Thirteen rehearsal spaces
All music-makers have at least one problem in common: finding places to practice together.
The logistics are formidible. And the costs. Noise complaints. Improvised rooms like messy garages amongst the lawnmowers and surplus house paint. Studios in musty basements. Some of us rent practice spaces that are little more than storage lockers. Proper air-conditioning and security are luxuries.
Many bands and music-makers find creative ways to solve this problem. I want to share thirteen rehearsal spaces I’ve experienced in the past 20+ years — all hacks. Each group was amplified and in the rock spectrum — so we played kinda loud sometimes. In reverse chronological order:
13. The Living Room — the drummer’s house in Church Hill, Richmond, Virginia. Four people in a 10'x10' room, we played at 25% of our stage volume and early weekend evenings so we wouldn’t disturb the family and the neighbors too much. This was actually kind of a fun challenge to play quietly and without too much full-on performance. Convenient not moving the drums and amps around.
12. The Musty Basement — utility room at a university building in Budapest, Hungary. Another 10'x10' room, this time with 9 people — including horns. Oh, the smell. Mold, dust, beer, and sweat. Sound bouncing around the bare brick and plaster walls. On the plus side: the location was convenient and the room was fairly accessible — just a few steps from the street.
11. The Secret Lair — an office in an abandoned meat packing plant in Budapest. I had the chance to jam with a Hungarian prog metal band. Getting there I felt like Batman navigating to the Joker’s secret hideout in a derelict industrial park. The room itself was like a club house for metal heads: infused with stale beer, cigarettes, gear, and a significant drum set taking up 25% of the space.
10. The Sauna — spare classroom in the attic of a Methodist church in Richmond. The biggest rehearsal space was also the most challenging. Because the building was in a residential area, we had to seal and soundproof the windows. Without central air, in the summer it would get so hot in the room we would play drenched in sweat until the amps just shut off. Three flights of stairs without an elevator made for vigorous 2am workouts hauling gear after gigs. On the plus side, the place was secure, private and pretty cheap for the size. We were there more than 5 years.
9. The Office — a standard office in a standard office building in Richmond. We were allowed to practice after 9pm when the other businesses were closed. Vibrations from the amps and drums created showers of dust from the ancient drop ceiling tiles, so we taped trash bags to the ceiling to shield us from debris. One night while we were recording a mysterious tenant unplugged an amp that was in the hallway. On the plus side, it didn’t smell like beer and sweat. It smelled like desperation.
8. The Creeps — an insulated server room in a haunted, mostly abandoned furniture factory warehouse in Richmond. This place was so cold, dark and sinister we always went to the bathroom in pairs. A single blue lightbulb in the hallway cast terrible shadows. To get to our room, we had to traverse a long hallway with empty offices on either side filled with trash and phantoms. Our room was completely insulated and soundproof, so no one could hear our screams. It was cheap. And we recorded our demo there.
7. The Actual Rehearsal Space — a warehouse subdivided into rehearsal rooms for many bands on West Broad Street in Richmond. Ample space for a fair price. One problem. You could hear every other band in the building simultaneously while you played in your room. Impossible. We lasted a few weeks.
6. The Stained Glass Factory — an improvised space in a loading dock surrounded by crates of delicate artwork. What could go wrong? Turns out the problem was not inside the building but outside. Located in the popular bar district in Richmond’s Shockoe Bottom, drunken party people would bang on the doors and yell their song requests through the mail slot. It was cheap and convenient. We could sometimes carry our gear to the gig directly.
5. The Band House — the basement in the house the band rented together in Richmond. We would play for hours a day there — totally loosing track of time and space. Magical. When the basement flooded (which happened often) somehow the instruments in the corner were on a dry island. So we built a bridge out of doors and scrap wood to cross the floor to reach our spot. The risk of electrocution was very high. We didn’t care.
4. The Dogs — vacant loft office above a vintage car repair shop in Richmond — guarded by Rottweilers. We never knew when or how we might meet the killer dogs roaming the ground floor, which we had to pass through to get to our space on the top floor. Every time we went to practice we had to carry sticks for self-defense. On the plus side, the place was super private and we never worried about thieves.
3. The College Dorm — a basement storage room, without any soundproofing in Chestertown, Maryland. Every person living in that building could feel the vibrations in the floors and walls. We apologized a lot, especially to the people trying to study and sleep right above us.
2. The Classic Garage — in my family’s house in Huntington, New York. My band in high school played punk rock covers. The garage was a household dumping ground: busted tennis rackets, turpentine, rusty axes and chainsaws, bags of fertilizer, stacks of newspapers, etc. The sound radius was four blocks, so rehearsals were also public performances. The neighbors were patient.
1. The Cub Scout Den — basement in my family’s house in Huntington. The walls painted yellow and in big blue block letters the Cub Scout motto: “DO YOUR BEST”. Where we had once met as little kids learning how to tie knots was now a rock palace. We hung some blankets to give the illusion of a confined space. Playing there felt like a banishment. Every sound bounced through the structure, rattled windows and made any other activity in the house a challenge. Good times.
Fast forward to the present: April 2019.
After years of research, curation, and collaboration Orbital Music Park is open in Richmond, VA.
We built the place we always wished existed: an inclusive and inspiring community space for music collaboration.
Soundproof, comfy, spacious and quirky rehearsal rooms you can book by the hour.
A collection of instruments including some unexpected stuff, like a theremin and even a hurdy-gurdy.
A stage and lounge for spontaneous performances.
And a community of members who believe we can inspire a more peaceful and creative world by encouraging diverse musicians to play together more often.
Where do you practice?
How have you and your bands solved rehearsal space challenges?
What would you want to have in a practice space?
