go CoMo, go CoMo, go!
An excerpt from "Making the Band" by Erin Byers in this month's issue of Boston.
There's a particular smell that comes from a rock band at 4 in the morning--the semll of too many guys crowded into a small space littered with too many pizza boxes, too many cigarttes, and too many empty beer bottles. This is the smell wafting through a room at the Regency Hotel downtown in Columbia, Missouri, where the Boston band Apollo Sunshine is crashing for the night.
For the past five days, all that the band members had talked about was the marathon party they were going to have after they played a gig at Columbia's Blue Note club. It would be an all-nighter for the record books, the Perfect Hangover. Yet there we all were, slumped in a stinky haze--them, dazed; me, confused.
Groupies today are not the sex-crazed females portrayed in so many movies. Forget Kate Hudson in Almost Famous;* think John Cusak in High Fidelity.
We finally arrive in Columbia. The band has visited nearly every city between Boston and San Diego, but to the guys this college town is Vegas and Gomorrah combined. "Last time I was in [Missouri] I slept with two women," Gallagher boasts...
I wonder if I know either of those two women...
Also, Columbia was mentioned on NPR last week in a story about a guy (in CoMo) who started a Save Fiona Apple club and helped to convince her lable to go through with producing her latest record. I gave a little, "Woot woot!" in my car when I heard them mention Columbia.
X degrees from Nelson Mandela?
My dad is having dinner with the 2004 Nobel Peace Prize laureate Monday night. Sweet.
*Penny Lane was not a "groupie." She was a Band-Aid! Get it straight!