Sean Russell
A few days after Thanksgiving, a silence overtook the once bustling stages of what were some of the last bastions of Fort Worth’s local music scene. In late November, three of the city’s major venues, Lola’s Saloon, the Twilite Lounge, and Downtown Cowtown at the Isis Theater — all music incubators where local talent developed their craft — suddenly and unexpectedly closed within three days of one another.
It’s not an overreaction to say the news marked the end of an era for Fort Worth’s local music scene. And serious questions are now being raised about the industry’s future in Cowtown and what these struggles mean for the city’s creative class.
But, to put it in perspective, it’s not just Fort Worth’s small venues that are struggling; it’s part of a nationwide trend. According to a recent study conducted by CNBC, many smaller, independent music venues have yet to see business return to pre-pandemic levels.
Stephen Parker, executive director of the National Independent Venue Association (NIVA), told CNBC in November: “If you are a larger venue, you’re probably doing quite well post-pandemic. But if you’re a smaller venue, you [might be] seeing business and keeping your head above water, but you’re also seeing that many of the things that larger organizations have at their disposal, which is economies of scale, is becoming harder [to achieve].”
Since COVID, the rising cost of living has shrunk disposable incomes, and money for entertainment and leisure has sharply dwindled. And venue owners, of course, have not been immune to their own escalating expenses — experiencing a dramatic rise in the cost of doing business. For these reasons — rising expenses coupled with the fact that venue attendees aren’t spending as much — many venues over the past few years have gone under despite the lifting of COVID restrictions.
“Post-pandemic, a lot of people were just scared to go out,” says Jon Carney, former co-owner of M.A.S.S. — Main at South Side — a once popular venue that hosted local live acts. “To top that off, costs went way up. It was always expensive to run a live venue. However, COVID made it very difficult to continue.”
According to Carney, who owns the Chat Room, a bar in the Magnolia corridor, the cost and model of running a live venue versus a regular bar are completely different.
A live venue will generally charge a fee at the door — a cover charge — for admittance to a show. It’s not unlike a ticket. In a perfect world, the venue will break even on the costs of putting on the show, including paying the band, sound engineer, and even the guy collecting the cover charge. The PA system, often rented by venues, is another cost.
“We just wanted to break even at the door,” he says. “In the end, a live music venue just wants to sell alcohol. This is where the profit sits.”
There is also something troubling that’s best explained as a generation gap. Since the 2020 COVID shutdown, Carney says younger people — those defined as Generation Z — appear to be pivoting away from enjoying live music in favor of entertainment on their home computers and phones.
That’s a trend, Carney says, that is devastating for live venues. Those in their early-to-mid 20s, once the bread and butter for music venues, have, according to Carney, largely abandoned attending shows.
“Social media is huge and it's free,” Carney says.
While many agree with Carney, a recent global study conducted by Live Nation contends the opposite. According to the study published in July, when compared to the general population, 94% of those interested in live music are more likely to be Gen Z. Yet, concurrent studies have also discovered that Gen Zers consume substantially less alcohol than their Millennial and Gen X counterparts — 28% might not drink at all.
Whether via ticket or alcohol sales, the music venues are losing out on revenue, and older — or should we say, more mature — audiences are left with an ailing sense of nostalgia. This might explain why the shuttering of Lola’s, long considered the elder statesman of live Fort Worth venues, resulted in panic and protestations from local musicians and music fans alike.
"Lola’s shutting down is devastating,” says Sean Russell, frontman of local band Cut Throat Finches. “I mean, in my opinion, Lola’s is the music mecca, at least the rock ‘n’ roll music mecca of Fort Worth. Which is to say, it is a big cultural piece of the fabric of the city. And to see it close is devastating for what it represented.”
Lola’s rose from the ashes of the Wreck Room, a rowdy rock club that was owned and operated by Brian Forella. For 10 years, the Wreck Room, located on West Seventh Street, was at the epicenter of Fort Worth’s underground rock scene when it was at its zenith in the late 1990s and early 2000s. Soon after the Wreck Room closed in 2007 to make room for development of the corridor, Forella opened the first iteration of Lola’s on West Sixth Street where Birdie’s Social Club now resides.
In August 2022, Forella moved Lola’s to Berry Street, where it has remained until announcing its closure Nov. 29.
Brandon Broke String Burnett performs at the original Lola's on Sixth Street.
“It’s almost like talking about a loved one who died,” local musician Brandon Burnett says. “Places like Lola’s are very important for up-and-coming musicians who haven’t learned how to hone their craft yet or are still trying to find their sound.”
Burnett, who is the lead singer in the Broke String Burnett band, says he was one of those “green” musicians 10 years ago when he first played Lola’s. “I owe a lot to Lola’s for helping me get my start. I found two of my current bandmates playing in other bands while cutting my teeth there.”
Russell is another who played the now-closed club more times than he can count. In fact, Russell says he played all three of the recently closed venues at one time or another. “It’s sad to see [Lola’s] fall because if that one's vulnerable, then you just got to ask, ‘Who else is vulnerable in Dallas and Fort Worth?’”
The tally of live venues that support local music in Fort Worth has only weakened given these closures. Some of the faithful few venues left to keep the beat of local music rolling include The Cicada, The Post at River East, Magnolia Motor Lounge, and Tulips — though the latter’s event calendar contains mostly national indie acts.
“If we continue on this path and we don't care about it, then we could become the Plano music scene real soon,” Russell says.
John Stevens, co-owner of The Cicada, one of only a handful of live venues left, says he’s alarmed by the loss of several live venues. However, he’s staying strong for the young artists who still want to play and learn.
“Basically, we are just trying to provide a service, more than anything else,” Stevens says. “I’ve been a musician in this town since I was teenager, and I just want to provide the same place I was able to get my start at and learn my craft at.”
The Cicada inhabits the former Carney-owned M.A.S.S., which is to say there is still a silver lining to the cloud hanging over the underground Fort Worth music scene.
“People will always find a way to new music, and music will always find a way to survive,” Stevens says. “There’s always people who want to play it, and equally there’s always people who want to hear it.”