The members of indie-punk band Youth Ambulance aren’t technically old enough to play The Atlantic — a 21-plus venue they’ve performed at anyway. But they’re not too young to be rock stars.
Middle-schoolers Vera Podlesnik and Hudson Martin, both 12, retook The Atlantic stage at the fourth annual Big: Culture & Arts Festival in April. Among nearly 150 artists, the Youth Ambulance kids might have been the only Generation Alpha musicians in the lineup.
But Gainesville’s punk rock scene doesn’t discriminate by age. It’s a scene that’s accepted all ages since its establishment in the ‘80s when sweaty punk patrons filled venues like the Hardback Cafe, now Boca Fiesta.
Decades later, the historic punk scene that saw its peak in the ‘90s is as dominating as ever — and preteens are helping keep it alive.
Youth Ambulance’s 5-foot-1 frontgirl Vera has her dad to thank for her affinity for punk rock, who would play her his favorite bands during breakfast. She grew up listening to her parents' Operation Ivy and Descendents CDS.
Vera has been passionate about making music, too, as long as her parents can remember, since she was able to get her toddler hands on various instruments lying around the house.
But it was at nonprofit We Rock Gainesville’s summer camp that pursuing punk rock herself first felt possible.
With fresh-dyed platinum blonde hair reminiscent of Hayley Williams’ 2020 do, Vera wears a confidence she lacked as a timid camper last summer. Hudson can’t imagine his singer as anything but a chatterbox.
Now, it’s evident in Vera’s eyes — decorated with glittery eyeshadow and eyeliner — that becoming “famous famous” is something she believes can happen.
Beyond getting rockstar-rich and buying cool clothes with her royalties, Vera means to inspire others with her music and express herself in ways many 12-year-olds aren’t expected — or permitted — to.
“Punk is so important, because punks speak about topics that a lot of other people don't dare to talk about,” she said, “and that's why punks are seen as rebels.”
At the summer camp, the kids are assigned an instrument and bandmates and tasked to write a song in just a week.
Vera wrote a song called “Cop Chase” with her camper band Astynomia, named for the modern Greek word for “police.” She said the track predicted the current injustices imposed by ICE officers, with lyrics like “ice gets thinner.” Today, “Cop Chase” is one of around 10 songs in Youth Ambulance’s regular rotation.
Liz Davis, the co-director of We Rock Gainesville, said the politically charged track is one of her all-time favorite songs. She’s proud that Vera, the once-quiet camper, became empowered through songwriting to openly express herself and her feelings about the state of the world.
Davis, who’s largely responsible for coordinating the almost entirely volunteer-run summer camp, knows kids like Vera have important things to say — they’re too rarely listened to, she said.
The nonprofit’s camp isn’t just meant to build bands and teach professional music etiquette, Davis said. It’s meant to amplify expression, too — encouraging up-and-coming musicians their voices matter just as much as decades-older veteran performers.
“I strongly believe that the door shouldn't be open just based on your age,” she said. “These 12-year-olds are coming out here and kicking ass.”
Vera recruited Hudson on the drums, and the duo — reminiscent of an early Halestorm — made its first appearance as Youth Ambulance in October at a Teen Open Mic organized by WRG.
Just two days later, the pair played a WRG-sponsored FEST 23 show at the Civic Media Center. The preteens took the stage in the same annual punk festival that’s hosted Gainesville punk royalty like Less Than Jake and Hot Water Music.
Hudson promised his former teacher he’d invite her to FEST when he made the lineup one day. He fulfilled his promise sooner than either of them dreamed.
Sporting another flowy blonde head of hair with faded pink underlights is Hudson, a percussionist who can’t finish a sentence without using the word “tuff” — today’s equivalent of “tubular.” Hudson’s skateboarder swagger and red-and-black-painted nails hint that punk rock is his home.
Hudson’s dad has played drums since he was young, too, and he plays in two local punk outfits: BAD DOG and Supertwin. Youth Ambulance appeared on the same bill as both bands at its first show at The Atlantic in February.
Youth Ambulance meets almost every Monday after school at Vera’s house to practice. But the band hones its craft in the classroom, too.
Though only in sixth grade, Vera and Hudson are taking the seventh grade level of Modern Music, an immersive music performance and entrepreneurship course at P.K. Yonge Developmental Research School.
Their teacher, Robert Edmondson, is just as passionate about music himself — but he said he can barely take credit for the energy and dedication the Youth Ambulance kids have shown in and out of class.
“I feel like I've won if they see the value in it and are doing it themselves without me,” he said. “I don't ever have to ask them to do homework. They're just going to go try to set up shows because they love it.”
Edmondson said Gainesville is especially supportive of young musicians trying to get their feet off the ground.
The local music scene isn’t just supportive. Elliott Hamilton, Youth Ambulance’s former 14-year-old bassist, argued it’s crucial to keeping Gainesville alive.
“Gainesville only still exists because of music and UF,” he said. “Otherwise, this place would have died out.”
Elliott’s dad, Jonathan Hamilton, is also part of two local punk bands, Orbiter and Allsalt. He’s played in bands since he moved to Gainesville in 1999.
Jonathan said the local scene has grown more open-minded over time.
“The idea of having kids this young integrated into basically normal shows — like, they're not kids shows,” he said ahead of Big. “There's not even a caveat that comes with it.”
Jonathan’s Orbiter bandmate Matt Walker is a Gainesville punk rock historian and connoisseur. He wrote the 2016 book "Gainesville Punk: A History of Bands and Music" and has taught a UF honors class called "Gainesville Punk: A History of a City and a Scene.”
Walker argues Gainesville’s music community has always been open to people of all ages.
In the late ‘90s, Walker said he would make the two-hour drive from his hometown of Valdosta, Georgia, to attend Gainesville shows at venues like Hardback, where tightly packed crowds would move and mosh as one organism.
The Gainesville punk scene saw its peak in the mid-to-late ‘90s, Walker said. But for the past few years, he said, it’s become as active as it’s ever been.
He and his UF students frequently ponder the question, “Why Gainesville?” How has the climate of this college town cultivated and upheld punk rock all these years?
The answer may be the dedication punk rockers possess to maintaining the scene — and to passing the punk rock torch.
“There's still some kind of connection to the shows happening today to the shows that happened 40 years ago,” Walker said. “There's some kind of throughline there.”
If the torch wasn’t a metaphorical object, its tangible form would be Hot Water Music member Jason Black’s custom shop Reverend bass guitar. He gifted it to Elliott, who played it at his first Youth Ambulance gig in February.
After that gig, Elliott’s phone buzzed with texts from his dad’s friends and family. He embraced the support — not something everyone has shown him and his former bandmates.
The Youth Ambulance kids know they’re different and they’ve been made fun of for it. But for the band, music has been something they can take pride in.
“It feels like a warm blanket of security, because you're just like, ‘Oh yeah, I'm in a band,’” Hudson said. “You're not.”
But bullies won’t deter young bands like Youth Ambulance from emerging in the scene.
Though the new generation of Gainesville punks has an intimidating decades-long legacy to carry on, they have nothing to fear — save for getting kicked out of 21-plus bars.
“It's kind of scary to play with these artists that are much older and much better,” Vera said. “But sometimes they see us and their eyes light up whenever we start playing. It makes me feel so secure.”
Contact Isabel Kraby at ikraby@alligator.org. Follow her on X @isabelgkraby.
Isabel Kraby is a journalism senior at UF and the Summer 2026 editor of The Avenue desk. She has served as both a general assignment reporter and the music and performance reporter for The Avenue. Izzy loves going to concerts, crocheting and practicing guitar in her spare time.
