MFT 90s Fest: Portal to the Past

Blog written by: Katherine Carlson

This October, Musical Family Tree (MFT) celebrated 20 years of preserving Indiana's rich musical heritage with a sold-out event that transformed Bloomington into a vibrant portal to the past. The 90s Fest reunited bands, friends, and fans, rekindling the electric energy of a golden era in Indiana music.

The 90s Bloomington Reunion came together organically when Jeremy Baron of the Japonize Elephants and his college friends began brainstorming ways to reconnect. What started as a typical reunion gathering quickly evolved into a milestone celebration as Jeremy reached out to his bandmates to commemorate the 30th anniversary of Japonize Elephants. Inspired to combine the reunion and the show to make it more memorable, they began inviting other 90s-era bands to join, leading to a collaboration with Musical Family Tree to deepen the event’s impact.

The result was an unforgettable two-day festival spanning two venues, featuring 18 bands, surprise guests, standup comedy, and an open mic for the brave. Beyond the music, attendees enjoyed a thoughtfully curated outdoor space with food vendors, festival merchandise, and a pop-up record store stocked with albums from the lineup. A live stream captured the magic for fans who couldn’t attend in person, letting everyone in on the celebration. It was a whirlwind weekend of nostalgia, community, and expression—an overall unforgettable tribute.

A Mission Coming Full Circle

Founded in 2004, Musical Family Tree began as Jeb Banner's love letter to the scene that shaped him. As a student at IU Bloomington from 1990-1996, Banner was immersed in a vibrant musical ecosystem that would later inspire MFT's mission. His project to digitize cassette tapes from Bloomington's 90s underground has grown into a nonprofit powerhouse that has archived over 100,000 rare recordings unavailable elsewhere. Today, MFT doesn't just preserve history; it actively shapes Indiana's musical future through initiatives like emergency artist funding during the pandemic and the recent Swift Sessions—a groundbreaking partnership with the Indy Arts Council that created paid performance opportunities for 130 Indianapolis musicians during Taylor Swift's record-breaking Eras Tour stops in the city.

Sacred Ground

The choice of neighboring venues for 90s Fest—The Back Door and Blockhouse—wasn't just convenient but symbolic. These spaces sit adjacent to what was once Second Story Nightclub, where MFT's roots truly began. During his college years, Jeb worked there as a bouncer turned booking agent under the mentorship of Lee Williams (who would later found Lotus Fest).

At Second Story, Jeb launched Dollar Thursdays, a crucial platform for emerging local artists, while performing with his bands, the Staple Guns and Special Machine. Though Second Story closed its doors in 2006, hosting the festival steps away from its original holy site felt like returning to the roots of it all. The event echoed the energy of those sweaty dance floors and late-night shows, channeling the same spirit that sparked the scene and set it into motion decades ago.

Setting The Stage

As a millennial who went to Butler, my knowledge of Bloomington's music scene mostly revolved around Secretly Canadian's rise in the early 2000s. To prep for my stage manager shift at The Back Door on Friday night, I turned to my "scene encyclopedias"—two Gen X friends with deep roots in Indiana’s music.

"Literally looks like a Bloomington show flyer from 1995," one of them said when I sent over the lineup. They reminisced about these bands being a class ahead of them—working record deals, joining bigger bands, and landing opening slots for major acts.

They told me I’d be in the presence of many 'OG punks,' including Vess Ruhtenberg and Mark Cutsinger of Zero Boys fame—a band I know about thanks to their guidance. They also flagged must-sees The Academy and Into the Airlift (though I sadly missed the latter at Blockhouse).

While it’s easy to romanticize music scenes, 90s Bloomington embodied beauty and messiness—insecurity, confidence, and the chaos of young adults finding their way. The bands and the crowd seemed equally excited and apprehensive as they confronted old ghosts and saw who they—and everyone else—had become after all these years, facing this duality head-on. Growing up in Cincinnati's tight-knit music scene during my college years, watching bands rise, and relationships evolve, I recognized the weight of this reunion and its miraculous quality. It’s a rare opportunity to get another chance at the past.

I arrived at soundcheck, and as bands started loading in, the room quickly filled with familiar faces, a mix of excitement, nerves, and déjà vu in the air. This wasn't just any reunion—this was going to be a deep night of reflection, youth, and coming-of-age stories. Jeb's curated house playlist set the sonic stage during arrivals, with Pavement, Liz Phair, Guided by Voices, and Fugazi prelude to the night ahead. (P.S. You can follow this playlist on Spotify!)

Photo Credit: Jeremy Hogan

Time Travel In Motion: The Music

The Academy kicked off night one with Jeb introducing them as a band "ahead of their time." Their electro-guitar dream pop featured rich basslines from Mike Rutz and melodic hooks sung by Courtney Kaiser, creating a trance-like dreamscape that would feel equally at home on 90s mixtapes or today's indie playlists.

Later, I ran into Courtney Kaiser in the bathroom as she prepared to retake the stage with United States Three. She urged me to find a sightline to watch Mark Cutsinger's drumming, calling him a "legend"—a sentiment that echoed what my Gen X friends had texted me earlier.

The evening wasn't just performances, it was community in action. Uvula's drummer, Wade Parish, brought extra cymbals to accommodate different playing styles, and bands shared backlines seamlessly. Set changes flowed with practiced efficiency, and the musicians' mutual respect and professionalism were evident despite their years apart.

As El Niño began setting up, Jeb tipped me off about another legend: John Hicks and his pedals. "This place is about to be packed and loud," he said, slipping in his earplugs. I watched John feverishly lay out an array of pedals before him like a scientist on stage. Gearheads gravitated to the front, watching in awe as the band meticulously adjusted their setup. The more they tinkered, the more the anticipation built, the air humming with excitement that mirrored the buzz of the amps during soundcheck. When they finally launched into their set, the crowd surged forward, belting lyrics as if they were back at a sweat-drenched house show. Glenn Hicks, the other Hicks brother, anchored the pulsing rhythm section on bass, proving El Niño hadn't lost a beat.

Photo Credit: Jeremy Hogan

John Strohm's set shifted the room's energy with intimate stories about the scene. Standing stage left, he seemed to intentionally decenter himself, letting his collaborators (including El Niño’s Glenn Hicks) and the music take focus. His philosophical songwriting pulled at heartstrings as the crowd hung on every word, every note. Later, he wrote in his Substack post "Bloomington, Bloomington": "Every act put in the work brought their A-game, and connected beautifully with the receptive audience. It was nostalgic but also visceral.” His journey from local hero to Lemonheads guitarist to entertainment lawyer offered a unique perspective on "making it" including both the triumphs and challenges.

Decked out in black and white, United States Three brought the psychedelic groove to the party, delivering a stadium-sized show in a small club. Vess Ruthenberg commanded the stage with his unmistakable vibe (and iconic bell bottoms), his guitar work so fluid it felt like an extension of himself. Mark Cutsinger, in classic punk attire (black cap, skinny-tie, Converse) attacked the drums with a graceful ferocity that confirmed all the hype. In true rockstar fashion, Vess turned to the live stream camera between songs, giving a shout-out to at-home viewers, including a special mention to his wife. Carrying themselves like seasoned touring musicians, Vess and Mark infused the room with their infectious energy. Courtney Kaiser, back on vocals, brought a harder edge that matched the band's intensity, often exclaiming, “This is so weird!”—saying what everyone was thinking. That said, even I, the stage manager, couldn’t help but dance during their set and I was not alone.

In between sets, I observed the faces in the crowd; I could see their twenty-something selves shining through all the years—scene queens, tricksters, and weirdos all melting back into their younger selves. As John Strohm reflected, these scenes were "tribal, split into factions of bands, sub-scenes, and sub-genres, deeply territorial." But time had softened those edges. Old flames locked eyes across the room; former band rivals shared knowing nods, and "friends-with-everyone" types worked the room just like they used to. "We came together in loud, sweaty, beer-soaked clubs and at drunk and stoned after-hours hangs," Strohm would write later. "The only way to celebrate and revisit a community like that is on its own terms, with loud electric guitars blasting from the speakers.”

Photo Credit: Jeremy Hogan

As 11 pm approached, and the cups were running over, Uvula took the stage for their headlining set, perfectly straddling two worlds. IU kids were starting to line up as The Back Door prepared to flip back to its 2024 identity as a queer dance club, creating an unintentional but fitting backdrop for this time-traveling evening. The original crowd, now five hours into the night, huddled together for support, swaying and grinning as Uvula shared stories of driving to the East Coast to open for Beck and courting record labels to shoot their shot.

Chris Kupersmith, Uvula’s frontman, crowned the evening with their confessional-like setlist, quipping at one point, "I mean, we all hooked up and cheated on each other, so…" the crowd broke into knowing laughter, breaking any last tension that might be lingering. Like every artist that night, they couldn't help but marvel at how simultaneously thrilling and surreal it felt to be back together. Each song became more than music; it was a reflection from the other side, carrying the weight of lives lived, lessons learned, and bonds that were made and broken. Each song became more than just music; it was a reflection from the other side, carrying the weight of lives lived, lessons learned, and bonds made and broken.

When Chris paused to introduce each member, the crowd erupted with particular enthusiasm for Jimmy on guitar, who was "all the way from New York" and absolutely owning his craft. The between-song banter flowed with old stories and inside jokes until someone shouted, "More rock, less talk!" Taking the cue, they launched into a blistering final stretch that pushed past midnight, as if they had a checklist of unfinished business to settle before they could say goodbye again. Every song brought another wave of hands shooting skyward, friends leaning into friends, lovers embracing, and everyone wearing child-like grins that said, "I'm so happy to be here."

The festival continued Saturday with Japonize Elephants’ 30th-anniversary show and a heartfelt tribute to LonPaul Ellrich—a drummer, guitarist, singer, and producer whose distinctive style helped define the "Indiana sound." Nearly every artist playing original music in the state has felt his influence, whether they realize it or not. You can’t celebrate Indiana music without honoring LonPaul.

(Editor's Note: I was only available to volunteer the first night of the festival, so this coverage is heavily focused on Friday night and the lineup at The Back Door, where I was stationed as a stage manager. Shoutout to all the other performers who played and provided their own unique spin on the evening, allowing the notes and chords to ring out once again.)

Why It All Matters

Near the night's end, Jeb leaned over and show-shouted my way, "What do you think?" The answer was clear: "It makes so much sense now why you started MFT. Because you came from this," I exclaimed, gesturing to the room, "This is so special ." The “scene” before us was living proof of what happens when creativity is nurtured and supported by a community that believes in it.

What made this festival special wasn’t just the music—it was seeing how everyone had grown from this scene, allowing it to imprint and shape their path. Typically, scenes have only a handful of bands that keep the vibe alive, but here was 90s Bloomington, with enough talent to fill two days and then some. It shows how much a scene can generate and contribute to the broader culture with proper support, capturing the zeitgeist through an authentic lived experience.

What Makes a Scene?

The whole evening, seeing all the different players and watching the creativity and connection, made me wonder: what builds a thriving scene? What elements are necessary? What archetypes are needed? From the MFT perspective, you need someone like Jeb who cares to document, preserve, and gather; you need artists and visionaries to rally around; you need friends and lovers for inspiration; and you need stages where everything plays out.

As John Strohm pointed out, Bloomington in the 90s had all of this, much like other revered scenes of the time, such as Athens, Seattle, Minneapolis, and Chapel Hill. As he said, it offered:

Great venues
Community and college radio
Two different weekly arts papers
Local media coverage
Great recording studios
Affordable rent
Supportive record stores

While some of these elements have changed for musicians today, the core remains: You need places to play, experiment, and connect with an audience—people who rally behind your perspective and help amplify your message.

Beyond the infrastructure, scenes are built on something more complex: the swirling creative chaos of human relationships. As Strohm reflected after the festival, these communities are inherently messy—full of old flames, creative rivalries, and, yes, even decades-old grudges. You have "band dudes at the bar" claiming they could do it better, artists competing for the spotlight and validation, and the inevitable dramas that arise when art, ambition, and intimate relationships mix. It’s all part of the alchemy that makes a scene vital and real. Those tensions and connections—the joy, jealousy, love, and competition—are the invisible infrastructure that sparks the creative fire.

Photo Credit: Jeremy Hogan

More Than Just Nostalgia

The 90s Fest represented everything MFT stands for preservation, connection, and the power of community. The sold-out weekend proved that what happened in Bloomington wasn't just important for the artists and was transformative for everyone involved. Though Second Story may be gone, the spirit of that scene lives on through MFT's mission to preserve and celebrate Indiana's rich musical legacy.

As the final notes faded and the house lights came up, one thing was clear: Musical Family Tree isn't just archiving history; it's keeping alive the magic that happens when people come together to create something bigger than themselves. Here's to 20 more years of preserving Indiana music's sounds, stories, and spirit!

Complete Lineup

Friday: The Back Door: The Academy, El Nino, John P Strohm, United States Three, Uvula Blockhouse: Into The Airlift, Dragstrip, Virginia Scrapings

Saturday: The Back Door: Tribute to Lon Paul Ellrich, Arson Garden, Brown Betty, Stranded at the Drive-In, Speed Luxury Blockhouse: A.P.E, Brando, Shine, Neenah Foundry, Japonize Elephants

Shout Out's

A huge thank you to everyone who made 90s Fest an unforgettable experience!

To Our Hosts: We are deeply grateful to The Back Door and Blockhouse for being gracious hosts who understood the assignment and helped us pull off this two-day weekend miracle.

To Our Fans: To everyone who purchased tickets, flew in from across the country, tuned into the live stream, shared their heart at the open mic, or snagged some merch, your enthusiasm was the lifeblood of this event.

To Our Amazing Team: To the MFT Board and volunteers who went above and beyond—handling pre-production, day-of operations, and everything in between. Whether scanning tickets, selling merch, stage managing, or filling in the gaps (special shoutout to Kati Taylor and Craig Von Deylen), your dedication made it all possible.

To Our Artists: Thank you to the incredible bands that reunited for one unforgettable show. We hope this weekend sparks a return to the stage and inspires new, unexpected collaborations. A special shout-out to Japonize Elephants—your efforts to gather everyone together made this festival possible. Thank you for helping create such a memorable weekend.

To Everyone Else: If we missed you, we know your contribution added to the magic of this event, and we are deeply grateful.

And, of course, thanks to Jeb Banner for starting it all and continuing to champion Indiana's rich musical history.

Cheers to the next chapter of Musical Family Tree! 🎵 🌰 🎵

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