How One Teen Created a Demand For Music in Bergen County, New Jersey

NAME: Philip Oshinsky

WHAT: Musician and Venue Operator

18-year-old Philip Oshinsky is a man of many talents. On top of being an incredible musician, he is also the operator of a house venue in Bergen County called the Philmore. Each month he invites nearly seventy teenagers into his basement to witness a lineup of hand-selected artists play an intimate and eclectic show. Unique in that it functions as a singular unit (as opposed being part of a larger network of venues), his basement provides a space for independent local bands, budding photographers, and avid listeners to come together to celebrate music and life.

Below is a conversation I had with him about his experiences as a venue owner.

Phil and I sit in the front part of his basement, organizing cables before the show that night, featuring Rain Johannes, The Suds, and the Seb Isaac Band. The colored lights and fog machines are off, and the constant buzz that fills the space with magic is still hours away. Despite knowing him well, the pressure of the interview thickens the air in the room. My trembling hand hits record.

VICTORIA: Tell me a little bit more about the Philmore! What is it?

PHIL: The Philmore is a basement venue where I have about 3-4 bands play almost monthly, usually spanning about 3 hours. I want to keep it short and sweet because while people are looking for a thing to do on a Friday or Saturday night, it can be hard to keep people for much longer than that, despite the lack of other things going on. It’s basically just a series of concerts I put on, where it doesn’t really matter what your social status may be in school or who you are, you’re just here to have a good time, enjoy new music, and meet some new people at the same time.

V: Cool, so how did you come up with this idea and how did it come to exist?

P: So I was living in a different house at the time, a house on the other side of Tenafly, and when we found out we were moving, I was ecstatic to know that there would be this space for me to make music in. And I thought that while it can be nice to make music on my own and have this space to myself, sharing it with others would be much more enjoyable. I was originally just going to have people over to jam, but when the autumn slump of junior year hit, I figured that 1) people need something to do and 2) it would be nice to have more music-centric events in the area, since there’s a huge lacking.

Phil’s phone rings, interrupting his train of thought.

So for the first one, I decided to contact a couple of my closest friends, who had projects/bands going on at the time, and I said “Hey, I have this great idea about having concerts at my house, instead of at a venue, are you in?” and the rest is history. New Jersey in general doesn’t have that many venues. I mean there are some in like Asbury Park, and there are venues in--

V: Montclair?

P: Yeah, Montclair and more populous areas. But in areas such as towns in Bergen County, there’s not much to do and I really wanted to create a space where people could learn about new local music while being able to socialize and make new connections.

V: Nice. So I know before you mentioned that there aren’t a lot of house venues here, and there’s just a lack network for running a venue and attracting people, in general. What other challenges come with running the venue? P: One of my most daunting and unexpected challenges involved me realizing that I actually don’t know that many bands in New Jersey. I had to do a lot of research to even find out about certain bands and rappers that I would even consider having. Most of the performers I find are recommended to me by other performers which makes sense, I guess. It’s scary sometimes; I sometimes feel like I’m kind of begging bands to play. But at the same time, I usually find the right type of people for the Philmore and it’s always a really great time.

Another challenge I face is trying to make these concerts accessible. I could just advertise them on a larger scale and try to get any randos to come. But I kind of need to know who’s coming, or at least if it’s a friend of a friend, or even a friend of a friend of a friend (whatever that is) because I’m not super comfortable with having total strangers in my home.

V: That makes sense for sure, and you do a really good job of managing that, actually. Could you explain how you’re able to do that?

The door swings open as people start filing in for soundcheck, and we decide to postpone the rest of the interview for later. Phil and I regroup on a quiet wooden bench outside of the only late-night diner in town. The show is now over, the dance party has died down, and the stragglers convene at various tables over mediocre coffee. Our friend, David, runs outside to take our order. Phil orders a grilled cheese and I order fries that never come. P: So once you’re added to the Philmore group on Facebook, you'll be able to see announcements for when the show is. A time is also given to RSVP for that specific show and that’s done through a private event in the larger Philmore group. Once the event goes live, everyone gets an invite, and they can use that to RSVP online. Once the “going” list reaches a designated number, I uninvite everyone else and cap the event, so we don’t go over capacity. I hate having to limit it and tell people “no,” but we’re really limited by the space I have.

V: Even though I know your deal with RSVPs, it seems even more stressful when you talk about it! Between that and running sound and keeping track of 60+ people in your basement, it just seems like so much work. But what makes it all worth it? What do you get out of running The Philmore?

P: It’s funny, I treat the whole thing with such nonchalance, just because I don’t really get to experience what other people do. But other people tell me that this was easily the highlight of their high school careers or that this was their first concert and it was amazing or that they had never seen anyone our age perform solo jazz standards before, and that makes it all worth it. It’s really nice to be able to create a second home for some people, musicians and spectators alike.

We rejoin our lovely friends inside of the midnight beacon that is the Tenafly Diner, riding the wave of post-concert energy for as long as we can.