What Utah bands NEED to know (ft. Cecret Souls’ Pepper Rose)

Pepper Rose didn’t set out to become the voice of a fractured Utah music scene – but somebody has to be! Through late-night gigs, post-burnout reinvention, and a deep belief in community over cliques, she’s stitching together something Utah’s music scene has long needed: connection. Not just between genres or cities, but between artists and authenticity.

In a state where self-promotion still feels taboo and vulnerability can feel like a weakness, Pepper is proof that you don’t need to follow a formula to make an impact. You just need to tell the truth and lean into yourself.

Chapters

Ozzy Osbourne was never “safe” – Utah musicians should take risks, too

If you’re a musician in Utah, you’ve likely noticed the ripple effect Ozzy Osbourne’s passing left in its wake. It wasn’t just another celebrity death post in your feed. It hit something real. There’s a lot to learn in that raw feeling – about artistry, identity, risk, and what it really means to be heard in a place like Utah.

In our recent conversation, Utah artist Pepper Rose shared something small – but telling. Her nickname in high school? “Ozzy.” A name carried from middle school scribbles in yearbooks all the way through teenage identity crises. Why? Because she got her hands on Paranoid early, and something about Ozzy’s chaos made sense.

“He was a really real individual. Just yelling and screaming and being an artist,” she says of Ozzy Osbourne, with a clear feeling of deep respect.

So what does that mean for musicians trying to build a career (or even just a crowd) here? It means you don’t need to make your pain palatable. You don’t need to write “hopeful” lyrics just because someone told you darkness doesn’t sell. You don’t need to fake it.

Ozzy didn’t. And it made him an icon fondly remembered by millions.

“You just can’t be afraid… to bite a bat, whatever that means for your music career,” Pepper says.

Your art might weird some people out. That’s okay. Your sound might not be for everyone. That’s exactly the point. If you’re leading with authenticity and honesty though, you’re going to find your crowd. And they’re going to be superfans.

Ozzy’s evolution

Ozzy also didn’t go it alone. He collaborated. He built bridges. And he invented and reinvented himself both inside and outside of Black Sabbath – becoming a recognizable brand in his own right.

So if you’ve been a pop-punk kid and now you’re writing folk rock: Do it. If you started as a solo act and now you want to scream in a metalcore band: Do it. People change and evolve and grow – so if you’re being authentic, your art should be, too.

What today’s musicians can learn from Ozzy

  • Audit your lyrics. Are they honest? Are they saying what you really feel – or what you think people want to hear?
  • Say something risky live. Tell a story on stage you’ve been afraid to share. Then watch what happens. Vulnerability builds loyalty.
  • Collaborate outside your comfort zone. Ozzy did it. You can too. Genre-mixing builds muscle and connection.
  • Don’t wait to be “ready.” Ozzy bit the bat mid-set. Make the record. Book the show. Rebrand. Send the pitch. You’ll never be fully prepared. Do it anyway.

Collaboration is key – Utah musicians shouldn’t go it alone

Utah’s music scene has never been easy to define. Or navigate. Or break into.

Between the mountains, the sprawl, the legacy of underground DIY culture, and the lingering cultural conservatism, building momentum here often feels like swimming upstream with a drum kit on your back.

But if there’s one truth that came through loud and clear during my conversation with Pepper Rose, it’s this: You don’t build a music career here alone. You build it with others.

And if you’re not actively collaborating, you’re not just missing opportunities – you’re stunting your own growth.

Back in the day, Salt Lake wasn’t the hyper-connected hub it’s slowly becoming. As Pepper puts it:

“Salt Lake and Ogden were very separate. Provo and Salt Lake were different universes. People were in their cliques. Punk didn’t talk to metal. Indie didn’t talk to country.”

Add a global pandemic, shut-down venues, and algorithmic isolation on top of that? Yeah. Collaboration nearly died. And many bands disappeared altogether.

Utah musicians who get it

But here’s the good news: it’s coming back. And you should be part of it.

Across the state, we’re starting to see signs of something better. Pepper gave shoutouts to real examples:

  • Sarah DeGraw and Morgan Snow’s crew are pooling their crowds and co-headlining state room shows.
  • Royal Bliss consistently brings in younger acts and legacy players alike (shoutout to their American Hitman shredder).
  • Acacia Ridge collaborated with Sarah Gibson – two artists from very different ends of the genre pool.
  • Cherry Thomas is creating showcase spaces where multiple artists can shine together.

“They’re drawing each other’s crowds together to pack some of our larger independent venues,” Pepper noted. That’s the kind of cross-pollination that keeps a scene alive.

Integrating collaboration into your career and life

  • Feature another local artist on your next single. Seriously, just reach out. Trade verses. Split the beat. Co-write a chorus.
  • Book a mixed-genre showcase. You don’t have to play with the same 3 bands every time. Folk-punk next to alt-R&B? Do it.
  • Trade venues. If your band pulls a crowd in Provo, book a co-show in Ogden with an Ogden local. Flip the favor next month.
  • Shoot a live session together. Film it. Release it. Tag everyone. Let each other’s fans discover new sounds.
  • Create a shared merch item. Collaborative t-shirts, posters, even patches can move units and spread the word.
  • Open your stage. You’ve got a feature slot? Bring someone new into the fold. Elevate someone you believe in.

Bridging the divide – how to connect Utah’s music scenes

If you’re a musician in Utah and you’re not thinking about how to connect the scene, then you’re not thinking big enough.

That was the clear takeaway from my recent sit-down with Pepper Rose, who’s spent the last few years not just playing shows but actively weaving threads between Salt Lake, Provo, Ogden, and beyond.

Truthfully, Utah doesn’t have one unified “scene.” It has pockets. Islands. Micro-scenes that often don’t know (or care) what the others are doing.

And in a post-pandemic, algorithm-choked world where every show feels like a financial loss and every artist is running uphill against platform noise, the assessment is blunt:

If we don’t start connecting the scene, the scene won’t survive.

Pre-2020, it was already hard enough to merge scenes that were divided by geography, social cliques, genre boundaries, and LDS vs non-LDS cultural currents. Then the pandemic came—and drove us deeper into our silos.

But now? Now, we have to reach across.

Salt Lake’s changing demographics

Because Salt Lake’s population is aging. The “young crowd” doesn’t have cars, doesn’t live close to venues, and doesn’t have the disposable income they used to. New residents from out of state (yes, trust-fund transplants from LA and Tennessee) are filling venues – but they want diversity. Genre fusion. Something new.

“It’s not just your friends at your show anymore,” Pepper says. “People are moving here and expect to be entertained.”

How to build a unified scene

  • Follow outside your bubble. If you’re a Provo indie kid, follow Ogden metal. If you’re in Salt Lake hip hop, check out Logan folk nights. Use Instagram to listen, not just post.
  • Create shared discovery hubs. Pepper created Suite J – an Instagram account – to surface bands from different corners of the state. You can do the same: repost lineups, playlist across genres, shout out unfamiliar bands after shows.
  • Think beyond friend groups. That DIY basement scene you grew up in? It can’t sustain a whole music economy anymore. Invite new artists. Seek out different crowds.
  • Anchor yourself to indie venues. Venues like Velour need Salt Lake bands to survive – and vice versa. Live Nation and Smith Entertainment Group are gunning for our remaining independent spaces. If we don’t stand up for them, they’ll vanish.
  • Meet the new crowd. Those fans at your show? They might’ve just moved here. They don’t care if you’ve been playing Kilby for ten years. They’re looking for impact. Don’t phone it in.
  • Start cross-city projects. You’re a Salt Lake rapper? Collab with a Provo alt-pop act. You’re in Ogden ska? Invite a Logan singer-songwriter to open. Each city has gold – start mining it.

How Utah musicians can balance creativity with mass appeal

Here’s a hard pill for every Utah musician chasing streams, fans, or festival slots: If you’re bending your sound to fit a formula, you’re not standing out – you’re blending in. That’s the fastest way to disappear in a market already saturated with formulaic sound and style.

That doesn’t mean you have to reject accessibility or resist mass appeal altogether. But it does mean learning how to balance artistic instinct with audience awareness – without becoming a ProvoCore clone or selling your soul for 15 seconds of TikTok fame.

The between creative freedom and commercial viability is one Pepper Rose knows intimately.

Pepper’s been watching the scene a long time. She’s seen the same mistakes repeat:

“Even in the really great feedback we got at the Velour Battle, it was all about dynamics and fitting a vibe.”

And while that feedback was helpful, it highlighted a deeper issue: Too many Utah bands are shaping their sound around someone else’s expectations.

Instead of asking: “What makes us stand out?” They’re asking: “How do we sound more like what’s working?”

The changing music landscape

There’s also the reality of playing the game. Shorter songs. Less experimental intros. Cleaner production. Pepper admits:

“We’ve been chasing that hit… Simplifying things… Keeping songs under three minutes.”

It’s not because she doesn’t love chaos or rock-opera interludes (she does). It’s because she understands that building an audience starts with getting them in the door. That means giving them something they can connect with fast.

But – and this part is critical – that doesn’t mean you abandon your voice.

You don’t start with the algorithm. You start with the emotion. Then shape the delivery to fit where it needs to land. In Pepper’s words:

“Just do what feels right to you – and then later, see where it fits.”

How to balance creativity with mass appeal as a musician

  • Audit your last three releases. Ask yourself: Where was I copying someone else? Where was I truly me?
  • Write three songs with different intentions. One for the stage. One for social. One just for you.
  • Record two versions of the same track. One raw and long. One tight and radio-cut. Test both.
  • Let go of genre purity. You are not indie-folk-post-rock-core. You’re a person. You can defy definition.
  • Simplify strategically. If you’re cutting a bridge or trimming time, do it with intent – not fear.
  • Build variety into your brand. Show audiences different sides of you. They’ll stick around longer.

Is Utah Accessible? Playing shows in Utah as a new or small-time artist

Booking a show in Utah can feel impossible when you’re just starting out.

Pepper Rose has done it all – DIY shows, big-ticket venues, corner gigs at coffee shops. And when asked how accessible performing actually is for newcomers in 2025, she didn’t sugarcoat it:

“Unless you feel like you might die unless you get these emotions off your chest… I don’t know if I’d recommend doing it.”

In other words, performing music in Utah can be brutal.

We often frame “accessibility” as a budget issue. And sure, dropping $500 on a venue fee when you’re broke is rough. But true accessibility in Utah’s music scene isn’t just about cost. It’s about pathways.

And they’re here – you just have to look around a bit. Pepper got one of her first gigs through the Salt Lake Public Library’s live music series. Not a trendy bar. Not a headline at Kilby. A library.

“There are so many small music series looking out for new talent,” she said. “That’s where you build your experience… what you don’t want is to succeed too fast and not be prepared.”

What about “exposure?”

You’ve probably heard the rage posts: “Don’t ever play for exposure.” “If they don’t pay, don’t play.” And yes, musicians should be paid. But Pepper offers a more nuanced take:

“Exposure is a currency. So is networking. So is experience. You have to diversify.”

Think of early shows like startup investments. You’re building visibility. Building confidence. Learning how to bomb on stage and come back stronger.

Just make sure the exposure leads somewhere. If it’s not feeding your next move, it’s probably not worth it. A lot of predatory “music industry professionals” prey on wide-eyed beginners.

Pepper shared the story of a young band paying $600/month to a manager. It was hard to know whether the band was really getting its money’s worth. But Pepper made it clear that if you don’t have $600 a month lying around, you can still make waves.

You just need a team. A community. People who trade skills, show up for each other, and have clarity around specific goals. It’s amazing what people will do when they feel valued, are a part of something bigger, and have clear expectations.

Where new musicians can start making waves today

  • Spy Hop’s 801 Sessions: For teens and early 20-somethings, this nonprofit gives you tools, mentors, and opportunities to perform and produce.
  • Rock Camp SLC: A gender-inclusive music program that helps young people grow in community and confidence.
  • Libraries, Farmers Markets, Art Strolls: They all need live music. Great places to start.
  • Coffee shops and house shows: Still alive. Still accessible. Still great for growth.

Pepper Rose’s musical journey – and what Utah musicians can learn from it

You’ve seen her name on flyers, heard her voice on local bills, maybe caught her band Cecret Souls at a packed show or on YouTube. But Pepper Rose isn’t just another name in the Utah scene – she’s a case study in how to build something meaningful, authentic, and loved.

Her journey wasn’t linear – nor was it easy. But maybe it can make yours a little smoother.

Pepper grew up in Salt Lake. Went to West High. Loitered near the Dead Goat Saloon and stared into the windows of the Zephyr Club, wondering what it would be like to be on stage.

“I was in choir, but shy. Never took lessons. I just watched and paid attention.”

She didn’t grow up with money. Didn’t have early access to gear or training. Music stayed on the back burner while she knocked out college, then grad school, then a stint in Boston where she finally heard something different:

“Out there, people asked, ‘Why not you?’ That was the turning point.”

She started practicing guitar alone in a lab. 15 minutes a day.

The birth of Pepper Rose

When she got back to Utah in 2014, she walked into an open mic, wrote Pepper Rose on the sign-up sheet, and something shifted.

“I always imagined I’d name a daughter Pepper and she’d do all these cool things… then I realized I could be that person.”

That’s how it started: library shows. Coffee shop gigs. Convincing neighbors to form a band. Performing Nirvana covers off-key.

“Full cringe. Looking back now, I used to be mortified. Now I know: That’s how you start.”

Eventually, she helped form Spirit Machines, a band that flirted with major attention – and nearly signed a record deal. But the pressure, misalignment, and behind-the-scenes stress created a “meteoric implosion,” in her words.

The birth of Cecret Souls

That breakdown became the birth of Cecret Souls – the band she now runs with more clarity, ownership, and intention.

“Before, I let others drive. Now, I’m asking: ‘What do I want? What do I actually enjoy?’”

Today, she’s rebuilding – not from scratch, but from a much stronger foundation. One rooted in joy, resilience, and realism.

She still has a day job. Still collaborates with her longtime partner Dave (who handles sound and structure). She still shows up at DIY shows and big venues alike.

And, like all of us, she’s still growing.

If you think you’re too old, too broke, too untrained, too late, or too cringey to start a music career in Utah, Pepper would probably beg to differ.

“Success doesn’t happen overnight. But I’ve seen people go viral. I’ve watched friends blow up, burn out, bounce back. You never know which of your gigs will be the one that shifts everything.”

She name-checks Shannon Blake. Lindsey Stirling. Artists who made it by staying weird, staying local, and staying true.

And that’s the biggest takeaway.

“What you’ll find in all of them is that they stayed true to who they are.”

What Pepper Rose’s journey can tell musicians about making waves in music

  • Pick a name. Not just for branding – but to step into who you want to be.
  • Play the library gig. Or the open mic. Or your neighbor’s porch. Start.
  • Embrace the cringe. It’s how you learn. You’ll do better next time.
  • Practice 15 minutes a day. Don’t romanticize hustle. Just show up. Daily.
  • Build a team. Find a sound person. A friend with a camera. Someone who cares.
  • Own your failures. They’ll teach you more than any TikTok hack ever could.
  • Ask what you want. Not what “the band” wants. Not what the algorithm wants. You.

Marketing music in Utah and beyond

If you’re an artist in Utah and the word marketing makes your skin crawl, you’re not alone.

Pepper Rose gets it. She’s lived it. And she’ll be the first to tell you that for most local musicians, marketing feels like a dirty word – part ego trip, part algorithmic black hole.

But if your music never reaches the people who need it, what’s the point?

That’s the mental shift Pepper is making – and it’s one every Utah musician must make too. Because in 2025, writing a great song isn’t enough. You also have to be your own label, strategist, and street team. (Unless you have loads of money, I guess!)

Utah musicians have a unique challenge: a culture that subtly discourages self-promotion.

“Even in rebellion, there’s this code of humility,” Pepper explained. “Trying too hard is cringe. Being seen trying is even worse.”

That leads to a paradox. The artists willing to market themselves often get side-eyed. And the ones too scared to market never build the audience they deserve.

Pepper’s advice?

“You have to give yourself permission to be visible. It’s not about ego. It’s about connection.”

Pepper’s previous band Spirit Machines had a moment. Tool shared their Zober video and traffic exploded. Luckily, their drummer was a marketing specialist – and had a full sales funnel ready.

“He had it dialed: landing pages, merch upsells, fan clubs. It worked. We sold thousands of CDs.”

A brief history of digital marketing

When digital targeting was easier (pre–Apple/Facebook/Google war – or as many of us in marketing might know it: before App Tracking Transparency and IDFA deprecation), their ads found true superfans. But once the rules changed?

“It got harder. And honestly, scarier. Because now it feels like your friends are seeing the ads.”

And that’s the part most artists choke on. But, as Pepper tells it, you can’t let that stop you from increasing your visibility and connecting with those who love your music.

What musicians and bands should do for marketing

Here’s what’s worth experimenting with in music marketing:

  • Shortform > Longform. It used to be about full cinematic music videos. Now it’s all about clips, reels, repurposed content.
  • Strategic Content Days. Show up camera-ready, film multiple outfits, create micro-content to spread out over time.
  • Concept-Driven Promos. From green screen experiments to mashups to zines and tapes, make marketing fun, not formulaic.
  • Platform-Specific Thinking. If you’re still only on Facebook, you probably need to branch out. Gen Z is much more likely to be on TikTok, or even Instagram.
  • Realism Over Romance. Streaming royalties aren’t much. But directing fans to platforms like Spotify or Tidal does create passive income. If you can grow your audience there, it might ultimately be worth more than trying to get by with live shows and merch (though certainly not as fun).

Actionable marketing takeaways for Utah bands:

  • Define your platform audience. Facebook = older fans, longform engagement. Instagram = visual aesthetic, stories, quick hits. TikTok = humor, vulnerability, repetition. YouTube = live sessions, reactions, interviews.
  • Batch-create content. Dedicate a weekend to filming multiple looks and settings. Prioritize vertical video. Cut your long videos into bite-sized reels
  • Get over the cringe. Post before you feel ready. Don’t aim for viral – aim for valuable.
  • Build marketing into your art. Create visual concepts for every release. Offer fan interaction: raffles, choose-your-own-adventure videos, remixable content. Physical + digital combos (tapes, zines, QR-coded merch)
  • Steal like an artist. Watch what’s working for others. Pepper follows creators like Die Shiny, Shannon Blake, and others pushing boundaries. Take notes. Iterate.
  • Learn more about music marketing in our breakout article.

How music releases and the band-fan relationship is changing

Utah musicians should understand: You don’t just release a song or album anymore – you take people on an entire journey.

That story isn’t just the final track. It’s the build-up, the behind-the-scenes, the rehearsals, the ugly drafts, the TikTok cuts, the test videos, the version you almost scrapped. And if you’re not thinking about all of that when you plan a release?

You’re seriously behind.

Pepper Rose knows the pressure firsthand. With Cecret Souls gearing up to release their long-awaited album Secrets, she’s not just thinking about the songs. She’s juggling presales, vinyl costs, content calendars, and how to actually get anyone to care.

Exchanging albums for singles?

Pepper’s sitting on a lot of material – some of it written with Dave back in 2020. But with vinyl costs climbing and attention spans shrinking, the strategy is shifting:

“I think we’re just going to launch one song at a time… but maybe do a presale of the whole album to raise capital.”

She’s not alone. In 2025, the full album drop often gets buried. But spacing out singles gives you multiple opportunities to engage your audience – and test what hits.

That can be good when there are questions about what songs to lead with and what songs to have follow after. If you don’t see results one way, you’ll always have a chance to try it another way.

Pepper also fully understands that these days, an album release is not when marketing or engagement kicks in. Instead, an album’s entire development is a marketing and engagement opportunity for bands.

“People love the process,” Pepper said. “Like ‘Get Ready With Me’ – but for albums.”

Content creation tips for bands

  • Film rehearsals. Not polished takes – just moments. Your future self will thank you.
  • Dedicate “content days.” Get camera-ready. Wear five outfits. Batch create.
  • Make funny stuff. Pepper shouts out No Such Animal and Ideal Horizon for blending memes with music.
  • Use your band’s strengths. Let your “executor” handle the posts. Let your “creator” draft the captions. Don’t make one person do it all.
  • Try unexpected formats. Pepper’s planning zines, tapes, green screen video kits. “We want to make things people can hold while they watch the digital stuff.”

Finding local music is hard – but worth the effort and support

You might love live music – hitting up Velour or Quarters or The Cache. You might even follow 20 local bands. But the minute you step outside your genre, city, or social bubble, you’re lost.

I’ll be honest with you: I hadn’t heard of Backseat Lovers until I was researching Utah’s most popular bands for an earlier article. I hadn’t heard many of the names that Pepper mentioned during our interview.

And that’s the problem.

“Even I get stuck seeing the same 100 bands,” says Pepper Rose, who actively trains her algorithm to only feed her local music.

The metal kids are over here. The indie-pop darlings are over there. Provo won’t drive to Salt Lake. Salt Lake won’t drive to Ogden. And Logan? Feels like another planet entirely.

Even our record shops and venues – Raunch Records, Heavy Metal Shop, Aces High, Diabolical Records, The Beastro – are brilliant, but largely siloed. Each has their own culture. Their own crew. Their own “scene within a scene.”

And, sure, that’s okay. But it’s also the reason most Utah music never breaks its own borders.

Suite J – an online hub for local Utah music

Pepper’s answer? Build a local music hub on Instagram.

“We used to have a physical space, Suite J – now, it’s a page. A place to share what bands are doing, where they’re playing, and help people actually find each other.”

She trained her Instagram feed to only show local bands. She interacts and reposts stories – boosting female-fronted acts, especially. And she makes her phone a filter – not for validation, but for discovery.

“If I’m gonna be addicted to my phone,” she says, “I might as well make it positive.”

The biggest hurdle isn’t Instagram’s algorithm. Or the lack of money. Or even the distance between scenes. It’s insecurity, says Pepper. Everyone’s scared to say the wrong thing to the wrong person. Scared to stick their head up.

That fear leads to clique culture. The same bills, fans, and songs in the same rooms. But Pepper has a vision:

“Imagine if Pib’s Exchange sold only local band tees. Imagine if the teens were actually finding out about our music – not just Pink Floyd or My Chemical Romance.”

It sounds wild. But it’s not impossible. It just needs community support and buy-in.

Here’s how to support local music:

  • Follow Local Curators. Start with @suitej.slc on Instagram. Then follow every band she shares.
  • Repost Local Gigs. Even if you can’t go or don’t know them. In fact, especially then. Visibility = support.
  • Go to the show alone. Don’t wait for your friends. That’s how you meet people and make new friends!
  • Buy the merch. Even if you’re not at the show. Even if it’s not your genre.
  • Cross-pollinate. Book bands from other cities. Mix genres. Co-host playlists.
  • Normalize the local scene. Wear the t-shirt. Talk about the band. Treat them like they matter.
  • Build your own list. Make a personal “Bands to Watch” and share it like it’s gospel.

Privilege and diversity – how Utahns can build a more inclusive state

Pepper Rose has what is likely a super unpopular opinion when it comes to diversity and inclusion:

“What’s missing in all of this,” she says, “is praise for guys – white guys – who are doing it right. Who use their position to elevate others.”

And while it might feel uncomfortable or even controversial to say that aloud in 2025, Pepper doesn’t flinch from it.

Because the truth is that the only way we build a diverse and inclusive music community in Utah is if everyone participates. Especially those with privilege.

According to Pepper, one of the most common blockers to building a better scene isn’t hate – it’s fear. Fear of saying the wrong thing. Or being judged. Fear of rejection.

“People are afraid of each other. Afraid to step outside their clique. Afraid of getting shushed at Velour. I’ve done it. I’ve said the wrong thing. It’s scary.”

But that fear can’t be the excuse anymore. Not if we actually want progress.

And to be clear, marginalized groups and people don’t owe you comfort. But they still deserve your support. There will almost certainly be difficult discussions. But discomfort is a prerequisite to change. Failure is a prerequisite to growth.

As noted before: Embrace the cringe and evolve. That’s how we build better, more cohesive communities.

How to use your privilege authentically, not performatively

  • Diversity isn’t about erasure – it’s about amplification.
  • Don’t be ashamed of your identity. Be accountable with it.
  • Elevate marginalized voices by making space, not taking over.
  • Don’t let fear of getting it wrong stop you from reaching out.
  • Your discomfort isn’t oppression – it’s part of learning.
  • If you mess up, own it. But don’t disappear. Repair.
  • Keep asking: “Who’s missing from this lineup? From this room?”

Making mistakes (or worse) in the era of Cancel Culture

Here’s a hard truth for Utah musicians: If you’re visible, vulnerable, or vocal (the things we’ve said you should be striving for to set yourself apart and find your superfans) – you’re going to mess up eventually. Maybe even repeatedly.

And in today’s hyper-connected, nothing-ever-dies world, that mistake might follow you forever. The internet doesn’t forget. Screenshots don’t expire.

We’re all walking a tightrope. We want to speak up, but we’re afraid to say the wrong thing. We want to grow, but we’re terrified that growth might expose who we used to be.

But that’s all the more reason to create space – not just for accountability, but for reform.

“There’s got to be a way back,” says Pepper Rose. “There has to be room for redemption.”

She’s not minimizing harm or giving abusers a free pass. She’s pointing to something deeper: Our scene cannot heal – or grow – without a shared framework for accountability, self-awareness, and forgiveness.

When allegations and tensions surrounded Logan’s WhySound venue, responses varied. But Pepper found something important in their public statement:

“They said: ‘We’re taking time to understand.‘ That doesn’t erase harm – but it’s a start.”

In a world obsessed with instant reactions, time is revolutionary. In Pepper’s eyes, sometimes, the most responsible thing a person – or a venue, or a scene – can say is “I don’t know yet. But I’m trying to find out.”

So what should you do when you mess up? Here are three things that I think are essential:

  1. Apologize without excuses. Be specific. Name the harm. Mean it.
  2. Promise not to repeat it – and mean that, too.
  3. Show how you’ll change. What processes are changing? What personal growth are you undertaking?

Utah’s music scene and its toxic relationship with alcohol

One of the hidden issues that fuels problems in Utah’s music scene, Pepper says, is that so many music spaces are built around alcohol.

“As artists, most of our paid opportunities involve selling booze. That creates a dangerous dynamic.”

Utah’s unique cultural dynamics create a layered tension around alcohol. For many who grew up in the dominant LDS culture, leaving it means stepping into uncharted territory –often without healthy role models for drinking or partying.

For many ex-Mormons, especially, drinking isn’t just recreational – it’s identity-building. When people leave the church – or grapple with it as teens – they want to understand who they are outside of the church. That requires exploration and experimentation – which includes alcohol. And they often don’t have any role models in their life who are healthy examples of light or social drinkers.

A structural problem

Add all this up and, even in all ages spaces, you’ve got a recipe where alcohol isn’t just present – it’s central. It’s not an exaggeration to say that Utah’s counter-culture has some extremely toxic problems with sex, drugs, and rock’n’roll.

It’s a structural issue – one that impacts everyone, especially when lines get blurry and boundaries get crossed.

It creates barriers to building a cohesive, supportive, and vibrant music scene as well:

  • It divides the scene. Many LDS or sober fans avoid bars entirely. That cuts off entire demographics of potential audiences and artists.
  • It excludes youth. Want to build a long-term fanbase? You can’t do that if under-21s can’t attend.
  • It’s tied to risk. Alcohol can amplify conflict, harassment, and regret – especially in an era where we’re already reckoning with cancel culture and safety concerns.
  • It burns out musicians. Night after night in bar culture makes being a successful musician harder, not easier. Especially if you lack self-control in alcohol-fueled environments.

How Pepper is fighting for change – and you can too

Pepper understands this and is pushing for more alcohol-free music opportunities. She’s even talked to city officials about it. If we’re serious about safety and equity in our scene, we have to address how that scene is structured.

How to build a safer music scene in Utah:

  • Create more sober-friendly spaces. House shows, libraries, breweries that don’t require alcohol purchase, and daytime events are a great start.
  • Talk to local leaders. Pepper’s even approached mayors about public funding or permitting for all-ages venues and non-alcoholic spaces.
  • Rethink what community looks like. We don’t need to reject alcohol wholesale – but we do need to stop centering it as the price of admission.
  • Build cross-scene bridges. LDS bands and non-LDS bands don’t have to stay separate. But it takes effort, trust-building, and shared goals.
  • Lead with accountability. Whether it’s about drinking, performing, or mistakes offstage – show up with humility and self-awareness.

Personal accountability is key to success in music and life

Guess what? If you want to be successful as a musician, you really need to be successful as a human. The drunken party rockstar is a myth. Even the ones who go hard and live the lifestyle have to walk the straight and narrow in the other parts of their life.

“To be successful, you kind of have to have your shit together,” says Pepper.

In today’s hyper-visible, hyper-critical music climate, artists can’t afford to coast on vibes. If you want longevity in Utah’s scene (or any scene), you need to build muscles in self-awareness, boundary setting, and hard conversations.

Pepper offers a personal example: Someone close to her scene died in a drunk driving accident. That moment forced a hard reckoning – not just with grief, but with complicity.

“I had to ask myself – what is my relationship with alcohol? Who am I letting drive into the night? What am I responsible for?”

With scandals, allegations, and inaction, the local music scene definitely doesn’t have it all together all the time. It’s important we regularly self-reflect about who we are and what we’re enabling. That dictates what kind of scene we exist in.

As Pepper notes herself:

We’re not in some dark corner of SLC Punk anymore. We can’t keep drinking away our potential. Work within the system – or burn out fighting it. The choice is yours.

So how can we build a better, safer music scene? It starts with each of us individually.

Here’s how to build a safer music scene:

  • Audit your scene. Who’s around you? What are the norms? Are they serving your growth – or slowly poisoning it?
  • Be the one who speaks up. Staying silent isn’t neutrality – it’s participation.
  • Don’t expect to be understood. “Everyone’s understanding can’t be your goal,” Pepper says. “You’ve got to do what’s right, even if others don’t get it.”
  • Lead by example. Practice humility. Own your mistakes. Apologize. Change your behavior. And, yes, hold others to that same standard.
  • Stay future-focused. Utah’s music scene doesn’t have to repeat the same cycles. But it will – unless someone breaks them.

Catch Cecret Souls – and any local Utah music – in person and online

Cecret Souls isn’t just Pepper Rose’s next act. Much like Ozzy Osbourne was, it’s a permission slip for musicians to evolve, for fans to re-engage, and for Utah’s local music scene to take itself in new directions.

“We’re releasing new music. We’re doing new stuff,” Pepper says with a grounded sense of urgency. “But more than anything — get out to a local show, or at least give yourself permission to engage online.”

Utah is having a moment. The scene is buzzing. Local talent is popping off – on playlists, on TikTok, and in venues small and large. But Pepper reminds us that visibility alone doesn’t build a scene. Intentional support does.

So what can you do?

  • Stream the singles when they drop.
  • Show up to a show – even if it’s just once.
  • Follow a band you’ve never heard of.
  • Share a song, a video, or a post that moved you.

Pepper said it best:

“It’s your chance to get in on bands when they’re just starting. And that’s really exciting.”

Cecret Souls and Pepper Rose are signs that the local scene is leveling up – spiritually, intellectually, sonically, and socially. Here’s your chance to be part of it – before everyone else catches on.

Frequently asked questions (FAQ) about Utah’s music scene

How do I stand out as a musician in Utah without selling out?

Start by asking: Am I writing what I really feel – or what I think will “work”? Pepper Rose says it best: “Audit your lyrics. Are they honest?” Standing out means taking risks. Don’t chase trends. Don’t neuter your sound for a playlist. If your art feels weird, too dark, or too raw – that might be your superpower. “You just can’t be afraid… to bite a bat, whatever that means for your music career.” Start with emotion. Shape for platform later.

Is it okay to play shows “for exposure”?

Yes, if it’s part of a strategy. Exposure is a currency. So is experience, community, and cash. If a show helps you grow your audience, build confidence, or make connections? Play it. If it drains your energy and doesn’t move you forward? Skip it. Pepper’s rule: “Diversify your currency.”

Where can new Utah musicians play their first shows?

Forget big venues. Start small. Think Salt Lake Public Library music series, Spy Hop 801 Sessions, farmers markets and art strolls, coffee shops, and house shows. These gigs are where you build skills, fans, and confidence.

How do I find other musicians to collaborate with in Utah?

Start by getting outside your comfort zone. DM a band in a different genre. Offer a feature. Book a mixed-genre showcase (folk + hip hop + ska = gold). Trade cities: you book them in Logan, they book you in Ogden. Follow curators like @suitej.slc and discover bands you’ve never heard of. Collaboration isn’t just connection – it’s survival in Utah’s fragmented scene.

How do I market my music without being cringe?

Make marketing part of the art. Pepper’s advice? “You have to give yourself permission to be visible. It’s not about ego. It’s about connection.” Record rehearsals, use “content days” to batch vertical videos, make weird stuff (memes, mashups, zines, tapes), build visual themes around each release, and repost local shows – even if you can’t go. The cringe fades. The connection lasts.

How do I build a bigger fanbase when every Utah scene feels so cliquey?

Start connecting the dots. Most Utah “scenes” are bubbles. Follow bands outside your genre and city, invite guests from Provo, Logan, or Ogden, shout out unfamiliar bands on your story, book shared shows across cities, wear local merch like it’s your favorite headliner. If we don’t build bridges, the scene won’t survive.

What’s the deal with alcohol and Utah’s music scene?

It’s complicated. Most paid shows happen at bars. But that excludes under-21 fans, LDS audiences, and those in recovery. Pepper’s pushing for non-alcohol-centered spaces. You can too: play libraries, breweries that don’t require drink sales, and all-ages spaces; talk to your city about public performance support; be honest about your own boundaries around drinking; challenge the norm that alcohol = music. We can build a healthier scene together.

What should I do when I make a mistake – or worse?

Pepper says it clearly: “There has to be a way back.” If you’ve hurt someone, intentionally or not, start here: Apologize. Be specific. Don’t make excuses. Commit to change. Say you won’t do it again – and mean it. Show how you’re changing: What therapy, coaching, or system changes you’re putting in place. We’re all fallible. But growth requires honesty, accountability, and visible repair.

How do I balance creativity and mass appeal without losing my voice?

Build two versions of a song: one wild, one clean. See what sticks. Keep your message real – but experiment with delivery. Shorten songs strategically. Simplify with intent, not fear. “Just do what feels right to you – and then, later, see where it fits.”

What’s the single biggest thing I can do to support the Utah music scene?

Make someone else visible. Repost their show. Buy their merch. Tag them in a story. Shout them out on stage. Your voice has power. Use it to amplify, not just promote.