Arts Fishing Club grew out of a Midwestern songwriter's move to Nashville, building a folk-rock sound shaped by road miles and porch shows.
From road maps to stages
What began as a solo project has become a tight band that leans on acoustic grit, steady kick, and close harmonies.
They are known for taking shows into living rooms and even doing a bicycle run between small towns, which still colors their pacing and banter.
Expect story-first songs, a patient build, and a few spots where the crowd carries the hook.
What might get played
Likely picks include
Ground Up and
Icarus, plus one newer tune road-tested for the first time this year.
Crowds skew mixed, from local songwriters and college radio fans to couples who like roots music, and the room tends to get quiet when verses land.
Trivia heads might notice the minimalist percussion rig and the way the bass player doubles on a small synth for low swells between choruses.
Set choices and production notes here are educated guesses drawn from past gigs rather than any official source.
The little things fans notice around an Arts Fishing Club night
Quiet respect, loud choruses
You see flannels, vintage denim, well-worn boots, and a few wide-brim hats, but also plenty of folks in simple tees fresh from work.
People tend to hum along under their breath in verse one and save the chorus for a clear, shared voice.
Between sets, conversations drift toward road trips, trail days, and which local coffee spot sells the best beans.
Tangible keepsakes, not trinkets
Merch leans tactile, with soft tees, a hand-drawn fish logo, a small-run vinyl, and maybe a lyric zine at the table.
When
Ground Up shows up, the loudest sing is usually on the title phrase, and the band often cuts instruments for a bar to let it ring.
Photography is casual and polite, with people snapping a quick photo then putting phones down to listen.
After the last chord, the line for a signature feels neighborly, and the band chats like hosts who remember where you drove in from.
Strings, breaths, and the steady sway: Arts Fishing Club onstage
Built to breathe
Vocals sit warm and clear, with a lead that favors plain talk phrasing and two voices stacking simple thirds for lift.
Arrangements start sparse, often just acoustic guitar and a pulse on kick, then add bass, electric glints, and a touch of fiddle to widen the room.
They like mid-tempo grooves that let words land, then they flip to double-time strums for choruses so the hook pops without shouting.
Small choices, big feel
A small but telling habit is their use of alternate tunings that leave open strings ringing, which makes a single guitar feel like two.
The drummer plays with brushes or hot rods, keeping space for the vocal, while the bassist shoots for round notes that glue the chords.
Now and then, a song gets a new intro live, like a droning one-chord vamp that teases the melody before the form drops.
Lights tend to stay warm and amber with a few slow sweeps, serving the music rather than driving it.
Kindred road-mates: Arts Fishing Club's extended crew
If campfire hooks are your thing
Fans of
Caamp will connect with the woody strum patterns and unpolished harmony lines.
If you like the big communal swells and earnest hooks of
The Head and the Heart, this show hits a similar lane but with more dirt under the nails.
Mt. Joy overlap comes from the jam-friendly outros and a willingness to stretch a bridge without losing the song.
Neighbors on the touring map
For a faster, pick-heavy side of folk-rock,
Trampled by Turtles fans will hear kinship in the drive and the fiddle-forward moments.
All four acts draw crowds who listen first and sing second, and they value songs that feel lived-in more than slick.
The overlap is less about genre tags and more about a shared taste for melody that breathes, stories that travel, and beats that move without rushing.
So if your playlists swing from porch folk to festival-friendly rock, you are in the right pocket.
