Sing Us Home Festival 2025: A Newcomer's Introduction to Philly Music and Community
- Jesse Stowe - Senior Contributor
- 3 days ago
- 7 min read
Preface
I wrote about it before it happened: I was excited to attend a Philadelphia festival that showcased talent from an era when I had bounce in my step and strut in my stride. Yet, as is the case in recent years, especially since COVID-19, the closer the event approached, the more my anxiety kicked in. You see, I am quiet and shy, one of those people who take years to get comfortable in their surroundings. Yet . . .
I am an essayist. Maybe not in the proper academic sense, but compared to journalists, my reviews follow an explorative format; I take in experiences and attempt to express the thoughts and feelings they create. My review of Sing Us Home is no different. I interviewed Frank Brown a month and a half ago, tried to draw connections between the artists in the weeks leading up, and finally attended the festival last weekend. While I wish I could have written something for Monday, I had to allow the experience to fester until its purpose became clear.
My Findings
The Logistics
Because I like being open (at least in my writing) and honest, I must say that Camélia and I only attended the second and third days of the festival because of scheduling conflicts. However, I wanted this event to be something we could enjoy and not stress over. Of course, I was going to put in the time to write an essay, and Camélia took a bunch of pictures. But, fitting in and learning the vibe is part of my process. I imagine myself as a bird flying in, watching from the treetops. Absorbing the energy.
As we left the parking lot, I asked for directions to the festival. She told us that it was easy: all we had to do was follow the music. Although we did not know it then, we were hearing the tail end of Speedy Orbitz. My anxiety wanted me to express emotions, yet I wanted the festival to be a good experience. I had a choice, and I decided to accept my anxious thoughts as part of me and let them go.
After getting our wristbands and going through the gate, we saw a crowd wearing a lot of black and sporting tattoos. I suggested a tattoo tent would be cool, not knowing we would see one. That and an upscale yet hipster barber tent. Good food, but not so many options that it was too much. Craft beer, cocktails, and non-alcoholic wellness drinks. Merch. Yes, we were at a small festival.
It is easiest for me to start with a simple fact: I loved the location. While I look fondly upon my mud-filled festival experiences from my twenties and early thirties, attending one on Venice Island in a concrete park was beautiful. Being on concrete for hours is rough on my older legs, but not trudging through mud to get from place to place was a great relief. I remember some festivals were so rainy that it was nearly impossible to walk shakedown. Two that come to mind are Spring Hookahville at Buckeye Lake in 2002 and Phish at Coventry in 2004. They were mudfests with the former probably being the worst I’ve ever experienced. But at Sing Us Home, I felt dry even in the rain.
Another reason I was able to enjoy the Philly hometown fest was because Camélia and I could come and go. We woke up in the morning, got ready, and made the 35-minute journey to Manayunk. There was no rush. Nobody was expecting us. Then, we could go home at the end of the day. Beautiful. I love my bed.
At the festival, Camélia and I knew no one. We were observers amongst a community that had known each other for decades. Yet Sing Us Home was a family-friendly, welcoming festival. Children danced with their parents. Friend groups enjoyed drinking craft beer and cocktails, eating local Philly foods, laughing, and enjoying life. And while we did not know anyone this year, who knows what the future will bring? I’m betting that if we put in the time, we will get to know many of the people who put on the festival, and we will think back to an era when we could quietly observe because no one knew us.
The Community
I brushed this topic during the last paragraph of my logistics section: A large majority of the people in attendance either wore black shirts of some kind or sported tattoos. Maybe that is a bit of an overstatement, but I hope you get the idea. Rockers, hipsters, and punkrocksaveslives.com. Even if it felt like a distant life for some of the older adults, they had lingering memories that brought them to the festival. It was a recognizable community that I noticed on the sidewalks outside of the venue. But that’s just part of the story.
There is honesty in music. The lyrics of some songs address very human stories of tragedy and loss. It is the vulnerability that draws me in. When a musician is open and shares their feelings and thoughts, I am more willing to listen. It’s the same as honesty in fiction that makes stories relatable. Two musicians at Sing Us Home took it to another level.
On Saturday, Tim Hause took the time to tell us about two losses in his life. The first was his mother when he was young. (I did not think to take notes on it, because I never imagined I would bring it up.) Then, he mentioned his best friend, Shane Montgomery, who drowned in the Schuylkill River during the early morning hours of Thanksgiving, 2014. The event was tragic, and the story was a heavy moment at a festival. Tim finished his story by saying that seeing the communities of Roxborough and Manayunk come together was the silver lining. Then, the somber moment was followed by the highlight of the set, “Fear Ate My Faith;” Dave Hause jumped on stage to add vocals.
While Tim Hause provided a moment unlike anything I had ever seen at a festival, another musician added one of his own.
During his rainy Sunday afternoon set, Ian Robinson, better known by his moniker Black Guy Fawkes, took a moment to introduce his last song of the day, “This is What Fear Feels Like.” His words fit the gloomy day outside, but he surprised me by talking about a time when he was suicidal. Then, he thanked the crowd, saying the community of musicians and fans helped him get past that dark point of his life.
While both moments affected me at the time, I never imagined that I would be writing about them. However, reflecting on Sing Us Home, I realized that Tim Hause and Black Guy Fawkes felt comfortable enough within the community to open up. Yes, I understand it might be part of their show, but as I mentioned, it was new to me. Both musicians shared extremely personal moments, and I appreciated them for it. You see, sharing isn’t just caring; sharing is allowing yourself to be vulnerable, which is a major component of building community.
"The Boss"
Bruce Springsteen folks. Yup. During Dave Hause & The Mermaid’s Sunday performance, it struck me. Philly loves the Boss.
I’m not saying that all the bands I saw were trying to be Springsteen. No. Mary’s Morning Deathbed and Mobley were nothing like him. However, a good amount of the musicians reminded me of him: his poetic, storytelling lyrics; the catchy, accessible rock; and even his look. Maybe the last one is a stretch, but look at the pictures.
Tim Hause and his all black...
Dave Hause and his black t-shirt and high energy...
The hair and the smile of Frank Brown. Again, I may be reaching with the looks, but...
This lesson may be the hardest to prove, but once I started asking around at work, I heard how the people in their forties and fifties spoke of him. Even my younger co-workers remembered their parents, especially their dad, listening to the Boss. And it makes complete sense. Springsteen’s socially conscious lyrics would have spoken to the working-class Philadelphians, especially in the 70s and 80s. Plus, his stomping ground of Asbury Park, New Jersey, was not far away. The Ocean Avenue Stompers, the brass-infused party band that entertained the crowd between Sunday acts with their high-energy genre-blending performance, were from Asbury Park. To call back my first piece on Sing Us Home, there’s a connection.
My Final Thoughts
Maybe this is not the review you thought it would be. Fair enough. However, I tried to write one in which I looked at each band (at least the ones I watched) and its performance, but I felt little as I read it over. That’s not how I remembered Sing Us Home. When Camélia and I were there, we were stepping into a new community. Of course, we enjoyed the music, but both of us were drawn to where we were and what was happening around us
Then, when I saw the article Rolling Stone Magazine posted about it, my anxiety began to climb again. I fretted that I’m not a fast writer and didn’t get my article out early enough. But then, I reeled it in and did what I do best. I reflected, found my angle, and went for it, knowing that Sing Us Home and the bands had received their deserved attention. I knew I could give it a personal review to show my vulnerability, to thank the community for its welcoming environment. Because think about it, I’m writing about Philly. Not the cliché city that is rough around the edges, but the one that welcomes other hard-working, working-class people who aren’t afraid to be themselves. Sentimental. Nostalgic. Yes, to both. But also, honest. Maybe not in-your-face enough, but I’ll get there. At least I have the honesty down.