Buffalo Music Scene In Your Front Yard: Elmwood Porchfest
Photo by Sam Ray-Johnson.
Life is hard and full of challenges that make existence difficult for some of us. Lately, I’ve finally been digesting the fact that I am neurodivergent, and everything that means for my day-to-day routine. I don’t process or feel the world the way neurotypicals do. What comes naturally to others can feel impossible to me — yet tasks that seem daunting to them, I handle daily. It’s a dance of damned if I do, damned if I don’t; a never-ending catch-22. Thankfully, now that I am inching closer to seeking a diagnosis, there’s a community of others like me that comes with that acceptance. I am not alone in this vicious cycle, and thankfully, certain constants make me feel like everything is right in the Universe, even when pieces of it are falling apart.
One of those anchors has been music. Since the pandemic, I’ve survived hardships that should have destroyed me, but the one savior I’ve always clung to was live performances. It’s the entire reason I started this blog.
Since formulating plans to move to Buffalo, the Elmwood Porchfest is an event I’ve anticipated for months, maybe even a year. Nothing made me more excited than the thought of local bands lining the streets right outside my door. When I picture the perfect city to reside in, you couldn’t come up with a more “made-for-me” concept. And to top it all off, while most people think rain in Western New York is bothersome, the gloomy downpour didn't dampen my spirits.
As we walked through the cool afternoon, we encountered artists of all genres. One was a funky band with plenty of brass; another, a DJ warming up a gathering audience with spacey, extraterrestrial melodies. There were people of all ages out and about, from cute elderly couples to younger pairs with infants in tow, to kids bustling around on scooters. We made a pit stop during the heaviest shower inside Essex Street Pub and there was a wedding party going on, with a bride decked in a black gown (which made my goth heart leap). Through a brief relief of the deluge, we made our way through each road, admiring old architecture that makes the Elmwood area so unique: beautiful well-kept gardens with lush trees, blooming flowers and decorated yards, up to our favorite lunch spot, Wasabi Japanese Restaurant, right in the nick of time before another flood of water from above. Although we couldn’t explore as far as initially planned due to lacking an umbrella, I felt like a kid in a candy store passing each setup. Right across from my own porch, several wonderful groups took their stages — most memorably a riffy, heavy rock ensemble and a dreamy, spunky indie group. Although cut short, it felt like everything I love was rolled into a single day.
Photo by Sam Ray-Johnson.
Even when I feel overstimulated by the world, days like that make it easier to continue on. Buffalo Porchfest was a sanctuary for me. I can’t say that there aren’t bad days here and there, but events like that are what keep me going despite neurodivergent burnout. Sometimes I wish I could just be "normal" — but it’s weekends like Porchfest that give me a small taste of that peace. Some people regulate with good food, a decent night’s sleep, or hanging out with friends. I listen to Buffalo live music, and find joy in the rain.
While I wish I could write more, I reached out to the Elmwood Village Association multiple times for an interview without a response. Next year, weather permitting, I hope to be better prepared to speak with the various artists and get deeper insight into the beautiful, kind community that makes this the City of Good Neighbors.
For once, I feel happiness in my home. And that’s a more precious gift than anyone will ever understand.
