There are very few places left like The Milestone Club. Not just in the city of Charlotte, not just in the state of North Carolina, but anywhere in the country. Truly, genuinely, all ages, all styles, all ideas, all kinds of differences blend and bang and mosh and scream and cry and dance together within its sticker-plastered walls, a space that feels less like a venue and more like a living, breathing organism. It’s one of the last remaining venues of its type on the East Coast - a stubborn, defiant holdout against the relentless tide of gentrification and historical, cultural erasure. How to Save a Milestone, a new documentary about the club, understands something crucial right away: the building itself is only half the story.
The night before the documentary premiered online, The Milestone celebrated its 56th birthday the only way it knows how: bringing the community together for one big party. Frigid temperatures didn’t stop anyone from showing up for the annual Birthday Bash. Upon walking inside, the room was already filling up as Van Huskins tore into their set on the smaller bar-stage, a blunt “Fuck Trump” banner hanging overhead just to make sure everyone was on the same page about what kind of space this is. Middle-aged punks ripped it up for the crowd while a visibly inspired teenager rocked out up front, the lineage of the scene made literal in real time. One guy sat quietly reading in the corner. Couches, bar stools, and well-worn chairs filled the room in true bohemian fashion. It was hardly warm enough yet - hands and feet still frozen - but body heat (and some cheap beers) would take care of that soon enough.
What always strikes me most about The Milestone is the generational spread. Decades separate the people in that room, but the energy, the purpose, and the feeling are remarkably the same. Charlotte locals Mercury Dimes took to the main stage and absolutely tore the place apart with their dynamic, shape-shifting punk, sliding effortlessly between fast and slow, groovy and thrashy, sometimes all within the same song. Then came Shawn Garlic, a hip-hop and noisecore performance with no instruments, dual vocalists, masks, and androgynous fits that felt ripped from the same universe as $NOT. Mid-set, a cake was brought out, marking fifty-six years of sweaty, stinky, spectacular live music experiences at The Milestone. Wyley Buck, the current owner of the venue, was beaming all night.
By the time headliner Ken Mujo took the stage, things were getting appropriately fuzzy. His set felt like the purest embodiment of what The Milestone represents: community expression in its rawest form. He laid down skeletal song structures and invited the audience to fill in the rest - banging on percussion, screaming into microphones, offering up their own catharses. It was primal, tribal, and communal, with Mujo conducting the madness like a maestro even as it threatened to spiral out of control. Local punk legends No Anger Control were in the room as well, with frontwoman Tiff Tantrum jumping into Mujo’s set to unleash some righteous fury of her own. This is simply not the kind of performance you’ll ever see at a sterile, corporate-owned venue. DIY is alive and well here, and if this space ever goes away, it’s hard to imagine where (or if) that energy could ever truly re-form.
That lived-in context makes How to Save a Milestone, directed by Jason Arthurs and produced by journalist Liz McLaughlin, land with even greater emotional weight. Right from the opening moments, the film immerses you in the Milestone’s singular interior, every inch of it layered with history, grime, and impassioned love for music. One interviewee sums it up perfectly: “The punks hang out with the electronic people, and the ska kids, and the hipsters, and people that tuck their shirts in. They’re all at the same bar, singing the same music, rockin’ out, getting’ weird.”
Charlotte has always been a cultural melting pot, and because it isn’t as massive as Los Angeles or New York, because it’s more compact, more intimate, those subcultures truly collide rather than splinter off into their own bubbles. The Milestone doesn’t just allow that collision, it thrives on it. Often dubbed the “CBGB of the South,” it’s a rite-of-passage venue that’s hosted everyone from The Go-Go’s and Nirvana and Bad Brains to R.E.M., Violent Femmes, NOFX, and countless others. Those names matter, but the documentary is smart enough to understand that the real heart of the place lives with the local artists and everyday people who’ve kept it alive.
Buck becomes a central presence in the film, explaining how the Milestone operates within the bounds of legality while embracing a “pretty much anything goes” ethos. He talks about pulling into work and deliberately avoiding the surrounding “For Sale” signs; constant reminders of how hemmed-in the venue has become by corporate development. The documentary doesn’t shy away from the uncomfortable truth at its core: this isn’t just about celebrating the Milestone, but about actively asking how places like it can survive in a world where cultural demolition feels all but inevitable.
That struggle is further contextualized by looking at other losses, like Tremont Music Hall, another beloved Charlotte venue that hosted everyone from local favorites to massive international acts before being torn down for yet another block of overpriced apartments. “It’s really easy for us to take our shitholes for granted,” one person notes, “but you never want to see them go.” It’s a line that sticks.
The final act shifts into the COVID era, documenting a brutal 16-month closure and an even more desperate fight to stay afloat through livestream benefits and community support. It was a period that wiped out countless other venues worldwide. Watching the Milestone reopen feels genuinely triumphant. One interviewee likens it to returning to church, and the comparison rings true. There’s a bittersweet undercurrent throughout the film, a constant awareness of how easily this place could be closed, and how much would be lost if it ever disappeared.
What makes How to Save a Milestone so moving is the unintentional optimism baked into its existence. Originally conceived in 2019 as a possible chronicle of a venue’s final days, it instead becomes a testament to cultural perseverance. Six years and a global pandemic later, the Milestone is still here, still selling out, still chaotically fun, still welcoming first-timers and lifers alike. Watching this documentary after attending the latest Birthday Bash felt a bit surreal and deeply moving. This isn’t just a documentary about saving a building. It’s about saving spaces where art is allowed to be messy, confrontational, inclusive, and alive. A very hopeful way to start 2026.
Long live The Milestone.
‘How to Save a Milestone’ is now available to rent or own on Apple and Prime Video.
