is the East End in Newark, Delaware.)
If you hang out at The Pilot Light a lot, you know that such nights are not rare. Open for a little more than two years, this small Old City bar has made its mark on Knoxville's music scene. Not only has it provided a much-needed venue for original local music, it's been the most daring of any Knoxville club in the national acts it books. The place stands out in part because it's essentially a non-profit bar dedicated to great music. Owners Jason Boardman and Leigh Shoemaker have never made any money, and the staff works only for tips.
Knoxville has had its share of great, weird and eclectic bars over the years. At various times, Ella Guru's, the Longbranch, the Mercury and Gry-phon's were the place to see a band and hang out. Too often, people appreciated them only after they closed.
As an idea, The Pilot Light was hatched in late 1999. Friends Jason Boardman and Leigh Shoemaker were sitting around lamenting the fact that there just weren't any good places for local bands to play in Knoxville. It was a particularly dry period, as several reliable venues had either closed or stopped booking music. Somehow, the idea came up that they could start their own club.
"We didn't know how realistic it was," Boardman says. "What does it take to get a beer license? What kind of a lease do we need? We didn't know if it was in the realm of possibility."
The two decided to look into it. They found a space available in the Old City.
"We contacted all the inspectors up front and found out what we needed to do," Boardman says. "That put us in good position with the city because they didn't feel like we were trying to go behind their backs. They're not out to stop you—they just want to be included in the process."
"We had heard all these stories about the beer permit is such a difficult thing to obtain," Shoemaker adds. It turns out, that was the easiest thing to get. What wasn't such a cinch was the labor and construction required to meet building and fire codes. They didn't have a lot of money, so they did all they could on their own. Some things required professional contractors. Shoemaker and Boardman (who both have day jobs, working at a bookstore and for a media company, respectively) would do whatever prep work they could— jackhammering up the floor so a plumber could lay the pipe, or putting up conduit so an electrician could string and connect wire. With their own full-time jobs, they and a few friends worked on nights and weekends. "It was so much work," Shoemaker says. "We had to completely gut this place."
They didn't want people to find out a new club was in the works because they weren't sure they could pull it off or how long it would take.
"We didn't have capital and we weren't confident enough that we could borrow the money," Boardman says. "If it didn't work, we wanted to be able to close up and walk away."
But word slowly spread, and a buzz developed. Finally, after a flurry of late night work, The Pilot Light opened in May 2000.
It was pretty much a hit from the start, both with bands and fans hungry for a new hangout. Early on the place got known as a punk club, in part because punk rockers were the first to embrace it. But Boardman cringes at the "punk club" label, because it's too limiting.
The music is pretty damn diverse—including straight-ahead rock, hip hop, electronica, dance, avant garde, old-time, folk and jazz. Boardman does the booking, and he seldom searches bands out. "Since the very beginning, somehow people found out about us, even as we were jackhammering the floor. A few shows we've gone after, but usually people come to us."
The list of bands who have played The Pilot Light is staggering: 90 Day Men, Atombombpocketknife, the Beatings, D.A.M.O. (of Can fame), Flux Information Sciences, Neil Halstead, Kaito, Karate, Party of Helicopters, the Mountain Goats, Lovelife, Mark Olson and Victoria Williams, Enon, Grant Hart (of Hüsker Dü), the Grifters, Oneida, Neptune, Shannon Wright, the Cary Fridley Band, and, well, you can see the complete list yourself at www.thepilotlight.com.
"Not every band we book is someone we'd slap on in our stereo," he says. "We put it in and we listen to it. Even if we don't like it but respect what they're doing, we'll book them. Anything experimental or odd we put at the top of the heap."
Cheshire Agusta, the drummer for the Philadelphia band Stinking Lizaveta, says the club is a special place. "I always have a good time there. I think a large part of that is everybody's completely friendly and the environment's low key. Some places you go have a lot of rules and traffic and bouncers, you never get the feeling you're at home," she says. "Jason's extremely good at giving the impression of being a good host, as opposed to a business guy."
Tucker says The Pilot Light stands out because the owners love music and they help the artists who play there. "When I tour I make posters. Nothing fancy. I send to each place eight or 10, so they can hang them in the window. No big deal. I sent my little shabby poster to this guy, and he made nice posters at his own expense. He did his job—the place was sold out."
"My band and I have very often bemoaned that club owners hire bands but couldn't care less who it is. I don't mean I need special attention, but they don't care about the music," Tucker adds. "This place was great because the owner really cared about the music."
Of course, bands aren't going to get rich playing here. But, Boardman and Shoemaker say they never send an out-of-town band away empty handed. Often, they'll pay out-of-town groups out of their own pocket. (Sometimes, too, local bands will forgo their share of the bill, so the out-of-town group can get more.)
The friendly treatment has given Knoxville a buzz among the indie music and avant garde scenes. Bands looking for gigs are often referred to The Pilot Light by friends.
"I think what a lot of bands find is even if they're surrounded by a crowd of 10 to 15 people, it's a crowd of music lovers. [The audience] is genuinely interested in what they're doing," Boardman says.
"The music business tends to be really ugly and we tend to be very accommodating," Shoemaker says.
Of the staff, four people in particular—Regina Greene, Bill Warden, Jesse Courtney and Cain Blanchard—have been invaluable in keeping the place running. They put in countless hours, working only for tips.
"Everyone working here is basically working as a volunteer," Boardman says. "We won't personally make any money until all our staff is paid well. They have put in a tremendous amount of time. I can't say enough or even think about how to repay them. If someone like that hadn't come along, this place would have died."
The patrons also get high praise from the two owners. Boardman's low-key nature seems infectious. Sometimes, they'll have to throw someone out or ban them for a period. "When we throw someone out it's almost like they sympathize with us," Boardman says. "We go up to 'em and say, 'What are you doing? Do you want there to be trouble here? Don't you like coming down here?'"
Many regulars end up helping out, mopping the floor if a toilet overflows or working the door. "One night I was working the door, some doofus tried to walk out the door with a beer," Shoemaker says. "Five people just came up and stopped him."
Of course, there are lots of things the owners would love to add to the bar, but don't have the cash. And it seems like something is always breaking down. They've got an industrial-size air cleaner, but they need to raise a couple hundred dollars for a filter. (The cigarette smoke can get pretty thick inside—so thick that even Shoemaker has had to limit the time she spends there).
The Pilot Light doesn't look like much. The bar was constructed from the old loft that was torn down. The furniture is old and musty, much of it broken. The decorations—while they have a great charm—are somewhat random. Mostly, they're just little items donated by friends and patrons. But there's a homey charm to the place.
And Knoxville musicians now have a place to showcase their original music. Ironically, Boardman says, it's sometimes easier to find out-of-town groups than local groups to play.
"I feel like going down to UT and recruiting bands. 'Hey, kid, here's a guitar—I'll see you in six months. Hey you, here's a drum machine—you're going to be an electronic musician.'"
After all, as The Pilot Light proves, anyone can do this if they love it enough.
August 8, 2002 * Vol. 12, No. 32
© 2002 Metro Pulse
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