Editor’s Note: I wrote this blog post nearly a year ago and never published it. I’m really bad at this.

First let’s set the scene:

There was snow pack on the ground in a late afternoon twilight when we pulled to the end of a gravelly road east of Homer, Alaska. It was still early — the bands hadn’t started yet — but already a few dozen dusty locals mingled outside the barn in small groups as temperatures dropped with the daylight.

I was early April, and spring still hadn’t quite sprung in Southcentral Alaska. But inside the barn it was warm with community and potluck. A small merch table was set up in the corner. A basketball goal hing behind the first band’s set up.

Most of these bands I never saw live before, but there are plenty of familiar faces in the crowd and on stage. That’s life in small-town Alaska. They hosted a few shows at “The Barn” before, but this is my first, and honestly all I could do is smile. That’s what the spirit of punk rock is about. No egos, no drama, just a bunch of friends getting together for a good time and some good music.