Cyberfest
Mass Movement Community Arts
September 6, 2025
“Give yourself time. Ideas'll come. Life'll shake you, roll you, maybe embrace you. The music'll find you.” —Johnny Silverhand (Cyberpunk 2077)
It's late summer, and the dregs of heat hold on as fall moseys in. On a particularly sunny Saturday last weekend, I joined a lineup of local and touring musicians headed for Cyberfest, an exploration of rarely heard sound put together by known Tulsa fringe music advocates Cult Love and Mass Movement Community Arts. Cars with bumper stickers like “I HONK FOR NOISE” lined the street as I walked up. As the doors opened around 3 p.m., an anxious early crowd filtered in, full of familiar faces, including Strangers in Mirrors, Zac from Anthroproach, and Tahlia, the former bassist for Estrvs, who ran up to me to deliver a GODOT-branded BIC lighter featuring the image of my favorite Japanese robot musician Hatsune Miku—which felt topical. With my new Miku lighter and my waterproof notepad (you never know), I was ready to see what Cyberfest was all about.
It would be easy to miss Mass Movement. Driving along a side road of I-244, just past the gray bridge and the spasms of graffiti that dot endlessly over it, I’d perceived the eyes of a coffee entrepreneur, a la The Great Gatsby’s Dr. T.J. Eckleburg, telling me to “Drink Different.” Not far past that Topeca Roastery billboard is a small building, its windows covered in low-resolution photos of upcoming concerts, band applications, and offers to use the building as a practice space. The spirit of the Do-It-Yourself culture and attitude is strong here—the official Mass Movement logo is a spray tag to the left of the door.
Inside are the bare necessities of a venue, and I mean that in the best way possible. It has exactly what it needs, namely an unassuming stage just large enough for a full band, just enough light to give warmth and color, a set of speakers that fill the room perfectly, and a side room for setup and merch. I walked around admiring the graffiti, stickers, exposed brick, and broken concrete. The all-ages venue feels both authentic and safe, with a “NO BOOZE, BOZO” sign displayed outside. Straight edge, man.