Heavy Lemon is without a doubt the heavy hitter in the DIY scene. The Heavy Lemon collective consists of volunteers and a few major contributors: Chris Gough, who is the main driver and handles most booking and coordinating DIY shows; Saoirse Alesandro, unofficial-but-official art director, and vocalist for Star 99; Katie McTeague, of the band pacing, who helps out with social media and keeps things organized; and sound wizard Doherty, an alumnus of 924 Gilman Street in Berkeley.
Alesandro, lead singer of San Jose band Star 99 and a graphic designer at Metro, says she asked Gough if he was interested in someone doing flyers consistently for Heavy Lemon, a project that was then just starting.
“My good friend Saoirse has always had some strong opinions on what flyers should look like,” Gough says. “And they’re an important part to us, an important part of [Heavy Lemon], and we want them to look like works of art instead of something that’s boring that just gives you information. ”
“Punk flyers can be the worst thing you’ve ever seen and they don’t have to be,” Alesandro says. “If I see another severed hand or raven, I’m gonna explode. I know they come from the Xerox days — the black and white flyers, it’s punk history — but we are now in the era where I can use full CMYK, RGB colors. I’m over it. Please use pink.”
She sees DIY collectives creating new spaces for kids that are inclusive in ways she wishes she saw growing up. “There’s more girls now at shows, and they weren’t dragged there because of their shitty boyfriend. There’s a lot more queer kids, which is awesome, and not just white dudes,” she says.
“I’ve found that I now have this tiny little platform with these shows where I can say shit and they have to listen to me,” says Saoirse. “So I try to be like, ‘Dump your boyfriend. Start a band and dump your boyfriend.’ I’m always talking to the girls because it was so rare that I experienced feeling welcomed, or that I was supposed to be somewhere, and punk has given that to me, so I want to keep that alive in San Jose.”
Hardcore in San Jose has also opened a weird door, says Saoirse. “At first it was like, is this going to be a lot of white men together screaming? But there are more people of color in these bands,” she says. “Kids have started to see that there’s something happening in San Jose — they see that hey, come to a show and you might feel ok, you might feel welcome now,” says Saoirse.
“The trickle down that’s happening in these spaces is we’re seeing more spaces created for groups like Heavy Lemon and Crossthread, who are the homies too and they’re a collective run by queer people and women, and they’re booking shows which is amazing.”
The nonprofit, who has for years now, vied to open a genreless, all ages venue in San Jose, is booking and hosting shows at Open San Jose in the meantime, she says. It’s a venue that “feels like you’re at a warehouse or at an office building. It’s a super huge space, and it’s crazy to be having shows there.”
Three-dimensional chess
Scout Doherty, who now lends his expertise to Heavy Lemon, says he became enamored with live music after seeing a pop-punk Haiti benefit show at school when he was growing up in San Jose. Soon after, he started finding and attending shows, and while at college in Washington he dove into music production. “After college I started volunteering at 924 Gilman in Berkeley. I was head of sound and facilities there for a couple of years, and I learned a lot,” Doherty says.
Gilman has been volunteer-run since 1986, with decisions made by the people who make the shows happen. “What’s great about Gilman is anyone can walk up off the street and say, ’ey, can I get involved with sound?’ And then actually get trained and learn on the spot,” says Doherty.
Scout Doherty moved back to San Jose around 2022. “I went to a Heavy Lemon show and I just thought, ‘wow, this is cool!’ They were exactly the kinds of shows I’ve always wanted to see in my hometown when I was growing up, being done by people who just wanted to see something happen.”
From his experience at both Gilman and Heavy Lemon, Doherty observes that DIY can take a toll on organizers. “People burn out. It comes in waves sometimes,” he says. “Groups will get bummed out and decide maybe they should move on with their lives, and they leave. With DIY, you gotta play three-dimensional chess to keep morale high and attitudes in a good spot to keep it going.”
And even when things are going well, lack of funding, the risk of getting shut down over noise complaints, underage drinking, security issues and fire hazard risk is also at play. “And it’s hard not to point at tech and the crazy high real estate stuff, too,” Doherty says. “It’s hard to find any landlords who aren’t like, ‘You wanna do what in my space? Liability! Liability!’”
