From All-Ages Shows to 18+ Concerts: My Journey in DIY Promotion

Music has always been a huge part of my life. From being a teen and my mom taking me to Jamie's on 7 to see bands (it was a bar and kids were not allowed, but she worked there and knew the owner well so he let me in) to going to concerts at Joe Louis Arena, Cobo Hall, The Silverdome and Pine Knob all of my teen life and new venues for my adult life, or blasting my favorite bands in the car to taking my kids to concerts at Hart Plaza, The Casino and eventually all the way to Vans Warped Tour, it’s something that has shaped so many of my best memories. But I never imagined that love would lead me to putting on my own shows—first for all ages, and eventually for 18+ crowds. It all started with a passion for live music, a desire to create opportunities, and one memorable talk with Damien.

The Spark That Started It All

There’s something special about experiencing live music with your kids. Seeing their faces light up, watching them get lost in the energy of the crowd—it’s a feeling that’s hard to describe. I wanted them to be able to enjoy live shows the same way I did, I wanted all kids to experience it, but I quickly realized how few all-ages events were available in my area. Most venues catered to 18+ or 21+ crowds, leaving younger fans (and their parents) with limited options.

Then came the moment that really pushed me into action: meeting Damien in 2008. Talking with him about the music industry and hearing his perspective, hearing that he use to do all age shows in Detroit back in 1986 and had ODP, he told me if I wanted we could start doing all age shows, it made me realize that if I wanted to see more all-ages shows, I could be the one to make them happen. Instead of waiting for someone else to book the bands the kids loved at venues where younger fans could attend, I decided to step up and do it myself.

Building a Scene—At a Cost

Putting on my first all-ages show was both thrilling and nerve-wracking. I had to figure out booking, promoting, finding venues (White Tails, The Kaliseum, Charlie Browns Party Town and then eventually the Civic Center), and making sure everything ran smoothly. But seeing the excitement of kids, teens, and parents enjoying live music together made it all worth it. These shows weren’t just about entertainment; they were about creating a space where music lovers of all ages could come together, discover new bands, and feel like they belonged. They came from all over and became a family, the ODP family. 

I also loved being able to connect local bands with national touring acts. Giving up-and-coming musicians a chance to share the stage with bigger names was something that fueled my passion even more. The DIY scene thrives on these connections, and I was proud to play a role in making them happen.

But there’s a side to DIY promotion that most people don’t see—the cost. When you don’t have the support of businesses or sponsors, everything comes out of your own pocket. We at ODP didn't want to be like other places and make bands sell tickets or buy on. We wanted them to get paid for their art. That is what the cover was for. We designed it to break even, it wasn't about making money, it was about the love of music. It was about the bands and the fans, about making memories, about the most important aspect....simply put The Music. I was once told "If you are in it for the money, you are in it for the wrong reasons". Over the years, I’ve lost tens of thousands of dollars putting on shows, all for the love of music. And while the experience has been rewarding, the financial burden started to take a real toll on me. There were nights where I stood at the back of a venue, watching a great show unfold, knowing I’d be paying for it long after the last note was played. But at the time, I didn't care. I only cared about making the bands feel welcome and happy, like they had a home. The smiles on the fans faces was my pay. 

The Changing Crowd and Shift to 18+ Shows

As the years went by, something interesting happened—the kids who had been coming to my shows started growing up. They were no longer the wide-eyed teenagers discovering their first live bands; now, they were young adults, some with kids of their own, who still loved music but wanted a different kind of concert experience. At the same time, I noticed a shift in the younger generation. Instead of packing into small venues, diving into the energy of a live show, many of them seemed more interested in their phones than the bands on stage. They would sit off in a corner talking or scrolling on their phones. They paid to come in hang out and didn't care who was on stage because it wasn't about the music or making connections. 

This change didn’t happen overnight, but it became more obvious with each show. Fewer kids were showing up, and those who did seemed more disconnected. I’d watch bands pour their hearts out on stage while much of the crowd was busy scrolling. It wasn’t like the early days, when a room full of teenagers would scream every word back at the band, mosh, hardcore dance, or being in the moment.

At the same time, I saw that 18+ shows were drawing more dedicated fans. These were the same kids who had grown up coming to my all-ages events, now old enough to appreciate concerts in a different way. The energy was still there, the passion still alive. So while I never stopped loving all-ages shows, I found myself naturally booking more 18+ concerts, catering to the audience that truly wanted to be there. So after 11 years of all age shows, countless Christmas lock ins for charity, in 2020 I turned to catering to the adults. 

Looking Back and Moving Forward

What started as a love for music and a way to share it with my kids and other youth turned into something much bigger than I ever expected. I’ve had the privilege of working with incredible artists, meeting passionate fans, and helping to keep the live music scene alive in my community.

But I’ve also learned some hard lessons along the way. Passion doesn’t always pay the bills, and DIY promotion can take a serious financial and emotional toll when you’re doing it alone, which became reality for me in 2023. Damien joined a band and was playing out every weekend, so I had nobody to help me, could I have done it all? Yes, but mentally No. The reality is, you can’t sustain losing money forever, no matter how much you love what you do.

No matter what kind of show I put on—if I ever do it again-whether it’s an all-ages event or an 18+ concert—the heart of it remains the same. It’s about the music, the connections, and the unforgettable moments that happen when people come together to experience something real. But moving forward, I’m learning to balance my passion with sustainability, making sure I can continue supporting the scene without sacrificing myself in the process.

Final Thoughts

DIY all-ages shows have been my passion, my heartbreak, and my greatest adventure. I’ve poured everything I had—time, money, energy—into keeping the scene alive because I believed in it. I believe in the power of music to shape lives, to give kids a place to belong, to create moments that stay with us forever. But passion alone doesn’t keep the lights on, and the reality is that the cost—financially, emotionally—has become too much to bear alone. That being said, I wouldn’t trade this journey for anything. I got to vendor Warped Tour more than a few times, met some amazing local, regional and national bands, and made lifelong friends. I got to put on an awards show, marched in parades, built Troutzillafest from the ground up, and started the ODP Christmas Charity Lock-In—memories I will cherish forever. The experiences, the music, the community—it was all worth it. This isn’t a bitter farewell. It’s a reminder: DIY only works if we all do it. If you love these shows, fight for them. Show up. Support the bands, the venues, the people behind the scenes. Because when it’s gone, you’ll miss it more than you ever thought possible. I know I do. Thank you to everyone who believed, who moshed, who sang along, who made this worth it. The scene is yours now—take care of it!

Lots of love,

Mickey

Obscurrus Diem Productions