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It was about March, and I was standing in a dingy, mold-infested basement in South Chicago trying to stop my allergies from acting up. A few large-ish speakers were crammed into one side of the room while kids set up drum sets and tuned their guitars. I was waiting for a local hardcore band to take the "stage." Everything was in short supply here except the beer and fliers for upcoming punk shows. Even the lighting was little more than floodlights bought from the local Home Depot duct-taped to the rafters.