Over 150 college-aged attendees were packed into the worn-down basement, jumping and swaying to the live melodies booming just an arm's length away. Under a rainbow of lights, the sweaty crowd screamed like it was a rock concert, but the music was R&B and jazz.

Five hours earlier on that November afternoon, the makeshift stage of wooden pallets was empty. Without masses of people, the holes in the walls were visible. Water flowed through exposed pipes on the ceiling, over walls of Christmas lights and framed artwork from Twin Cities creatives. It was like any other college house.

Eli Awada, a 21-year-old keyboardist and University of Minnesota student, was untangling wires and setting up instruments to transform his basement into the Chop Shop — a space for 20-somethings in the Como neighborhood of Minneapolis to celebrate a variety of local music.

"Our focus from the beginning has been a diversity of sound," Awada said. "A lot of the house shows around here, it's just all punk rock and stuff like that. We have jazz groups down here, which is kind of unheard of with basement shows."

Awada spearheads the monthly DIY operation, which started in the fall of 2022 as informal jam sessions with friends. Through connections in the local music world and a learning-by-doing mentality, the Chop Shop has developed a business model that allows new and established musicians to connect with college-aged audiences.

Jada Aljubailah, a 22-year-old R&B singer, played at the venue's November show with Awada's jazz fusion group, Room3. Performing under the stage name Jada Lynn, she also had appeared at the venue's first show in October 2022, with no stage, borrowed sound equipment and promotion only by word of mouth.

"So much has changed since the time that I first came here," Aljubailah said. The Chop Shop crew members "have developed so much as individuals and hosts of this entire gig."

Awada said a driving factor in the Chop Shop's evolution is its partnership with Flavor World, a local brand that supports artists and musicians by making custom merchandise, designing promotional materials and hosting creative events. Its offshoot record company, Flavor World Records, helps musicians shoot music videos and provides a rehearsal space in their south Minneapolis studio.

Flavor World has collaborated with the Chop Shop since the venue's beginning. Awada's friend Beck Schacht, bassist in their band Room3, joined the Flavor World team in 2021. Schacht was the one who had the idea to convert Awada's basement into a music venue and quickly brought on Flavor World founder and CEO Drew Kinkade.

Kinkade, 25, saw the potential of the space, so he helped build the stage, design the lighting and book musicians for the first few shows. While he still designs the social media flyers for the Chop Shop, he said Awada now runs most of the operation himself.

"Early on, things were more collaborative, because none of us had a set idea of what was going on," Kinkade said. "But now, it's like a machine."

The Chop Shop sees an average of 250 concert-goers — the capacity of First Avenue's 7th Street entry — although not all at once. With many people coming and going throughout the night, the underground venue uses wristbands and a counter to track the number of attendees.

The entry fee is typically $5, with Awada, Kinkade and Schacht (who usually runs the sound) getting a little side cash, similar to what college kids might earn mowing lawns or babysitting. Some of the profits go toward improving the venue — secondhand high-quality speakers, a soundboard, stage lights and other technical equipment.

A large portion of the money goes toward the musicians. Awada prioritizes booking an array of talented artists to introduce to the neighborhood's young adult crowd.

Reaching new audiences

Awada curates the lineup for each show, drawing on experiences performing locally with his band and booking musicians for the university's student-run radio station, RadioK. He said he has a strong sense of the players in the local music scene, but arranging musicians in cohesive yet interesting bills also takes inventiveness.

"It is a creative process," Awada said. "It's similar to music, in a way, for me. You have to come up with something out of nothing."

The vision for a lineup usually starts with booking one or two artists that Awada is inspired to host. He then builds the rest of the bill around the themes those artists portray, like angst, dreaminess or theatricality.

The result is an eclectic mix of music, like punk with rap or jazz with hip-hop. With many newer artists breaking the boundaries of traditional music genres, this strategy allows for a unique mashup of artists to reach new audiences.

"I just like expanding that web of bands and their fans," Awada said. "Like introducing fans of one band to the fans of other bands and just growing that community."

The Chop Shop has welcomed popular up-and-coming Twin Cities artists that rarely play at house shows, like the experimental indie rock group WHY NOT and the indie punk trio VIAL. Every musician starts somewhere, said Kinkade, and the Como basement offers a valuable opportunity to propel smaller artists forward in their careers.

"The local house show scene plays a crucial role in the greater music scene," Kinkade said. "It's just a very grass-roots way of bringing music to life. It's a very approachable setting for new bands to play."

The audiences at the Chop Shop are outwardly encouraging during performances, shouting out compliments and cheering during complex vocal runs or guitar solos. This positivity flows outside in between sets, as people flock outside to chat excitedly with friends and strangers in the driveway or around a fire pit.

"It's kind of becoming a bit of a Como icon, may I say," said Kinkade. "Once Chop Shop's no longer a thing, thousands of people are still going to have memories, and they're going to be talking about it, and it's pretty cool."

Awada and his roommates are set to move out of the venue's house in August, because most of them are graduating from college in the spring. Although he's not sure if they'll carry the Chop Shop's brand to a new space, he's determined to carry on the basement's "legacy".

"Chop Shop forever," Awada said with a laugh. "We'll keep the momentum going."

Jessy Rehmann is a University of Minnesota student reporter on assignment for the Star Tribune. Reach her at Jessy.Rehmann@startribune.com.