By Lee Shook Jr.

It's no wonder people are starting to look at Birmingham's music scene with newfound appreciation, making it difficult to remember a time when the city struggled with its musical and cultural identity, suffering at the hands of critics unable to look beyond the city's dimly lit past.

It's a city filled with a robust nightlife, cutting-edge record labels, life-changing concert experiences and a hive mind hell-bent on dispersing old stereotypes with radical ideas usually reserved for cities like Atlanta, New York, Chicago or Los Angeles.

Not that all of that hasn't been going on in some form or another in small pockets around the city for decades. It has, which helped lay the groundwork for today's sonic revolution.

The proof is found in the success of breakout artists like St. Paul and The Broken Bones and Wray. It's also evident in the emergence of new venues like Iron City and Saturn, music festivals like Cask & Drum and Secret Stages and local infrastructure from recording studios such as Communicating Vessels to local concert ticketing companies like TicketBiscuit and the ever-present Coalition of Independent Music Stores/ThinkIndie brain trust.

Over the years, rumblings of local greatness had periodically bubbled to the surface with artists like Topper Price, the Primitons, Carnival Season, Eric Essix, Telluride, Vova Nova, Slick Lilly, Little Red Rocket and others making waves on the regional, and occasionally national, scene. Still, it always appeared as if the world was in some way conspiring to keep Birmingham's best-kept secrets exactly that.

A few made it out for good runs with consistent airplay, media attention and the occasional record deal--most notably Brother Cane, Verbena and Remy Zero-- but almost always ended up just out of reach of a wider audience. Birmingham's music scene continually floundered in isolation, chronically living deep within its own echo chamber and unable to capitalize on its best creative minds due to a lack of ingenuity and much-needed musical assets, forcing many of its leading lights to move elsewhere in hopes of making it big.

"It was frustrating living in Birmingham in the '90s and early 2000s because the musical talent was extraordinary, but there weren't great resources for musicians," says entertainment lawyer and former Birmingham resident John Strohm. "So you had a lot of high-level talent--local bands and musicians-- who never really made it out of the area."

Strohm rose to prominence in the late 1980s and early 1990s playing music with beloved indie bands the Blake Babies and The Lemonheads.

"It reached a point where it just defied probability that the city had never produced a homegrown superstar, never mind those American Idol guys, who only underscored the shortcomings," he says.

It's a sentiment echoed by longtime radio DJ and tastemaker Scott Register, who says it's easy to see why people could get frustrated.

As someone who helped play a major role over the years in shaping the city's slow musical evolution from behind his desk at Reg's Coffee House, the influential music distribution company ThinkIndie and now Birmingham Mountain Radio, he's seen it all.

"Birmingham's music scene has always been akin to the 'Little Engine That Could,'" Register says. "It's made its way to the top of the mountain several times over the years, but always seemed to slide back down the tracks every time it looked like it might get over that big hill."

But something about the scene in 2015 feels different, Register says.

"For the first time in my memory, it appears poised to make it over that hump."

It seems Birmingham's independent music scene has finally come into its own and made a name for itself as one of the most exciting up-and-coming cities for both traveling artists as well as tried-and-true homegrown talent.

From hip hop and blue-eyed soul to indie rock and electronic music, DJ culture, Americana and jazz, there's no shortage of creativity or talent in our town right now, and it's positively brimming with excitement over the new possibilities that seem to pop up every week as people fire off ideas about how to turn Birmingham into the "next big thing" on the Southern music circuit.

Having fostered a wide array of gifted voices here over the years, with more and more infrastructure being put in place across the metropolitan area, the Magic City's moment in the sun seems like it's finally arrived.

The Bottletree Revolution

How did we get here? It's a complicated question, and one not easily answered without leaving out scores of key players and venues that helped lay the foundation for today's exploding local music scene. From all-ages gathering spots like Tuxedo Junction and Cave 9, to the beautiful multi-use Workplay facility and Alys Stephens Center, legendary underground nightclubs like The Nick, Marty's, Ona's, and Gip's Place, production companies like Red Mountain Entertainment, and countless working studios around the city, there are almost too many people to name when it comes to crediting everyone who has helped pave the way for the present day health of our musical economy.

Yet, if you asked most people in town to pinpoint the beginning of Birmingham's recent musical revolution, many would trace it back to a small club that opened in a largely neglected part of town in 2006.

The Bottletree Cafe: a club that would not only set the standard for accommodation and performance in the Birmingham music scene, but also across the nation, as bands that passed through town would return home with tales of religious zeal inspired by their time spent at the venue.

From the airstream trailers used as dressing rooms and sleeping quarters in the back, to the charming interior bric-a-brac design, incredible sound system and unheard-of level of artist hospitality offering everything from free meals to clean socks, few entities in town did as much to boost widespread appreciation for the Magic City music scene than Bottletree.

It also brought some of the most amazing acts of the international music community to play in a club setting usually reserved for much smaller bands, hosting everyone from TV on the Radio and St. Vincent to Dr. Dog and Dawes-- as well as scores of up-and-coming young artists who would later rise to national fame after playing the venue.

Bottletree made the Birmingham music community rethink not only concert promotion and artist relations, but also the tired old assumptions that the city couldn't, or wouldn't, support a venue presenting independent music. Started by the brother-sister team of Merrilee and Brad Challiss, along with Brian Teasley from underground sci-fi surf rock/concept band Man or Astro-man?, the trio quietly set about revolutionizing the local music scene by providing Birmingham with a club in Avondale that doubled as both a community arts and recreation center and vegan-friendly restaurant that catered to the needs of both traveling and local artists.

"It's hard to imagine Birmingham's renaissance without Bottletree," Strohm says. "It had everything to do with the way they treated bands. For a long time--and I experienced this first-hand-- Birmingham clubs did not go out of their way to make musicians feel appreciated. That's what Bottletree did so well for years, make an act feel that gratitude that makes them want to say nice things about the city to other people."

It's a response Register has heard, as well.

"I speak with artists all the time who sing the praises of Bottletree," he says. "They love the vibe, the scene and most importantly, the way they are treated and taken care of by the staff."

With a hardworking DIY attitude and a knack for bringing buzzworthy concerts to town, Teasley and the Challisses elevated Birmingham's status within the music industry. It also planted a socio-economic anchor in the heart of Avondale that would soon inspire others into action by laying the foundation for what would become one of the hottest entertainment districts in the metropolitan area.

Now home to hip new bars and multiple restaurants, much of Avondale's gentrification can largely be attributed to Bottletree's commitment to the area at a time when many didn't see the potential for much in the way of urban renewal.

Highlighting local music acts by placing them on bills with larger touring bands also helped nurture the growing scene in a way many other venues did not.

Not that other establishments weren't making room for local music, as well. It was the commitment level and proactive stance Bottletree's owners took that set it apart.

As home to the two-time regional Emmy Award-winning live music program "We Have Signal" on Alabama Public Television, it was hard not to take notice of Bottletree's leadership role in the resurgence of energy on the local scene. The birth of Bottletree was a watershed moment in the history of Birmingham music and one with an effect that will continue to reverberate long after the club's closing.

Communicating Metaphors

Following the opening of Bottletree in 2006, it became clear something had fundamentally changed in the city and that more and more people were taking the Birmingham music scene seriously.

Whereas in past years, most Birmingham musicians and artists might move to Nashville or New Orleans in hopes of being discovered, many had begun to consider staying home, realizing there were more viable options for them within the city limits. It didn't happen overnight, but over the next few years, there seemed to be a renewed focus on local music-- almost a challenge--to see what could happen next.

Building upon the synergy created by having a local gathering spot dedicated to sonic diversity and community-driven projects, others began to branch out in different directions to see what was possible.

With only a few local indie labels around, most significantly Skybucket Records (which went to great lengths to cover Birmingham's music scene starting in 2002 with a series of noteworthy compilations and releases from regional bands), Birmingham was still in need of a cutting edge imprint that could take its musicians to the next level.

A few smaller labels had emerged in the form of Ol' Elegante, Fat Sandwich, BamaLoveSoul and the electronic-based glitch mob known as Step Pepper Records; but it wasn't until the appearance of indie stalwarts Communicating Vessels in 2011 that things really started to take off.

After spending years in L.A. following his band's initial major label success with Geffen, Remy Zero's Jeffrey Cain returned to Birmingham in 2007 to settle down with his family.

Communicating Vessels initially started as a way to document all of the great music he heard upon his arrival back in town. He was impressed by the likes of Wild Sweet Orange, as well as indie rock outfit The Grenadines and local hip hop collective The Green Seed. Cain began earnestly reaching out to Birmingham's burgeoning pool of talent to help produce and record their music.

He drafted seven-time Grammy Award-winning audio engineer Darrell Thorp --a veteran of recording sessions for artists such as Paul McCartney, Beck and Radiohead-- to come and help mold some of the material and start to build what would become a shining token of the hidden possibilities inherent in an untapped and underappreciated music market.

Recognizing the potential for a new venture predicated on creating industry intrigue from within his hometown, Cain set about making some of the finest crafted albums Birmingham had ever produced.

Eventually, he went on to build a world-class studio and storefront facility in the heart of Woodlawn's business district. He couldn't help but try and capitalize on the latent opportunities for creative engagement in the community.

"I remember the germs of all these conversations we all had at various stages, like, 'Oh, it would be great if we had a record like this or a restaurant like that,'" Cain says. "I love being on the ground floor of hearing those late-night conversations of 'what if.' And Birmingham's just the kind of canvas where you can actually make that 'what if' a thing and actually into a reality.

"I believe right now there is a collective of people in this town who are really helping to kind of create that momentum and to help you see things through."

Hoping to bring renewed vibrancy to another once largely neglected part of town, Cain wanted to be a part of the cultural revolution he saw in Birmingham. He took on acts like Shaheed and DJ Supreme, Man or Astro-man?, the Dirty Lungs and Wray. Piece by piece, his vision started to come together.

Thorp also saw potential in the acts he heard as well as the business model and recording space Cain created.

"I've talked to Bekah [Fox, label and product manager for Communicating Vessels] about the rumblings of what they're trying to do in this little artistic district, and it's a really cool thing," he says. "And it's a cool way of working in a new direction. Especially because the music business needs some fire under it to sort of revive it in a weird way, because it's dying a harsh, horrible death in terms of the way some of the labels are running. They're still thinking in the old modern scale, and that's just not reality anymore.

"So for someone like him to take a huge risk and put this stuff out there is great. But by the same token, it's freaking amazing some of the talent that's here."

Taking its name from a Surrealist text by the artist Andre Breton-- one whose meaning doubles as a scientific term for a group of connected containers whose collective hydrostatic pressure and fluid level will remain equally distributed no matter how much liquid is added to or taken from the others-- Cain stumbled upon a working metaphor not just for the record label and atmosphere, but also a larger idea applicable to the Birmingham music scene.

Like Bottletree, Communicating Vessels embraced a "rising tide lifts all boats" work ethic that sought to include the community in its successes by creating a welcoming presence that worked towards the greater good.

Allowing his space to be used for open DJ workshops and concerts, as well as creative workstations for local artists, Cain managed to tap into the unified front that so many others were already actively engaged in.

"I think the more those walls [were] torn down and everyone started actually, really not having any ego or fear that someone's gonna take something from them, or it's something they're not gonna have ... artistically and business wise, better things started happening," he says. "We're all trying to help each other do great things and do better things. And we only want to see each other succeed."

Maintaining that philosophy, Cain reached out to fellow labels and artists in town, including them in projects. He hired Travis Morgan from Skybucket Records as part of his full-time staff and collaborated with the Ol' Elegante crew on the first Man or Astro-man? release in over a decade.

It was a welcome change of attitude from the day-to-day experiences Thorp had worked in a city full of careerist ambition.

"This scenario is much more of a family ... open table spirit," he says. "It's like a Sunday dinner. Anybody and their brother can stop by .... Honestly, it was strange to me coming from L.A. because you just don't see that."

Cain managed to add to the increasing momentum being felt around the city as more and more people pushed for each other's success.

Boldly investing in the local music community, Communicating Vessels helped lay the groundwork for bigger and brighter things to come.

Soul Explosion

With the groundbreaking work accomplished by Bottletree and Communicating Vessels, it was almost inevitable that an act would come along that would break the scene wide open, gaining greater recognition for the music created and nurtured in the Magic City.

That's just what happened in 2012 when a group of young Stax and Motown disciples got together to form a band.

St. Paul and The Broken Bones initially started off as nothing more than a way to document a few tunes Paul Janeway and Jesse Philips had begun singing and playing together in their living rooms.

With a shared affection for Otis Redding and Al Green, the two decided to have one last go at making music together. Along with a few of their friends, they recorded a four-song EP at Ol' Elegante Studios in Homewood with the help of Lester Nuby.

They enlisted the help of ex-400 Unit guitarist Browan Lollar, along with drummer Andrew Lee and local horn players Allen Branstetter and Ben Griner. Few expected the group to become one of the biggest bands out of Birmingham in recent memory and one of the most talked-about acts ever to come out of Alabama.

Following the lead of Alabama Shakes, the group would forge a sound indebted to the retro-soul of Muscle Shoals while at the same time acknowledging more contemporary influences like David Bowie and Radiohead.

St. Paul and the Broken Bones became a local phenomenon within months of playing their first shows. The group would go on to work with the Shakes' keyboard player and aspiring producer Ben Tanner, who helped mold their sound into a cohesive whole.

Eventually they were asked to become one of the first acts on Tanner's fledgling record label Single Lock Records, based out of his hometown of Florence (and co-owned by John Paul White from The Civil Wars and local businessman Will Trapp).

The group exploded onto the national scene with a ferocity almost unheard of from a Magic City music act. Bolstered by local radio play and a rabid fan base that couldn't get enough of their riveting live performances-- including early shows at the Bottletree-- the band ultimately became one of the greatest overnight success stories of the new millennium.

The group proved that Birmingham was ready for primetime, and great music was being created and nurtured here. With universally lauded appearances on "The Late Show with David Letterman" and NPR's Tiny Desk Concerts, glowing write-ups in almost every major music publication and shows lined up across the country playing sold-out theater dates along with major festival appearances, St. Paul and the Broken Bones remain poised to leave a lasting impression on the national conscience that will likely reverberate for years to come.

The story of St. Paul's rise to fame has proven to be emblematic of a larger cultural movement, and one that seems to speak to the very soul of the city that brought them into being. Cutting across racial and generational divides, they unleashed an explosion of energy waiting to be let out.

"I hear Birmingham a lot," says music industry veteran and former Birmingham resident Don Van Cleave. "It didn't hurt that the Alabama Shakes blew up so big and then St. Paul right afterward, giving the state two of its hipper signed acts since I can remember. I think those guys kind of point back and have a lot more people paying attention to what's going on in all of central and northern Alabama."

For Strohm, who represents St. Paul and the Broken Bones as well as Brian Teasley and The Bowery Presents' new Avondale venue, Saturn, Birmingham has finally developed the proper infrastructure to help bands and the local music community thrive in ways they never have before.

"Local acts are able to develop because the resources are there," he says. "From great venues, to press, to radio, to cheap rent, to practice spaces, to good part-time jobs, to a culture of support, to access to venture capital, connections to the larger industry, etc. It seems like we're checking every box these days."

Though Bottletree's reported closing might come as a shock and heartbreak to many, the idea that brought it into being will hopefully continue to inspire new entrepreneurs to seek out their creative outlets to keep Birmingham culturally and musically vibrant.

For Brian Teasley, who was a big part of the club's early success, it's all about the next generation and the group of kids that follow.

"It's really the lack of Birmingham being a music 'industry' town that makes people here such appreciative music fans and, honestly, that's always existed, even outside of all the prodigious growth of exceptional shows that have come to the city over the last 10 years."

Seeing the potential for growth in every nook and cranny of Birmingham's great neighborhoods, the Magic City has cast a spell on a whole generation of individuals who want to see it shine like it never has before.