24 MONTEREY COUNTY WEEKLY MARCH 5-11, 2026 www.montereycountynow.com undeniably good.” Terndrup says he wouldn’t have found that record unless he was connected to the music scene himself. Being a newcomer to the DJ lineup in Monterey County, he respects the people who have been spinning here, like Travis Carter, aka DJ Trapps, a homegrown Monterey County DJ who’s also performed at gigs in the Bay Area. “He’s rooted in the hip-hop tradition of DJing,” Terndrup says. “He’s also actively still digging all the time.” With a music legacy that Ramirez spoke about stemming from big artists like Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix and Bob Dylan performing at the Monterey Pop Festival, or Bobby Darin on a drug-fueled discovery of self in Big Sur, thousands of vinyl records are scattered throughout Monterey County, several of which end up in thrift stores, estate sales or even locked away in houses of people who have passed away. Thrift stores and record shops are the places where those orphaned albums often land. But in order to find treasure, one must dig—a term often used by audiophiles that means thumbing through record stacks to find something good. DJs dig all the time and share with friends, making the experience hands-on. Terndrup learned about the rare Darin record through Carter, who told him about finding an extremely rare funk rock record at Last Chance Mercantile in Marina. After Carter alerted Terndrup, he and Ramirez beelined it to the thrift store, where they found the Darin record. Before the advent of computers and USB drives, DJs would often have to carry their entire music collection for the evening before any event. This cumbersome task meant lugging hundreds of records to a club for the night, but this was made slightly easier by the 45 vinyl disc because they are smaller than 12-inch long play (LP) discs. DJ Kim Sollecito—who goes by her DJ name Kim the Beat—carries about 200-250 45s with her to Pop & Hiss every Wednesday for her DJ set, along with a few 33 rpm LPs. Dressed in a black pleather skirt sporting a vintage Playboy belt buckle with a faux fur around her shoulders, the 28-year-old spins a collection of doo-wop, northern soul and garage rock and roll music from the 1950s and ’60s. Some of the artists heard include The Seeds, The Mamas & The Papas, Johnny Cash and Bo Diddley. By 8:30pm, several Gen-Zers and Zillennials start filing into the back of Pop & Hiss and begin dancing to the old-time music. “I feel like a lot of people my age don’t know where to find this music or they don’t know it exists,” Sollecito says. Sollecito started DJing in 2020 when she was living in New York City. She would use her government stimulus money to collect records—primarily 45s—which went for anywhere from $3 to $10, outside of rare collectibles which she also owns. But she was introduced to this musical era before that. In addition to some LP records she got from her father, Sollecito linked up with DJ Jonathan Toubin, modernly nicknamed “father of the rock and roll scene” in New York, who got her into DJing. When Sollecito came back to the West Coast in 2025, now seasoned in the genre, she was looking for a similar scene. Locally, she found it at Pop & Hiss, and in the Bay Area she linked up with Neil Pacheco—known as DJ Hitone—and Kevin Lehman, aka DJ Kevin Arnold, together who form the duo called Late to the Party. Toubin, Sollecito, Pacheco and Lehman are part of a movement gathering young people around rock and roll music from the bygone era. “I love to see people my age and younger understanding and loving this music. It’s kind of a lost art,” Sollecito says. “I think all DJs are amazing though.” Sollecito says there’s something special about owning a song in a tangible form like vinyl and sharing it with friends. “There’s magic in it,” she says. Proof of that exists with the people showing up to these sets or simply to chat about music—something that occurs regularly at record stores. Terndrup and Ramirez talk about music with each other on a regular basis, but see something more happening locally as older generations leave their music collections behind, eventually to be picked up by thrift stores and record shops. “I’m noticing younger generations are starting to rebel against devices,” Terndrup says. Contemporary artists also press their new music onto vinyl that can be found at record stores or even larger retailers like Target and Walmart. But consumerism is alive and well in some of these tactics, prompting debate in the audiophile community. One of the most infamous releases was Taylor Swift’s album Midnights, which came with four different covers that, if arranged correctly on the wall, forms a decorative analog clock—the catch being one has to purchase four copies of the same album to assemble it. Ramirez even comments that he’s now seeing AI-generated music pressed onto vinyl and available for purchase. Ramirez and Terndrup aren’t sure if AI technology will eventually take over DJing, but the invasion of AI into physical media continues, even fooling them sometimes when they attempt to share music with each other. In addition to the vinyl records now for sale with AI-generated music, Spotify debuted an AI DJ in 2023, with AI-voice-generated announcements that are able to introduce songs like on a radio station. Terndrup admits that he’s unable to hear a new song— especially one that’s sent to him via a streaming service like Spotify or Apple Music—without wondering if AI was involved. But at the same time, Terndrup and Ramirez notice more young people keeping their phones put away at shows or even not using them for GPS directions in public, signaling a rebellion against the internet. Ramirez believes that the ripple effect of that rebellion is now hitting smaller communities like Monterey. “There’s a resurgence in appreciating music and discovering more that’s out there,” says Ramirez, explaining that the mutiny was already present in major metropolitan cities across the U.S. He thinks that eclectic DJs in Monterey County are shouldering that rediscovery of music at their gigs and performances, and both of them agree that digging for a record, either on stage or at a record store, is irreplaceable by bots. Ironically, Ramirez credits TikTok and Instagram videos for bringing vinyl up from the underground because old music is often used for videos. “People are exposed more to jazz, like Bill Evans,” Ramirez says, referring to the pianist who died in 1980. He often sees vanity TikTok videos, which showcase beauty routines, accompanied by old jazz music like Evans and Herb Alpert of the eponymous Tijuana brass band from the 1960s playing in the background. DJs hold physical representations of that kind of media that people can experience in actual reality though, either heard through a curated playlist or on a physical copy of vinyl itself. To Ramirez, that means that the culture is no longer underground—DJs who make selections (whether vinyl or digital as their medium) based on their taste and not an algorithm have growing relevance in the local music scene. Terndrup adds, “I’m starting to think that the modern version of the ‘underground’ are people who are not on social media.” DJ Edison Tesla mixes and plays electronic dance music weekly at The Salty Seal on Cannery Row in Monterey. Bud’s at La Playa brings in local and visiting DJs to curate the mood during Fadeaway sessions.
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