You can tell a lot about a person by how they treat pets and the geriatric. If they’re kind to senile shells of humans and pets, then chances are good that they’re a decent person. It’s not a foolproof litmus test, but more often than not a villain isn’t going to pet a dog.
The same sort of thing goes for how bands act outside of a set. My dad works in Christian music, meaning I’ve been to lots of shows throughout my life and have experienced the extra-show artists even more. I have been told “nice to meet you” every time I have shaken hands with the exact same artist, and I’ve met him at least annually since I was six years old. Most people just say “Oh yeah, you’re Grant’s kid!” which is fine, but makes me feel like something lesser. Some artists don’t even have the time to acknowledge me outside of a nod, and that can hurt, especially when you’re a ten year old kid who has been solely listening to an artist for a month, dancing along to each and every one of the tracks on the CD, anticipating the post-show greeting where you get to step past all of the record company adults in their half-ironed polos and bad sports coats to say hi to a (in your mind) superstar. I’m not bitter.
But I’ve also had some wonderful experiences with artists. There’s a thing in the emo scene called “icing” where you hide a bottle of Smirnoff Ice, and when someone finds it, they have to pound the whole thing. I hid a bottle outside of a set and watched as the lead singer from Prince Daddy and the Hyena found it, laughed and downed the whole thing. We talked for a few minutes after. Kory is a cool guy. Another time I met a member of The New Respects after a show that they did in Jackson. Weeks later, I ordered a coffee from her at a small coffee shop in Franklin, Tenn., and she recognized me before I recognized her. More often than not, my favorite interactions with bands are the ones when the band members get a little bit emotional when you tell them how good of a set they had, and they just go in for a hug and thank you for coming out that night, etc. etc.
My favorite post-show interaction with a band, however, happened a couple months ago in Nashville. We (myself, Joel Holland [roommate], and Grace Peecher [friend, future sister-in-law]) bought tickets to see Jukebox the Ghost, a power-pop band from Washington, D.C. They’re incredible, and I would recommend checking them out, but this article’s not about them. This article’s also not about the first opening act, The Daybreaks, but they’re super cool too, and you should listen to them as well. This piece is about The Greeting Committee, specifically about Addie Sartino, the powerful lead-singer of the band. Sartino is 20 or 21 (doesn’t matter for the piece, but you can read more about her here) and has more spirit in her stage presence than U2 had in all 111 of its 1987 Joshua Tree shows. And I bet those shows were wild.
I didn’t know The Greeting Committee before I got in the car for the two hour drive from Jackson to Nashville. We were going to see Jukebox the Ghost, and these other bands happened to be playing. But we listened to both artists, thought they were both fine and then talked about what we were going to eat in Nashville. It’s usually Cookout. It probably was that night too.
We went into the Basement East and began scouting out positions. The doors were already open, and people were milling about, talking and looking like they lived in Nashville. I think I was in the bathroom when The Daybreaks set started, but as mentioned before, this piece isn’t about them.
Nashville crowds tend towards two very different ends of a spectrum. Sometimes, it’s like being in a Presbyterian church (PCA not USA), everyone gently swaying back and forth and enjoying the music. The main difference is the substitution of double IPAs for red wine. The other side of the scene is moshing––people throwing elbows, fists, chunks of concrete, you name it. It’s fun, it’s dangerous and it’s a sure-fire way to ensure you have bruising in the morning. For some stupid reason, the crowd in the Basement East that evening was the former kind, gently rocking back and forth, despite the songs they were hearing. This did not stop Addie—dressed in a pink jumpsuit, black hair down—from dancing like she was on fire.
I don’t know which song it was when I first saw her really enter the space of “performer,” as I didn’t know their discography that well, but I remember hearing the guitars and drums and watching her with my mouth literally hanging open in the venue, awestruck at the power she exhibited on stage. Freddie Mercury had this sort of power, but not many other artists did. In earlier centuries, Addie would have been burned at the stake. Her dancing was too much to not originate from some sort of spirit. She’s running around the stage, her hair flying, jumpsuit catching the lights perfectly, voice hitting each and every note in the best possible way, all while she’s making eye contact with seemingly every person in the crowd. During one song, she joined the crowd, dancing with all of us to a musical breakdown that had no right to be as good as it was, the bass player pulling out a trumpet from nowhere and blasting it through the room.
Throughout the show, the audience’s eyes were glued to Addie. When she ran around the stage during the most amazing cover of MGMT’s Kids the world has ever known. When she cried during one of the more emotional songs on the new album (Birthday Song). When she jumped up and down, seemingly incapable of standing still for a second. We were spellbound.
And then after the show, we got to talk to her. We waited on most of the people to leave the room, and then approached her, introducing ourselves. The first thing she said was “Thank you guys for dancing.” Seriously, she’d seen us jumping along with her throughout the show and fed off our energy just as much as we fed off the GC’s music. She and the other members of the band were genuinely happy to meet us and were all interested in our lives, what we did, etc. We told them that we hoped to see them the next time they were in Tennessee, and they said they hoped to see us soon. Then we got in the car and drove all the way back to Jackson, listening to their songs the whole two hours.
