22 May 11th–May 17th, 2023 phoenixnewtimes.com phoenix new Times | music | cafe | film | culTuRe | NighT+Day | feaTuRe | NeWs | OPiNiON | feeDBacK | cONTeNTs | We Have Liftoff Space Cadet Fest looks to launch the local arts scene into the stratosphere. BY CHRIS COPLAN P erhaps as with the rest of his career, booker/ organizer Robbie Pfeffer found inspiration for the forthcoming Space Cadet Fest, scheduled for May 20, in a decidedly bizarre setting. “I went to a bar in Washington, D.C. that was themed all space,” says Pfeffer, who fronts the simi- larly kooky local band Playboy Manbaby. “Kind of like 1950s B-movie space. It was just such a cool vibe and such a weird, quirky thing.” He adds, “Ever since then, I’ve thought, ‘Dang, I want to do something that has that same kind of vibe and feeling.’ Because there’s so much you can do to expand that out. It can be this weird experience with built-in storytelling.” Holding a space-themed festival most places might seem odd. However, it’s more than fitting for The Trunk Space, especially given the venue’s rather unique history of festival concepts. “We also had the Indie 500, which was, in my opinion, the coolest festival of all time,” says local artist and Trunk Space board member Veronica Everheart. “There’s also another fest happening, called Local Inferno, and that one’s a little bit different.” It wasn’t the intention of Trunk Space to become a pseudo-hub for weird, left-of-center fests. But Space Cadet, which features 24 bands across a handful of stages in one day, is a shining example of what happens when artists and organizers think differently. “We’re not going to compete with any other festivals as far as budget. The Red Hot Chili Peppers are never going to play Space Cadet Fest,” Pfeffer says. “We can make it something where this is a unique experience; this is some- thing that’s not just a smaller version of what the bigger festivals are — it’s its own thing entirely.” Pfeffer’s interest in fests comes from his efforts booking similar events over the last decade. He’s tried to use that experience to make Space Cadet its best possible iteration. “In 2013-2014, I was throwing a lot DIY festivals,” he says. “They were very DIY. We had no clue; we just basi- cally did whatever we thought was best. And I’ve learned from playing real festivals.” It’s ultimately about preemptively tackling small issues before they wreak havoc on an event. “Most of the things I’ve learned are not things like, ‘Oh, this festival did this badly,’” says Pfeffer. “They’re like, ‘Wow, this is how we could make this more profes- sional but still within our scale.’ Like, this is a $30 festival; not a $300 festival. It would be great if people helped carry gear. It would be great to have enough water bottles for everyone. Or, have a green room for everyone.” But if there’s one area where more fests could do decid- edly better, it’s the presence of local artists. Both Pfeffer and Everheart think a Phoenix-centric spotlight is huge at these events. “This fest is going to be run by people who are involved in the local arts community,” Pfeffer. “It’s going to be attended by people who are involved in the local arts community.” He pointed to one such large-scale event, Innings Fest, that’s routinely forgotten about locals since its 2018 inception. “Well, they just don’t think it’s worth it,” Pfeffer says of organizers C3 Presents. “They are very much people who are out-of-town promoters, just kind of carpet-bagging and coming in to make money.” He adds, “The locals they have are Gin Blossoms or Jimmy Eat World, which are fine local bands, but they’re also the two local bands who had radio hits. They had Sydney Sprague once, but one local band in [six] years of existence is pretty pathetic.” But that locals-centric angle goes deeper still. It remains a real concern, and even with her own firsthand experiences, Everheart remains puzzled about some of these booking decisions. “Myself and my partner’s band [Slug Bug] were the only two locals on M3F this year,” says Everheart. “Which I thought was kind of odd, especially because there were a couple bands from out-of-state that had just as few followers as we did.” Still, there may be at least one answer as to why locals aren’t getting the exposure at bigger fests. “I think festivals are very much rooted in financial gain versus an indie promoter that just really cares about bands,” Everheart says. They’re not entirely without understanding, though. Everheart knows that big-time fests have heaps to juggle, and that might explain why Space Cadet is built for a very specific focus. “I think the bigger something gets, the harder it is to maintain a local presence just because of the funds poured into it,” says Everheart. “Trying to balance paying for this entire, huge overhead of what it takes to run a festival, you’re going to need to outsource your talent a little bit.” Luckily, there are other examples of more locally focused festivals within Phoenix. “Then you look at Zona, which had 15 to 20 local bands,” Pfeffer says. “It’s a local promoter who’s actually attached to the community and had local businesses [involved]. That’s so much better of a festival. There are definitely professional, comparable local acts that could totally do justice to whatever stage you put them on.” Even with its issues, M3F remains a shining example of community-minded festivals. “M3F never really intended to grow to the size that they did grow, and now they donate all the money every year,” Everheart says. She adds that Space Cadet could then be “like a micro-M3F.” There are plenty of reasons why more local acts at fests is ultimately a good thing. For one, it’s vital for maintaining a rich and thriving local scene. “Festivals provide a unique opportunity for younger bands to play,” says Everheart. “I can go backstage and meet artists that are at a certain level that I can work with. I met someone M3F that I never would have met before, and we’re going to record together in New York.” Pfeffer echoed similar notions: growth for artists often means engaging with the “machine” as much as possible. “As much as I love, and have enjoyed doing DIY base- ment tours, in order for people to be able to make this a career, and to reach a wide audience, they need to be a part of traditional music,” he says. “That’s the thing that I’m seeing that didn’t exist before very much.” Plus, if artists are going to play fests, then it might as well be something off-the-wall like Space Cadet. “With Space Cadet, it’s more of a unique festival experi- ence versus something like a Coachella,” says Everheart. “These fests are generally the same; they’re in a field and there’s a lot of drunk people.” As entertaining as bigger fests are, it’s that sense of “sameness” that often proves especially hindering: there’s just fewer opportunities for genuinely novel experiences. “I was just talking to someone who went to the first Lollapalooza fest, and they said there’s never going to be like the first Lollapalooza ever again,” Everheart says. “It’s kind of like the first Woodstock or something — these very memorable festivals. Like, what’s a unique experience that could come as a first?” Part of that process, then, is ensuring that the Trunk Space “brand” can facilitate this process, something that’s a proper concern ahead of Space Cadet. “I really want to rebuild Trunk Space’s reputation after COVID,” Everheart says. “I handle a lot of the book- ings, and being in school, it’s hard curating bills and drawing an audience. I think there’s an odd perception of Trunk Space.” She adds, “We need to revive Trunk Space’s name a bit. I believe that it’s really important, especially young musicians, know it exists because that how I got started.” It’s more than just young bands; so many artists wouldn’t have an audience outside those hallowed halls. “If you have an alternative puppet show, there’s one venue in town that will book you,” says Pfeffer. ▼ Music Jake Hines MRCH are one of the many local acts playing the inaugural Space Cadet Fest. >> p 24
