oh baby! just had my first shower in maybe three days? ...so clean!
we just finished playin a bucket-fulla-shows with our friends maps and atlases and now we're headed west.
the shows were real fun! thanks to everyone that came out and if you missed us- i'm sure we'll post recaps, analysis, and bar-graphs later.
but as for now i'm way too sleepy- cartoon zzz's floating outta my head- sleepy.
speaking of which, i got some ambien which totally helped me sleep last night but served up a healthy dose of the 'sads' today. not worth taking at all... unless you like the idea of DRIVING IN YOUR SLEEP!!!! absolutely horrifying!
and that's not the only thing you'll do in your sleep without any recollection- eat, call people, have sex? one side effect that seemed a lil on the funny side was "uncontrolled crying" but the others are reeeaaaal bad.
anyway, we've made some great friends on this trip. one great friend goes by the name of sarag. (<-typo turned funny)
sarag lives in boston and she let us sleep on her floor. i really liked her and her house-mates. they made us awesome blueberry pancakes from scratch. she wrote this for us.
cool, cool, cruel!
“My friends are playing at The Great Scott. They’re called ‘Nurses’. You’re on the guest list. You should go, and you should let them stay at your house tonight. They’re good guys.” It’s 9 o’clock on a Thursday night in Boston. I’m eating ice cream out of the carton when my friend Veronica calls me from Portland, Oregon.
I’m hesitant, but going to a free show sounds a lot better than my current Neapolitan company. I throw on my sweater and take the 10-minute bike ride to Allston from my pad in Jamaica Plain. Allston is an area of Boston infamous for being overrun by loud, party-going college students – making it a less-than-desirable place to live, but an amazing place to let loose. In addition to the social scene, entailing house shows, parties, lots of bars and music venues, thrift stores, and tattoo shops, Allston is also home to T.J. Scallywaggles House of Vegan Pizza, which I would find out later is a personal favorite of Maps and Atlases .
So, here I am, standing outside the Great Scott, non-chalantly smoking my American Spirit, as any good hipster should, wondering how I’m going to find this band, and whether or not I’m actually getting in free. A huge white van pulls up, and out steps a scraggly looking dude, who with his white and black striped shirt and bird feather-ed hair, looks something like a Native-American pirate (is that racist?). Cell phone in hand, he walks dangerously close to me.
“Are you Sarah?” he asks, while simultaneously handing me the phone, so I hear Veronica coo-ing and giggling in my ear. We exchange names, words, and cosmic vibrations until the friend gods have been pleased, so we head inside.
Nurses set-up is something to wonder at. Synthesizers, drum kit, a Rhodes piano – which lead-singer Aaron Chapman tells me is nothing to carry around since they used to have a real piano. “I was supposed to be a basketball player,” he tells me, standing shy of 5’7”, “but I shrunk like six inches from carrying the piano around.” He is not without wit. A bro standing next to me asks of the Rhodes, “What is that? It’s awesome.” Later during the set, with characteristic Bostonian good cheer, the same bro starts the mantra “Fuckin’ Nurses” as a cry of enthusiasm.
Playing after a loud, screaming, band with heavy guitar riffs – something like Incubus meets every other early nineties alternative rock band – the Nurses set feels like the mist rising off of a frozen lake after an early winter snowfall. By the end of the set, the once self-conscious and static audience is moving and vibing with the music. At one point someone throws up an inflatable beach-ball, and people start a free-form volleyball game.
Most people at the show were there to see the up and coming Chicago based band Maps and Atlases. Majority of the time, opening acts are bands that you sit through, eagerly and impatiently, half-listening, but mostly wishing that you were listening to the headlining act. The critical ear of the audience did not fall deaf to the musings of Nurses and most people seemed enthusiastically surprised that they were actually enjoying the set.
The dudes crash at my pad for the night, and in the morning we give them showers and a pancake breakfast and send them on their way to finish out the rest of their tour. In return, they give us many thanks and a copy of their new EP. I call Veronica and told her that her friends trashed my place in a drunken ego-fuelled rock star rage.