Night Falls on O, Morning
Four months after the demise of Syracuse University's independent, student-run label, its co-founder reflects on the future of the scene.
Dan Creahan and his friend Sam Mason started O, Morning Records in their dorm room in 2008. "I'm just glad to be along for the ride," their first artist, Sarah Aument, said at the time.
About a year back, my friend Sam and I worked the door at one of the massive O, Morning Sunrise/Sunset shows that we got in the habit of putting on during our junior year. We crammed 11 or 12 bands into a house and staggered the line-up so that two bands almost always played at once. Music floated through the floorboards from both the basement and attic, and the sheer number of people coming and going made the energy in the house nothing short of palpable. Near the end of the night, Benjamin Mason, lead singer of Those Ghostfuckers and probably one of my biggest heroes in the Syracuse music scene, came up to talk to Sam and I. "You guys do realize what you've done here, right?" He asked us. "You've created a music scene where
Months later, those words still ring as one of the best compliments I've received, or probably will ever receive, in my life.
But I'm getting ahead of myself — perhaps some introductions are in order. I started O, Morning Records with my friend Sam Mason in 2008 to draw attention to the local music that we loved and wanted to share. It evolved over two years into a catchall for the shows, events, and albums we produced and promoted for our friends. They played a huge variety of musical styles, from jam-rock (Northbound Traveling Minstrel Jugband), indie hip-hop (Mouth's Cradle), and experimental (Bears In America), to hard dance music (Big Mouth) and
Sam and I tried to give a voice to other SU students who felt that Syracuse's music scene should be something worth talking about. In the process, we became the closest of friends. Those bonds formed from music — from sharing something so deep within yourself that it gives you shivers when you deliver it to a crowd. We pooled our money, time and every other resource we owned to cobble something together: 20 shows at local houses and venues, three full-length albums, and one seven-day tour that took us from Syracuse to Annapolis and back. Before we knew it, the project outgrew us. By our first Sunrise/Sunset show, more musicians clambered for spots in the line-up than I even
For all intents and purposes, O, Morning died last January. Eventually the demands on us became too great to overcome. Trying to network that many events and people is a demanding task, especially for three kids with little real knowledge beyond a few things we picked up in a classroom. When I left for London last fall, we all knew in the back of our heads that the label could not continue. There just wasn't any gas left in the tank, and we felt content to let it die an honorable, quiet death.
The beauty of it is that the end of O, Morning failed to kill the growing music scene it inspired. It seems like a show of some sort goes on almost every
I'm 22 years old. In three months, I finish school, walk across a stage, and pick up a scrap of paper that says what I learned in college. But that paper is bullshit. My education came in sweaty basements and dusty attics, choking on potential asbestos and feeling my eardrums get pounded to shreds. It came from the close bonds I formed on
But most of all, my real education came from every one of the kids who braved freezing temperatures, shitty woodwork, and the occasional bad turnout to pour themselves into this amazing scene. I have you to thank for our triumphs, and I can only hope that this sort of passion continues for years. This place could become anything you want to make it. Remember that.
