Scene Report: Last Week in Ithaca, NY
If New York State is a poorly drawn and lopsided heart, Ithaca is at the near center of it. Ithaca is technically a city situated at the bottom of Cayuga Lake, which, on a map, is one of a few lakes that look like fish gills along the heart’s cleavage. I say technically because, to me, it’s just a quaint brick town tucked to the left of, and maybe a little overshadowed by, Cornell University’s campus. Though there’s really no grit or edge to Ithaca like there are in other cities, there is a music scene that is doing just fine.
On the long bus ride up north from DC, I can tell once I’ve entered the upstate area (if those big green signs on the highway didn’t give it away already). On the last weekend of February, snow still covers everything—it feels less like the result of some weather event, and more like a permanent state of being. Rolling hills are lined with pine trees and peppered with barns that vary from old to dilapidated. Tractors sit on huge and empty plots of land like black dots on sheets of paper. I pass by a large trailer park neighborhood with a playground that hangs only a single toddler’s seat from an awkwardly long swing set.
As clouds and dusk began to take over the sky, a cool tone of blue coated everything. It was nearly impossible to see anything—there were no streetlights along the road my bus took. The only light source around came from the LEDs next to people’s front doors, their houses which usually had only a single pair of tire marks in their driveways laid with snow. Ithaca is gentle and quiet, and probably very peaceful for retirees or the college-aged old souls who knit.
When I get off the bus in downtown Ithaca, I wander into the center of the Commons, a wide and cutesy strip lined by a perimeter of shops, eateries, and other quaint stopping-places. Ithaca is quaint, quaint, quaint. I check out and maybe do a bit of loitering in a cool, three-story music and book shop, Angry Mom Records, before heading to my main event of the weekend.
Despite the small-and-sleepy-northeast-town-ness of Ithaca, I was there for a very big and awake reason: Connor Lloyd.
Connor Lloyd, the frontman of Raindrop Collector, had been on my mind for a couple years prior to my impromptu arrival in Ithaca. He and I grew up together in another small and sleepy northeast town in Connecticut, and during our adolescence we bonded primarily, I think, over a strong distaste for our surroundings. Now he found himself, for better or for worse, at Ithaca College. On February 21st, I found him at the Kava Root Bar.
A bomb shelter-esque entrance leads you down into the sprawling basement venue that is The Sacred Root Kava Lounge & Tea Bar. Per its official government name, the bar specializes in traditional kava beverages, teas, and mocktails. Guys in knit beanies hanging around the bar laughed that almost any other city would be better than “this” as they cradled kombucha. Little nook and cranny rooms store sage, herbs, cauldrons and wicker baskets, mirrors and couches galore. Love seats in secluded, offshoot rooms house teenagers with no other place to canoodle as the main dance floor quickly fills.
The crowd swelled to its peak for the night for the first two bands (who I unfortunately won’t be focusing on in this report). The fans, much like those bands, are comprised mostly of local indie teenagers to kids in their very early 20s. They have 70s bowl or shag haircuts that creep over the rims of their thick and wide glasses. They’re wearing flare pants with heavy Carhartt jackets (classic), striped scarves, flannels, graphic tees, and fingerless gloves. Grunge in the 90s sense is alive and well in Ithaca. The crowd’s collective aesthetic is unmistakably townie—they’re dressed for warmth, necessary for Ithaca’s temperature that dove into the low teens that night, but are notably subdued compared to the edge of city locals: there are no platform shoes, no chains or overzealous jewelry, and no eccentric makeup like I’m used to in DC. In between sets, kids passed around deodorant and put it on earnestly.
The third band before the setlist’s (or maybe just my own) main attraction will get an honorable mention now, not only because the drummer is a prominent figure in the scene as well as a good friend of my friend Connor’s, but also because their sound was too good to not write about. RED 40’s lead vocalist and guitarist, Brennan, reminded me of AC/DC’s Malcolm Young, first and foremost because of his appearance—if it wasn’t the haircut, it was the wizard getup—but also because of his energetic stage presence and vocals. Bass guitarist Dominick might’ve contributed to the band’s overall sound and creative direction, though I wish I could’ve spoken with him to confirm (many Ithacans don’t take conversation beyond “Hi, nice to meet you”). His jumpsuit was cool though. Finally, Peter on drums was a force, playing with strict and powerful precision. Peter is an established long exposure photographer and videographer of Ithaca’s underground music scene: “The scene lives or dies by the pictures he takes,” Connor told me.
RED 40’s sound was an interesting mix, ranging from top 40’s classic rock influenced with punk speeds to songs with pretty mellow ballads. In between their songs, I overheard an attendee say, “They’re really good—I’m surprised.”
Next was Raindrop Collector, Connor’s band with his friends Jake on bass and Malcolm on drums. Connor, the vocalist and guitarist who wielded an 8-string guitar for part of the set, commanded all four songs they performed. I think it was four songs, anyway… while Connor paused in between songs to introduce the band or dedicate the show to his near-death father, I would get hypnotized in the expansive and unapologetically surreal songs that each spanned at least five or six minutes. Below Connor’s feet was an extensive pedalboard made up of 18 gidgets and gadgets that, based on my rough research alone, do essentially all the clean to heavily processed sounds. Naturally, Connor was no stranger to activating these pedals for distinct sonic sections, but I fear I’d do Raindrop Collector an injustice if I tried to explain exactly how they were used without consulting the artist at work.
Aside from instrumental prowess, Connor is a breathtaking and classically trained vocalist whose wails took each song to a place higher than anyone in the crowd I think could’ve prepared for. Raindrop Collector’s sound seems influenced by classic psychedelic rock (think Frank Zappa’s “Watermelon in Easter Hay,” for a very specific example, or Gentle Giant, CAN, King Crimson) but what Raindrop Collector—maybe Connor specifically—has that no one else has is an undeniable emotional appeal.
Having known Connor since he and I were about 16 years old, I know a thing or two about the past experiences that inform the emotional depth his music penetrates. He’ll explain those experiences to you himself if you ask, so I won’t recount them here. But even if you have no idea what Connor went through, you’ll feel it in his songs. They’re just beautiful, point blank period. The raw and emotional power of his music takes ahold of anyone caught in their sonic range. Several people came up to Connor after the show to tell him just how emotional he made them—“I couldn’t stop sobbing,” a fan told him emphatically.
After years of not hearing from Connor, I was more than pleased to finally see him perform live with a project that I know he cares deeply about—the last time I saw him on stage was as the Phantom in “Phantom of the Opera” in around 2018, or was it when he played Sweeney Todd? Who cares. After seeing Raindrop Collector, I can confidently say that Connor is a powerful musical force the likes of which I haven’t ever seen in the flesh before. What other artist is making fans cry while their fly is down?
As for Ithaca’s music scene, I’m happy to report that it is, if nothing else, definitely there. Despite the nearby colleges, it might be easy to write off this upstate nook as a quiet, nothing-going-on town, where the only action is getting drunk or high on someone’s couch. OK, maybe that actually is the summation of what this place offers. But still—don’t be surprised if the next big-yet-underground band hails from Ithaca, New York.