When the Music Stops

Reflections on Helene and photos by music journalist and student Audrey Wilson

September 27th, 2024.

That is the day the Western Carolinas and Florida went dark after Hurricane Helene, a category four hurricane, made landfall.

The early morning of September 27th is a bit foggy. I remember waking up around 5:00 am to my phone going ballistic over a weather alert from the National Weather Service. I sleep with my phone near my head, so you can imagine how alarming this was. I looked over and saw that my usually plugged up hair straightener was not lighting up anymore. “Oh, power went out.” I thought to myself. I figured it would come back later that day.

The wind.

It was the loudest, fastest wind I had ever heard in my life. Once 7:00 am rolled around and the rain was gone in my neck of the woods, the wind was still pulling down trees, hitting my window, and damaging homes, cars, and lives one tree branch at a time. I peeked outside to get a glimpse of what was happening and it was a cold, eerie, feeling. I was not yet prepared for how the next seven days were to go. None of us were. 

After going to sleep on and off again that Friday morning, I finally woke up and went along with my day, even though it looked different than usual. I was sad about my recently bought groceries (bought the day before, to be exact). My phone was dying, we had no power, and I was unsure what to eat for breakfast. I eat eggs for breakfast almost every morning with a toasted bagel. I take a warm shower. Both are things I could not do due to the lack of power.  I would eventually learn these are small problems in the grand scheme of things. I spent all of Friday, Saturday, Sunday and Monday (a whole weekend and some change) doing exactly this as follows: Charge phone, use phone, mourn over dead phone, cold shower, eat some cheez its, repeat. What a cycle. 

That Friday evening I decided to go to the Velo Fellow, one of my favorite Greenville establishments, to kill time and charge my phone up. Oddly enough, I was supposed to be at the Velo Fellow anyways to photograph some bands playing. I am unable to count how many Asheville based musicians I have photographed at that music venue alone. Greenville is a second home to many Asheville musicians and vice versa. 

While at the Velo Fellow, I ran into some people I knew so we sat outside and talked about the storm. What else was there to do? 500,000 people in Greenville were without power. We talked about the lack of preparation and the lack of knowing what was to come in the next few days.  We talked about Chimney Rock, Lake Lure, and Asheville in particular. We talked about the “areas getting hit hard.” Little did we know, Asheville was underwater and Chimney Rock was sitting in Lake Lure.

I feel bad for having so little concern and regard but how was I to know the extent of the situation at the time? These places, amongst many others in Western North Carolina, had no cell service. The news was not able to cover anything. Civilians were not able to post online, call for help, or share their experiences, nor would they if they could. It was fight or flight. It was survive or die.

The days following the hurricane brought more footage, information, and stories from first responders, business owners, and families. I have spent many hours reading, watching the news, and watching TikToks about the hurricane. Having grown up going to small mountain towns in North Carolina, I could not bear to see the destruction and loss of everything people worked so hard for. I felt as if a small part of my childhood was ripped away. In these parts of the Carolinas, there are many small businesses that people devote everything to. People work hard to be able to settle there and experience the beauty and solace that the Appalachian mountains have to offer. There are opportunities for arts and creativity. There is truly nothing like it. 

Asheville is where I was able to gain a lot of experiences and opportunities with music photography. Some of my favorite Asheville local bands include Puppy Chain, Fantomex, and Fliora. I had just been there a week prior to photograph a concert at the well-known Harrah’s Cherokee Center. I had plans to go back to the same venue on the evening of October 9th. A music venue I photographed one of my first big concerts at is destroyed with no current plans of rebuilding. Wow, talk about a punch in the gut. I am immensely happy the employees and the feral cats at the venue are okay. 

Salvage Station, The Orange Peel, The Grey Eagle, and Harrah’s Cherokee Center are a few music venues that have been greatly affected by the hurricane. Musicians that planned to come through the area to experience the artistic passion and creativity that Asheville is known for had to change their routes. Asheville-based musicians have nowhere to play, their equipment is ruined, and they have no idea when they’ll be able to take part in musical endeavors again. A band member from one of the bands I follow online lost all of their musical equipment and just announced they are no longer playing live shows. Two members lost their homes and have had to move out of state. A singer-songwriter from the area is putting music on hold due to not knowing his financial future. 

I am unable to express in words the exact hurt, loss, and destruction the Western Carolinas are going through as I type. I went up to Asheville to deliver supplies and lend a helping hand. It is all I could do to give back to a place I call my second home and a place that has fueled my passion for art and photography. There are families in the area that travel long ways by foot to receive water, food, clothes, etc. I was able to supply clothes, water, gatorades, and nonperishable foods.

In the neighboring town of Swannanoa, roads are nonexistent, cars are pushed against trees, and people are sitting on the sides of the roads with nowhere to go. I witnessed this first hand. In one community of 70+ homes, 11 are still standing. Many people were left with absolutely nothing and I do not say this lightly. Homes traveled down the flooding river just to be placed on an entire different street. I am unsure how these communities are going to find the mental, physical, and financial abilities to restart their lives and everything they've worked for. For instance, people in these communities don’t have flood insurance, why would they? These areas don’t get this type of weather. Their uninsured homes are lost indefinitely to a circumstance we had never even thought of. I am disheartened that Asheville is known for creativity, art, and music, yet all of it is on hold. We don’t know when concerts will pick back up and when artists will pick up a paintbrush again.

I was able to check on a friend of mine in Asheville right after the storm happened. He is in a band from the West Asheville area, whom I have had the great pleasure of photographing a few times before this event happened. I was lucky to get in touch with him as cell service was merely nonexistent. I was informed that his mother’s home completely flooded and he had been without water and power for three days. He told me “It came on so suddenly and so heavily. No one was prepared for all of this. I have not been able to get in contact with my sister and my friends. I am in absolute shock and disbelief. It doesn’t feel real at all.” He then showed me photos of cars underwater, a destroyed Wendy’s, and a river that tripled in size. 

This same friend of mine has multiple guitars he had not used in a while and is donating them to musicians who lost equipment in the storm. If this does not tell you about the integrity and passion that Asheville musicians hold, I do not know what will. They support each other, regardless of music genre and abilities. 

It has been a few weeks since Hurricane Helene turned the Western Carolinas upside down. What happens next, I am not sure. I know I am grateful to have power, food, water, and a charged phone. I am repeatedly reminded that people just an hour north of me do not have this luxury, and likely won’t for a while. It is so strange to me that my town of Greenville, SC is back to carrying on as normal (mostly) while many towns just a short drive north will be feeling the effects of this tragedy for a lifetime. 

This has hit close to home.

This IS close to home.

Since the morning of September 27th, I have learned a whole new meaning of gratitude. While I will be mourning the effects of Hurricane Helene for who knows how long, I have learned that power and a charged phone are unimportant when places you love are being destroyed and people are suffering. Even if it takes a while to do, the Western Carolina, Western North Carolina specifically, will rebuild. The area will find its beauty and creativity again, although in my mind it never left.

Audrey Wilson is a Master’s Applied Behavior Analysis student based in Greenville, SC. She works with individuals with special needs to develop functional and socially important skills. She is passionate about gun reform, gender equality, and providing adequate and meaningful opportunities for individuals with special needs. In her free time, she photographs concerts and writes for Fuel The Scene, a music publication based out of Charlotte, NC. She enjoys travel, music, baking, soccer, and caring for her reptiles.