The 1990s were a transformative era for Reno’s local music scene. The Biggest Little City provided space for a diverse range of bands, spanning genres from indie to punk.
Popular venues such as The Little Waldorf on Virginia Street and The Lounge on 4th Street became essential to the local culture, fostering a sense of community and supporting local musicians. Although as the Reno scene expanded exponentially in the 90s, so did envy. The desire to be the most successful band or at least more locally famous became an obsession for many. Jealousy soon manifested itself in destructive behavior.
One of the most infamous rivalries of the era involved Swing Seven, a five-member rock band formed in the late ’90s. They quickly grew a following of devoted fans as well as devoted haters. Fueled by jealousy or perhaps stupidity, a close friend of one of Swing Sevens members decided to steal from another rock band called Straight Edge.
This friend broke into a storage container that served as both a practice space and equipment storage for Straight Edge. Several instruments were taken, an act that ignited a bitter feud. Straight Edge — true to its name — was a band whose members rejected smoking, drinking, and drug use, looking down on anyone who indulged. When the group discovered that someone linked to Swing Seven had stolen from them, a deep-seated need for revenge took hold.
At first, their retaliation came in the form of intimidation. Rumors circulated, threats were whispered, and ominous warnings were exchanged. They talked about how karma would eventually find them, until one day they took karma into their own hands.
One random night, Swing Seven was performing a vibrant live show. The venue was packed and one of the members decided with a crowd that size they’d want to stage dive. As a member from Swing Seven leaped into the air though he was quickly grabbed and yanked down to the floor where Straight Edge began beating him up to a purple pulp.
The hostility extended beyond Swing Seven. Any band associated with them became a target, including Gut Bomb, a group known to be close friends with the embattled rockers.
Three decades or so later, exclusion and hostility still exist within Reno’s music scene, though the nature of conflict has drastically changed. While bands in the ’90s often settled disputes with physical altercations, the modern era has replaced fists with digital warfare and call out culture. Petty rivalries persist, but they now play out through social media and attempts at canceling rather than face-to-face confrontations.
Bands with grudges will attempt to ruin reputations online. A single rumor — such as accusations of predatory behavior — can lead to immediate excommunication from the scene. This isn’t just hypothetical; it has happened to multiple musicians and bands.
Often, these claims are unverified, yet mob mentality fuels the scene. Without fact checking, rumors spread like wildfire, transforming into dangerous situations where careers and reputations are destroyed overnight. Personal vendettas and jealousy can quickly escalate into full-blown smear campaigns, with musicians piling onto the controversy simply to take down a rival.
Wounds from a fight heal, but a tarnished reputation in an interconnected online world can seem impossible to restore.
Being ‘woke’ or cautious in today’s scene is an absolute necessity if bands want to be successful. Everything from merchandise design to the words spoken in casual conversations is scrutinized. Even associating with the “wrong” people can result in being blacklisted.
The impact of cancel culture within the music scene has been devastating for some. One particularly disturbing case involved a young musician — whose name will remain anonymous to protect his privacy. For this article, he will be referred to as Crazy Boy 07.
A boy named David started a rumor on Instagram, falsely accusing an artist, Crazy Boy 07 (a pseudonym), of messaging minors for sexual favors. Crazy Boy 07, himself a minor at the time, faced intense backlash. No matter how hard he tried to defend himself, the damage was done. He was publicly shamed, bullied, and abandoned by nearly everyone in the scene. His only supporter was his mother, who continued attending every show, cheering him on from the crowd. While her dedication was heartwarming, it was heartbreaking to see a 17-year-old boy crying before and after his sets, struggling against a lot of relentless harassment.
Months later, David admitted that he had mistaken Crazy Boy 07 for someone else. His apology? A careless shrug and a dismissive “My bad, I got the wrong guy.” Meanwhile, Crazy Boy 07 was left to pick up the shattered pieces of his reputation. Unable to recover from the public humiliation, he has not returned to the scene since.
While Reno’s music scene has evolved, the underlying culture of rivalry and exclusion remains. In the past, drama played out through physical fights and public confrontations. Today, the battle has moved online, where cancel culture and social media dictate who stays and who gets pushed out. The tools have changed, but the impact remains just as devastating.