Andy the Doorbum
Under a bridge
Detroit
July 21, 2025
I’ve never seen anything like Andy the Doorbum. I likely never will again… unless he comes back to town and brings this carnival magic to another underpass somewhere in Detroit.
Friends in the know made it clear I had to be there. To see this touring entity that no one could really describe to me. Only repeating that name – Andy the Doorbum. (The name comes from his time working the door outside of a punk club in Charlotte, North Carolina.)
He drives around the country, bringing his touring live show to venues, festivals, wherever will have him. In Detroit, he requested to perform underneath a bridge with trains passing overhead.
You can’t drive underneath it; it’s been taken over by pedestrians and performers. He wanted the darkness and the secrecy, where maybe 50 people could enjoy the show. A bit further down the underpass, a small memorial for the death of a friend was taking place. I could see the candles and silhouettes of mourners but didn’t venture further. Felt too private.
When Andy the Doorbum started performing, I realized why it was so hard for people to describe. Since he was a kid, he’s been recording his own music. That was the fuel of this performance, which was all tied together and presented on a trailer with lights and sounds perfectly timed to go off with his one-man performance.
The best way I can describe the music is … Tom Waits, at his most experimental, reciting Shakespeare. Like some sort of punk rock sea shanty, stretched out and mutilated and turned into something genreless. It was a spoken word performance. Other times, it was very clearly a song. There's guitars and lyrics (often self-reflective; often anti-consumption; lyrically vague in the best way). All of it is droning in its own way and massive. It's haunting, like some figure from another time coming to you in a dream to warn you of something. But always with a sense of rhythm and musicality. It was never a chore to completely clock in and enjoy the music. I certainly don't mean to describe it that way, but it was in the best sense a fever dream.
It was also part puppetry as Andy ripped out hair and brains and other body parts from a replica of his own head. This sort of matched a theme I was picking up in the lyrics about self-expression and looking within ourselves for the people we are in a time of political upheaval and uncertainty in the rest of the world.
Andy -- the quiet guy I had met while he was setting up -- had fully transformed into Andy the Doorbum, in costume and song and dance.
Because it was outside on a hot summer night, hidden away in the darkness of this underpass, it felt like it was a dream. And that’s a wonderful effect to have on an audience and also speaks to the power of performing in alternative venues, or a complete lack thereof.
And in just about 30 minutes, it was over. I was left dazed. So was the rest of the audience. Except for the ones who had seen it before, proud of how they convinced others that “you’ve got to see this.” They weren’t lying.
I don’t know if it’ll ever be announced when Andy the Doorbum makes it to your town. But keep your eyes and ears open for any flyers or word of mouth.
Because you’ve got to see this.
