There’s a special kind of magic that comes from a house show. If you know, you know. It’s the feeling of bodies packed into a friend’s living room, elbows brushing as someone strums a guitar beneath a ceiling fan whirring overhead. Those house shows weren’t just about music, they were about belonging. About the way a space could hold you, and how a song, played inches from your face, could feel like it was written just for you. I’ve been thinking about those nights a lot lately. Maybe it’s nostalgia. Maybe it’s the way life seems to speed up, and I’m craving the slower, softer stuff. The kind of moments that ask us to pause, to listen, to feel. The music. The energy. The way a song could stretch into the rafters and make a space feel sacred, even if it was just a basement with string lights and a borrowed PA. Those nights shaped us. They were raw and imperfect and full of soul. And they’ve stayed with me, tucked in the folds of memory like old ticket stubs.
These days, life looks different.
We’ve swapped out futons for mid-century sectionals, cheap beer for fine wines, and mismatched chairs for something more intentional. But the longing for those stripped-down, intimate moments of connection never really went away. So we’re bringing it back—just a little more grown up.
We’ve started hosting concerts again. Only this time, it’s at our cityhomeCOLLECTIVE office space. A space our COLLECTIVE community has poured so much love into over the years. And at night, when the lights dim and bodies are gathered close, it feels like a living room all over again. The kind you want to linger in. The kind that invites music to fill its corners. We’re calling them HOUSEshows. A nod to where we started, and a celebration of what we’re building now. They’re for touring artists passing through Salt Lake City, local rising stars, and for anyone who misses the magic of music in a space that feels like home. So come by. Let the music wrap around you. Let yourself remember. Sometimes the best things don’t just live in the past—they come back to life when we’re ready to welcome them home.
.jpg)
