I’m writing this from the soundboard at Honky Tonk South, running sound for the Andrew Sovine Trio. I first got to know Andrew when he was doing music supervision for the Judd Apatow movie that just wrapped up filming here. Sitting at this board, surrounded by the hum of amps and the reality of what goes into making a record, it hits me how much the Savannah scene has quietly grown up over the last ten years.

If you had told me a decade ago that we’d have Phish playing the arena, or that rooms like Victory North would regularly host my absolute heroes like Lettuce and Buckethead alongside local heavyweights like Velvet Caravan, I wouldn’t have believed you.

But it’s not just the big names coming through; it’s the people deciding to stay.

A little while ago, Victory North hosted a meeting for the Savannah Music Collective, spearheaded by Mary Armstrong Dugas—who spent years as the tour manager for Widespread Panic. You look around a room like that, and you realize this city is filling up with lifers.  World-class musicians, career solo artists, audio engineers, tour managers, studio owners, venue operators like Brian Goldburg at Victory North. People who aren't treating music as a weekend hobby, but as their actual livelihood. They are clocking in, paying their rent, and building a legitimate, thriving ecosystem right here in the Hostess City.

And as my way of honoring this deeply professional, hard-working musical community... I put on a full tracksuit, strapped on a keytar, and harassed strangers in Starland during First Friday.

Let me explain.

My band, Sporehead, booked a September 4th show at Victory North. It was a massive deal for us, especially since our guitarist, Ian, is moving part-time to Philly. This wasn't just another gig; it was our big hurrah before retreating into the studio for a while.

But as the date crept closer, we hit the classic Savannah hurdle: advance ticket sales. We are a notorious "day-of-show" town. People love to weigh options on the weather, ask friends whats going on that day, or walk up to the door when they hear the bass bumping. That’s great for a spontaneous party, but it’s brutal on the venues and the artists trying to forecast a budget and keep the lights on.

The standard 2026 playbook says you should just throw money at a Meta ad, cross your fingers, and pray the algorithm serves your flyer to the right people.

But algorithms don't build ecosystems. People do.

I missed the days of the street team. I missed the human connection of handing someone a piece of paper and telling them why they need to be in a specific room on a specific night. So, we decided to bypass the AI and the funnels entirely.

I reached out to my partner, Thao, and linked up with her network of local illustrators. We went to Anthony at Pizzeria Press and commissioned actual, digital and physical posters printed on a risograph. Ian hit up our friend Mars to design a custom, hand-drawn logo. We took that art, made stickers, and had another friend hand-tie-dye a batch of t-shirts.

This is the actual arts economy. It’s paying a local printer. It’s commissioning a human illustrator instead of typing prompts into a generator. It's real humans talking to real humans.

So I grabbed those freshly printed Riso flyers, put on the tracksuit, and took to the streets to bring back the street team. Nothing says "too cool for school" quite like a maniac ripping a keytar on a sidewalk.

This city is bursting with incredible people doing the work to make Savannah a world-class music town. But they can't do it alone.

Reach for your dreams, and don't just talk about them. Share your interests. Create community. 

But most importantly: 

Show up to the shows, and buy your tickets in advance.

Support the local printers, the graphic designers, the sound techs, and the bands who are building their lives here.

Let's bring back the street team. I'll see you at the next show. 

(I'll leave the keytar at home. Maybe.)