When I try to describe to people what exactly is going on in the old yellow cottage on First Street, they look perplexed, yet still intrigued. What was once In the Country boutique and more recently Alma’s Kids outpost, the cottage had been emptied out yet again.

Upon passing by the yellow cottage recently, I saw there was some new signage out front and a QR code. It led to a website for a music and/or design firm that I had come across months earlier on a business card. I scanned it and saw a new tab for “Listening Sessions & Events” but I still wasn’t sure what exactly this place was. We signed up for the session, which was a lofty ambient artist that I can’t recall the name of.

It took and actual trip to the space one Thursday night, with my musically-inclined husband, to see what exactly was going on in the yellow cottage. First street is quiet as usual on a Thursday night. Darkness in all the shops… but the little glow of the cottage with a neon orange “S” was brilliant and drew us in.

The shotgun style building offers one really long table for various analogue activities, the listening room, a couple of offices, bathroom, and a kitchen. A spidery array of wires and lights boasts from a familiar modular synth on a side table.

The self-described “Geek & Designer” Andy is proprietor of the Salad endeavor, along with a team of other software wranglers and audiophiles. He’s got an eye for things that create emotion and unite us in unconventional ways, whether its really niche things like Twin Peaks character arcs, rare vaporwave vinyl pressings, or deep diving on mid-century modern interior design.

“Aside from the listening sessions, community space is the goal” -Andy notes on the values at Salad. The listening sessions is just a jumping off point to make enjoying music less passive and more present.

That made me think. Yeah, I usually listen to music while I’m doing other things: exercise, writing, or driving. But in the cottage, I sat down and listened to the opening of Pet Sounds in the middle of the room through retro panel speakers pointing at me. It sounded like I had noise-cancelling headphones on. What is this sorcery?!

On our first of many visits, we found ourselves lingering in the listening room flipping through Andy’s massive record collection. He accumulated much of it while owning a record shop in North Carolina. I spotted Beach House and Father John Misty. A friend gravitated toward an In Flames box set. There is everything from Britney Spears to space banjo. The range feels intentional. Eclectic without being chaotic.

The whole vibe of the place is giving 1960s HiFi listening boutique that also acts like a time machine. There’s a range of retro-inspired audio and decorative equipment to outfit your own studio. Aside from that, you feel as if you could be transported to any other space just by whatever is spinning that night. We could have Tom Waits, Alice Coltrane, and Earth… maybe not in one night – but that’s variety!

It’s a new concept for Whidbey Island that may leave people scratching their heads. But I think it’s genius and exactly what we need. The revival of the Third Place is necessary to feel welcome to build commmunity, share ideas, and most importantly, make art. Though this place isn’t your typical listening bar, but it’s pretty close. You just don’t have to buy anything.

“These spaces were radical not only for what they served, but for who they served.
Inside, the social hierarchy dissolved.
Merchants, sailors, poets, and politicians all shared the same brew.
Ideas flowed freely.” –Josef C, on Medium

Though listening bars are no new thing:

Vinyl listening bars first emerged in Japan in the 1950s. These spaces were created for people to gather and collectively experience music on high fidelity systems. The bartender often curated selections from the bar’s vinyl collection. As writer Alyssa Lomando notes in a Medium piece, vinyl bars have made resurgence as turntables replace CDs in urban homes and vinyl outsells digital formats. The appeal is not novelty. It is intentional listening.

A downtown neighbor mentioned Shibuya HiFi in Ballard, a Tokyo inspired listening bar known for its meticulous sound system and immersive atmosphere. Those spaces can be niche and expensive. But what they sell is not alcohol or aesthetics alone. It’s an emotional experience.

The steady stream of Thursday night sessions has begun drawing a cross section of South Whidbey residents: designers, musicians, retirees, shopkeeps, creatives across all bounds. People who simply want somewhere to be that is not their couch.

“Cool spot, Cool dude. I’m listening to something that I wouldn’t normally listen to. He’s knowledgeable about music and invites conversation. Music is life, baby! And he gets it.” Andrey Psyche, aka mr. chill guy.

Conversations unfold about production techniques, album sequencing, interior acoustics, and whatever else the record sparks. Or it can be simpler than that.

It feels like the revival of a third place: Not home. Not work. Something in between that sparks something new. Maybe it’s the nighttime buzz of discussion… I can’t put my finger on it quite yet, but I like it.

On an island known for artists and thinkers, a space devoted entirely to listening and communing feels radical in its simplicity. It asks nothing but attention. In return, it offers connection.