Jason Hamad spent part of his 30s in a camper van, traveling from city to city as an independent music journalist. Finding secure and affordable lodging proved a recurring challenge – some of Hamad’s evenings ended with him sleeping in a gas station parking lot.
Life on the road put a similar strain on the artists that Hamad interviewed. For working-class musicians on multi-day tours, even a decent hotel proved a financial burden. They needed a low-cost boarding space – a place to decompress without worrying about their host peeping through a keyhole. Hamad wanted to provide that lodging.
Hamad’s idea became reality in 2023 with No Surf House, a nonprofit he co-founded with fellow Hudson High School graduate Alan Pendergrass. The name derives from Hamad’s former No Surf Music website, which itself paid homage to a locally famous 1978 track by the Euclid Beach Band.
The duo purchased and refurbished a three-story duplex in Brooklyn, near legacy music venues such as Mahall’s and the Happy Dog. The house features four guest rooms and six beds, along with laundry facilities and a small kitchen. Guests can hang in the “jam room” complete with piano, or spin records on a turntable upstairs. A television with a full streaming package goes largely unused, though the leave-a-book/take-a-book library remains popular, Hamad says.
A full-time resident of the house, Hamad doesn’t mind getting the occasional reveler eager to play piano at 4 a.m. Yet, most visiting artists prefer to relax, or eat a home cooked meal after weeks binging on fast food and rest stop snacks.
“People realizing they can come here and make it a profitable, fun stay is the key,” says Hamad. “It makes business sense (for musicians). We’re one little part of the equation, but we’re a big part of it as far as making Cleveland a viable place for these bands to play.”
Separating fact from fiction
In summer 2023, high-school friend Jane McMullen joined No Surf House, leveraging her hospitality and marketing background to fuel the nonprofit’s momentum. The three-person team relies on individual donors, as well as funding from entities like Cleveland creative arts grant maker Cuyahoga Arts & Culture (also a supporter of The Land).
While continuing to scout for a fundraising expert, the friends are busy busting myths about their musically-inclined clientele.
“People think about musicians like Clapton or Beyoncé, who don’t need anything like No Surf House,” Hamad says. “Or they’re just thinking about the starving artist who’s playing for tips on the street. They don’t think about the working-class people who do this as a job, but aren’t making bank.”
No Surf House currently offers all stays free of charge. The nonprofit hosts an open house each September to spread the word – a free community music festival slated for this summer will further strengthen outreach, says McMullen.
Funded by a grant from CAC, the event is slated for this summer at Halloran Park on West 117th Street. Featured artists will be the same independent acts that benefit from the nonprofit’s core services, she adds.
“So many people love live music, whether it’s huge artists or going to the dive bar,” McMullen says. “The idea is to share the story about working musicians. People don’t know the obstacles these artists are jumping over during tours.”
‘A dream concept’
British-born singer-songwriter Danni Nicholls can attest to some of these struggles. Nicholls leaves her current home in Nashville and tours for weeks at a time, maintaining a tricky balance between paid gigs and travel expenses. Housing comprises the biggest chunk of Nicholls’ on-the-road budget, she notes.
“I’m working hard for every penny – it’s hard to get guarantees (from venues), and it’s been hard since COVID to get people to come out,” says Nicholls. “So, you might go into a hole because you didn’t make more than what your hotel costs.”
Working solo, Nicholls is wary of staying with someone’s sketchy uncle, or walking into some other unknown situation. A chance meeting with Hamad at a Nashville music festival introduced her to No Surf House, a project she instantly embraced as a “dream concept.” Nicholls spent four days this fall at Hamad’s Brooklyn-based digs, enjoying the no-stress atmosphere and immediate sense of safety.
“There have been times I’ve had to ask over the mic if there’s a place to stay that night,” Nicholls says. “(No Surf House) is somewhere you can just hang out and make meals, because (the founders) know what life on the road is like. It’s just ‘Here is your room, now do as you please.’”
Hamad acts as guest concierge, pointing visiting musicians to nearby restaurants, thrift stores and vinyl shops. By providing a safe, community-driven space, No Surf House helps Cleveland stand out as an artist sanctuary when venue closures and economic hurdles are the norm, he says.
“Our goal is to get people to come back to Cleveland – we always want repeat customers,” Hamad says.
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