The independent music venues in Oakland that keep underground music subcultures alive
Writing and Photography by Sophia Cutino
Guarded by chain link fences and thrashing dogs, empty lots and decomposed mattresses are harbingers for home–at least for frequenters of a self-proclaimed “bar for losers.” Sitting under the 580 and 24 freeways at 37th and MLK Blvd, the solitary, beckoning light shining “Eli’s” may seem an ominous warning, but the distant sounds vaguely resembling music magnetically pulls studded leather jackets into an alternative queer epicenter.
The pitch black building guarded by patched up vests is our first stop of the evening. Typically with accessible covers from zero to fifteen dollars, the gentle tattooed giants kindly ask you to donate to the artists. Through the swinging door, the cacophonous noise welcomes you to a few punks and sometimes a pulsating crowd.
And now, you’ve found it. Amidst the bodies. That’s where the music is. Liberated in the radiating heat between swinging limbs.
As medium-sized live music venues have overturned since 2020, Eli’s Mile High Club is one of the few remaining underground music venues (and bars facilitating a simultaneous smoke and drink) in Oakland. Catering to everything but the mainstream, Eli’s is a safe haven for alternative subcultures and the queer community. From noise rock, metal, hardcore, other random words ending with -core, to blues nights on Mondays, Eli’s hosts a large variety of music acts, basically anything that doesn’t fit into traditional, commercial venues.
Billy Joe Agan Jr. became a co-owner of Eli’s in 2016 around the time of the infamous Ghost Ship Fire. He opened the doors to the grieving community but shut them to the nagging press, this sentiment of protecting his people is a strong value of the bar and venue today.
Although he reports the alternative scenes “are not that big,” Agan prioritizes these “weirdo communities” from non-traditional political views to gender expressions and music tastes.
Maintaining a space for alternative ways of expression is a core value in the history of Oakland that Agan is determined to keep the scene alive not for revenue but passion.
“I make as much as a shitty dentist,” he reports, “it’s purely, I’m invested and care about the local music scene” because music subcultures “like noise rock wouldn’t have a space or audience” without a safe place like Eli’s Mile High Club or Thee Stork Club.
Colloquially known as “Stork,” the club, also co-owned by Agan, has a strong history of favoring queer communities and outsider art, with historic ties to the director known as “The Pope of Trash,” part-time San Francisco resident John Waters who had his 78th birthday party at the club this past year.
Sisters with Eli’s, Stork caters to goth, darkwave, death rock, dark metal, electronic, and punk genres with many shows hosted by Bay Area online radio show and booking agent, Hot Goth GF. Founder Christina Villanueva loves that these genres are a “celebration of darkness, truth, strength, and power,” themes many of these bands air out in their music. Some of these artists include JOCK, Boyswitch, Lahorka, Yama Uba, Exuvia, and many many more. Focusing on queer and femme artists, Hot Goth GF strives for empowerment and safety for self expression. Places like Thee Stork Club make individuality into a community.
On Sunday December 8th, Hot Goth GF booked JOCK at Thee Stork Club. Unnaturally dyed hair, choppy mullets, obscure face piercings and tattoos, leather, and lot’s of black are the unspoken dress code. JOCK is a San Francisco based cross-genre noise rock band that enjoys playing at Eli’s and Stork more than San Francisco venues. These Oakland venues are “more extreme” says the drummer Cass, from clothing to music to general ambiance “it is grungier and more fun.”
The band also highlights the larger audience these venues bring, welcoming open-minded and passionate listeners beyond their friend group.
With increased security and regulations than DIY shows, these spaces value a “good time and a safe time,” says the band’s bassist JB. JOCK, like similar bands in the scene, play for “whoever’s into it.” “I don’t want Nazis,” the lead singer Kiana says, “But honestly, they probably wouldn't be into this in the first place.”
These venues play a crucial role in nurturing and preserving underground music scenes in Oakland by making room for niche and avant-garde ways of expression. Kiana says “these are places people go to naturally” because they are “divey, punky, and gay a little bit…okay they’re very gay.”
On December 12, Thee Stork Club shared “NO COVER FOREVER” on their Instagram page, removing their cover charge for bar patrons, while leaving the venue section ticketed for entry “because bands don’t grow on trees and musicians still need money.”
Here, musicians and attendees have the freedom to be reactionary to the status-quo, knowing that they will be heard and accepted by a community that values innovation over mass-market appeal. Eclectically curated, some nights will miss the mark on intelligible music, but when the outfits and lineup aren’t half bad, the space’s electricity will dilate your pupils open to beauty.
The strength of Oakland’s underground music scene lies not just in the performances but in the relationships these venues foster. These spaces act as gathering points where musicians, artists, and fans build connections that transcend the typical concert experience you’d see at Fox Theater. Small stages fitting barely more than the band equate the art of the audience with the music. After the show, the music between artists and attendees isn’t severed by green rooms and backstage passes but rather lingers like cigarette smoke through lipsticked lips and holes in fishnets.
Agan is not just an owner but a member of the community, understanding from the inside out the challenges of owning a live music venue in Oakland. “Venues and owners do it for a passion of supporting these music communities,” he says, “you have to be some kind of mentally ill to open a club [like this] in Oakland.”
For many, a night at Eli’s or Thee Stork Club isn’t just about hearing live music—it’s about belonging to a community that values self expression and creative freedom.