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About Bored Lansing

I moved to Lansing planning to stay here for two years. That was twenty years ago.

Part of what’s kept me here is simple: there’s always someone making something happen, somewhere in town. It’s not always obvious, not always easy to find — but it’s here. A show worth going to, a festival, a play, a town of interesting people that changes just frequently enough that the city never quite goes stale on you.

But I live in those scenes, and I do a lot of work to seek out those events. Even then, I miss stuff. But if you’re not living in it, if you’re a step away from it, Lansing might just look like a sad little town. I hear it constantly — friends griping that Lansing is boring, Reddit threads about there being nothing to do, people who find out after the fact that something they would have loved happened last Thursday. It’s not a Lansing problem specifically. Big cities don’t have it — Nashville, New Orleans, New York, there’s enough critical mass that the scene finds you.

But Akron, Fort Wayne, Lansing — mid-size cities with nascent scenes and no reliable signal? This is our problem to solve.


The problem isn’t the scene. It’s the signal.

Lansing has a real music community. Original artists, working musicians, performers who show up week after week. These generally aren’t folks chasing a record deal, but rather people who love it, because playing music is what they do. The venues that host them are the kind of places that make a city worth living in: independent, a little weird, and imperfect in ways that feel specific to this place, rather than smoothed over by a corporate design committee.

But finding out what’s happening requires knowing the right people, following the right accounts, being already inside a network that doesn’t advertise its existence. If you’re not already in, the door isn’t obvious.

Bored Lansing is an attempt to make the door obvious.


What we actually believe

Music is one of the oldest things humans do together. A saxophone, keyboard and drum kit transform a Tuesday night into something you remember. It says things out loud that you couldn’t say any other way. It puts you in a room with strangers who suddenly aren’t.

I built this site to get people off their phones and into those rooms. Not another place to rack up followers or disappear into a feed — a chance to actually go somewhere, see someone perform, and feel something. The point is the room. The technology is just how we find it.


What we list

Live performances where a named performer is the reason to attend. Original music, cover acts with real local followings, comedians, spoken word. People on a stage that other people came specifically to see.

We don’t list everything. A tight list you can trust is more useful than a complete one you have to sort through. We make editorial picks when something is genuinely worth going out of your way for — not because an algorithm flagged it, but because a person thought so.


A note on artificial intelligence

AI is part of how this site works. Artist bios are drafted with its help. It makes the work of collecting and maintaining listings across dozens of sources — venue sites, Facebook events, Instagram posts, band pages — actually possible. Without it, this site doesn’t exist. And yes, I know because I tried it.

But nothing is published without a person reading it first. Every bio is reviewed. Every pick is made by an editor, not an algorithm. AI surfaces things; a human decides what matters. That means we’ll miss things. You’ll sometimes disagree with our choices. A person made them, with all the blind spots that implies — which is either the problem with this site or the whole point of it, depending on how you feel about algorithms making those calls instead.

We have a longer position on what that means, why we think it matters, and what we’re genuinely uncertain about. If you’re curious, it’s here.


The working musician deserves better

There’s a specific kind of artist this site exists for: the one who’s been playing this city for years, who has a real following but no publicist, who books their own shows and promotes them on a Facebook page and hopes enough people see it in time.

They’re not trying to go viral. They’re trying to fill a room. They deserve a platform that takes them as seriously as they take their craft.


Want to be listed? Know about a show we’re missing?

We review everything that comes in. If you’re a venue, promoter, or artist with shows in the Lansing area, reach out.

hello@boredlansing.com