by William Smythe
When I was young, I used to be punk. I attended house shows at places in Memphis like Mosaic and Court. They are certainly closed down by now. Then came a few basement shows in my college town—places of escape where I could let loose and be wild, be weird. So when my friend Alyssa asks me if I’d like to go to HavenHaus, I jump at the chance. I know the proprietor, Jay Opp, anyway.
Opp and I met through a meme page for the rock band The Mountain Goats, but soon realized we both lived in the same city. We quickly formed a friendship, going to local shows at venues like Lamplighter, Murphy’s, or—rest in peace—P&H Café. The fact that Opp has opened their own music venue, albeit in their house, does not and will not surprise me in the slightest. Plus, I love their taste in music.
After Alyssa and I park, we follow the tiny sounds of equipment being tested. It leads us to a semi-dark cul-de-sac populated by DIY fashionistas and scraggly-looking college kids. It’s truly a nostalgia trip. I was just like these kids years ago. I don’t recall my fashion, but I know I don’t look the part anymore. Not like I care if I do (which is the punkest way of all, in my humble opinion).
The bands are mostly out-of-town acts: Shuteye, Speaker Girl, and More Weight. A throb of bass fills the living room and house. Looking closely, this is the most diverse group I’ve ever seen. A buff soldier of a man wiggles his way through the amps. There’s a boy in a dress held up by safety pins, sporting a shock of pink curly hair. Two girls hold hands, wearing matching nose rings and hand tattoos. I love how, in places like these, everyone’s welcome—just as long as they can join the throng and sing along with everyone else.
Eventually, Opp and co-owner Ben Reese moved operations to Cooper-Young and retooled the venue as WareHaus. It was in a garage near Young Avenue Sound. It lasted a good few months or so, until logistical issues necessitated a larger space. So, the two decided to take over the old 5 Spot space at 84 E. G.E. Patterson, sandwiched between the Malco Powerhouse and Earnestine & Hazel’s. It’s in the shade of the train’s overpass where I meet them to discuss the highs and lows of owning a queer-friendly punk venue.
As I walk inside, I enter a vestibule with couches on one side and a table at the other. “We’re thinking this can be a lounge area,” Reese tells me as we wait for Opp to return from an errand. Ironically, in the stage area just a door away, a Nashville band named Innerview tests out the equipment for their show tonight, softly serenading this interview.
“I’d love to put in an arcade cabinet,” Reese continues. “Or, more idealistically, a gaming system—something for folks to do as they wait for the bands to start. I’d love to provide a lounge vibe.” On that note, Opp comes in, cracking jokes. It almost distracts me from the task at hand, but I don’t mind. It provides a welcoming presence in the empty space. Opp walks in and follows up on that aesthetic. “Honey,” they say, “I’m home.”
To begin, I ask why they decided to create this venue. “Well,” Opp says, “it really started with my partner at the time wanting to make a house venue. As we booked bands, though, I remembered how important music spaces were to me when I was a kid—the comfort they brought. So I kept the venue going, even though my relationship with her didn’t.” Reese, a transplant from Pittsburgh, attests that he joined Opp on this mission because he found similar camaraderie in local music scenes. “Everywhere I lived,” he continues—“Atlanta, D.C., Pittsburgh—all these cities had great music spaces, and Memphis follows that same recipe. So, of course I’d love to foster the future of music here, in any shape it comes in.”
Both agree that the future is, for sure, queer. “Bands like Suroor, Wind0w, Gooetones, Celshade—the list goes on! Noel Lockhart’s new band Divergent headlining Pride. And then, on July 11th, we have queer folk band Ten Dirty Fingers playing here. They’re bringing DIY HRT too.” Other queer acts have found a home in HavenHaus. Folks like Felicity Fox, Sairen Strange, and Faline grace the stage in drag and burlesque—fiercely. “DIY,” Opp reminds me, “comes out of queer history anyway. We wouldn’t have the punk movement without our queer siblings. When the world doesn’t provide a safe space, you have to make your own.”
Both agree that providing a safe space has its limits, though. “You have to be tough on abuse and unwelcome presences if you want to make a space like ours,” Opp says, sighing. “It’s emotionally taxing,” Reese affirms, “but absolutely worth it.”
On a lighter note, I ask them if there are any music acts they’ve especially enjoyed hosting. “Oh, a ton!” Opp recalls. “One night at the first HavenHaus, this band Frail Body crashed for the night. Mournful music, but sweet people.” They also mention bands like Apes of the State and Feeble Little Horse. “But of course,” Reese adds, “I love a lot of the local bands—folks like Squib Kick and The Narrows. Tommy Wright III.” “And,” Jay concludes, “I can’t forget my buddy Kaonashi. Always love giving them a shout-out.”
Sitting here, I feel the power of that first venue still—that coziness and camaraderie. I could sit here listening to whirring guitar and throbbing bass all night. It makes me confident that the future of Memphis music—queer or not, local or touring—will shine on this stage. Maybe with some Tekken or GoldenEye in the front room.
You can follow HavenHaus on Facebook or Instagram for updates: @havenhaus901
