My dear friend Paul, lover of old man bars, has an understandable fondness for unearthing special taverns and local spots while on a trip of any kind. Naturally, that has to do with the very best stuff of traveling—the thrill of stumbling-upon, the joy and cachet of what is unexpected and, for you the traveler anyway, temporary. (I once remarked to him that opening the door to a new bar is like opening a present—and I think that may be his favourite thing I ever said.)
Opening the door to a faraway rock club, then, is a similar experience. You've driven several hours, hoping to catch a mere, say, ninety minutes of one of your favourite bands. You hope the club is great. The anticipation is both full of promise and dread. It could be awful, of course—you may have gambled an evening and a couple tanks of gas for a shitty PA and a short set—but for some reason it almost always ends up seeming worthwhile. You walk into the dive bar/abandoned swimming pool/converted church and catch your breath. OH YEAH, you look around and you think: It was definitely the right decision to come.
I'm not sure what the first long-distance rock trip I took was—I'm pretty sure I was planning to see the Buzzcocks in Minneapolis when I was sixteen, until the sound of that seven-hour haul was bad enough that my mom began to prefer my idea of just sneaking into the eighteen-and-over show in Chicago where I already lived. (In truth, my first away show was probably something in Wisconsin, though those of us in Chicago hardly considered that a roadtrip.)
And though roadtripping to see bands sounds like something I might've outgrown after college—after all those glorious "Hey, let's leave after class and we can be in Columbus to see the Coctails by 8:00pm!" moments—in fact I have not. In fact, it remains one of the funnest things I get to do from time to time. There's just something so much more vital and invigorating and decisive about going way out of your way to see a band you love than simply, you know, stumbling across town to see them and going to bed at a reasonable hour with your own cat. It requires a level of investment and dedication you've only achieved by already being a passionate fan; it requires you to hold yourself to a threshold of excitement and enjoyment that means you're already appreciating music in a more visceral, life-changing way than maybe the next guy. And, sure. You're a little nutty.
This past year, as I've re-embraced the freedom of doing whatever the fuck I want, I've taken even more delight in cross-checking tour schedules with baseball schedules, synchronizing out-of-town shows with the calendars of dear friends, and have generally tried to fully integrate the life of a vaguely responsible adult with the life of a 31-year-old music lover with a mostly functioning car and a flexible schedule. And you know, it has been so worth it. When a band you truly love is playing within reachable distance and you have the means to go—why wouldn't you hop in the car? It's not like they're going to be around forever (or in some cases, ever play this year's album again.) And there's something magical, too, about giving your favourite bands more than one chance on a tour—it's not just an opportunity to see different songs (like, dude, Sonic Youth totally opened with "Candle" in Pittsburgh) but it's an opportunity to see how different rooms and crowds and nights affect the same material, the same artists. And if you're seeing a band just once—they cruised past your town, you gotta see 'em in Buffalo or something—it can feel like you've simply expanded the perimeter of your usable world. And that's never a bad thing.
And I've had so many wonderful journeys to and from these concerts—talking with friends, reminiscing about music, trying to explain myself to customs officials—that I really hold a special category for the friends that have been passionate or game enough to join in on the fun. You know who you are, but you are especially Andy, Doug, Pete, Peter, Scott, Elena, Patrick—you dudes totally get it.
As to whether I'd have as much fun being actually on the road, that's hard to say. I've driven cross-country tons of times, and I've driven bands to their out-of-town shows—but combining the two in a real sense is a step I've never taken. Now, friends of mine occasionally make the odd comment about bringing me along—but until I learn a skill with vaguely more utility than, say, official tour knitter and love-advice giver, my days on the road may still be confined to a fading Volvo. But that's okay—so long as you all don't mind me popping up at a show here and there and don't secretly call me creepy for doing so—I can make do quite happily.
Ahem.
And now that you're done reading my romanticization of a life of road construction, dirty gross rock clubs and a truly fuel-inefficient way to have a good time: please continue on to Chinese Broccoli's first ever interview, with my good friend Andy—the only person I know who regularly makes driving eight hours roundtrip to see a good band seem about as effortless as walking to the corner for a pack of smokes.
Andy Dolan has been one of my best friends since approximately 1993, when I apparently approached him after class to inquire about his Stereolab t-shirt. He drives to more out-of-town rock shows than anyone else I know. I interviewed him over AIM (IMterviewed him?) for more than an hour about his expertise in this matter. Andy lives in Dearborn, Michigan, with his wife Amanda, who can occasionally be talked into driving to see the Wrens.
Chinese Broccoli: Hi Andy.
Andy: Hi Liz
CB: You are known for driving fair distances to see rock shows. Is this an accurate assessment of your talents?
Andy: I never thought of it as a talent, but yes, I do what I can.
CB: But most people don't do that.
Andy: True.
CB: So you must be particularly good at it.
Andy: So are you! I've just been motivated to do it a lot.
CB: Have you been motivated by your ratio of success?
Andy: Yes... I love that it's almost always worth whatever pain-in-the-ass it is to get to and from the show. So I keep doing it. There aren't many activities that are that much of a sure thing that are totally under my control.
CB: Do you think the pain-in-the-ass factor makes you convince yourself the show might have been better than it really was?
Andy: I'm sure it does! But I think if a show really sucks, I become especially bitter at whatever rock band was responsbile for making me drive all that way.
CB: Ooh, like who? What's the farthest you've driven for a bad show?
Andy: The WORST drive ever, was seeing Pavement at the Double Door in Feb. 1997. The show absolutely blew, I couldnt get home because of blinding snow. But then I was scheduled to see them 2 nights later, at Lounge Ax, and they luckily (for them) redeemed themselves.
CB: Did you make it home to Ann Arbor and then turn around and go back to Chicago two days later?
Andy: Yeah, it was Valentine's Day weekend.
CB: Do you remember the first rock show you drove out of town for?
Andy: Um.. yes.
CB: Do you care to share it with my no doubt vast and insatiably curious readership?
Andy: I'll tell you lots of funny details about it that are more interesting than who it was. It was in Columbus. It was with some dude I had just met a few weeks prior. And I found out between the time that we made the plans and the trip that he was a totally obnoxious dork. We met up with some friends in Columbus, and he was totally rude to them and wanted them to sneak a tape recorder in for him. And we stayed with his relatives in Kenton, OH. And our friends (actually my dad's friends) offered us pot.
CB: Haha! But you often rock-roadtrip alone these days, right?
Andy: These days, yes. I used to almost always travel with others back in the day. I'm amazed at how many different people used to want to do that. I went on two trips with women I had never met previously.
CB: I went on a roadtrip with Doug on a Saturday and I had only met him Wednesday. We stayed with my friend Ted [in Columbus] who was renovating his attic guestroom, and we had to reinstall the window back into the wall before being able to sleep.
Andy: After driving for a lot hours and seeing rock, usually it's bad if there's a lot of complications before you get to sleep after that.
CB: On the other hand, you might not get to sleep soon at all. Could you explain the phrase "kicking it old school"?
Andy: In its purest form, it's driving to see a show, seeing the rock, driving home. Sleeping your car is permissible. But not at a friend's.
CB: What about telling your girlfriend you're sleeping in your car but actually sleeping at a friend's?
Andy: Technically, not old school, but you are free to represent it as such if you ever find yourself in that situation, which I can't imagine. [pause] Anyway, old school is important because it creates so many options.
CB: Like driving into a utility pole?
Andy: You have that option anyway.. Well, it kind of expands your thinking on what shows you can go to without making lots of arrangements. You think of seeing a show 4 hours away as being in the same vein as one thats 20 minutes away. Hence, more options.
CB: But aren't you tired at work the day after coming to see Sonic Youth in Toronto?
Andy: Of course! But I'm also tired after Mission of Burma in Detroit.
CB: Ha! What criteria are required for a show to be a "drive" show for you?
Andy: Hm. If the band is not playing Detroit, and I notice myself kind of warming up to a band recently, then even that much curiosity might be enough. If they are playing in Detroit, then I have to really like them (duh) or just recognize a lot of significance with going. Or if a friend invites me :) I went through a period where I was trying to go to shows of bands I didnt know much about, but that didn't go so well.
CB: For me if a band I care about has released a really great record, like Sonic Youth and Yo La Tengo did this year, I kind of feel like I might regret it if I don't see them in more than one show when they're touring on it. Like I try to recognize the importance of the shows as opportunities, moments in time.
Andy: Exactly, that would be one example of siginifcance. Or if they are getting back together, or playing a last show/last tour ever. [pause] Or someone like Mission of Burma who could die at any moment.
Andy: Knowing that I will see a different set list if i go multiple times can be a BIG factor
CB: Yeah, there's nothing as big of a drag for a rock roadtrip as seeing an identical set the next night — well, nothing other than seeing the identical stage banter.
Andy: Ahright, we're gonna try a Sea and Cake song...
CB: I'm not sure Sam Prekop is trying to *banter* per se...
Andy: There was a time when Mushaka and I had every Sam Prekop stage banter ever memorized, it was like our macros.
CB: Hahaha!
Andy: I remember seeing someone do the same set like 4 times in a row, can't remember who though.
CB: God, you must have blocked them out of anger. Who are the bands you've roadtripped to see the most?
Andy: Hm. Sonic Youth. Melt-Banana. Stereolab. That's probably the top 3. Actually, I remember not being too annoyed at the 4 identical setlists. I was more annoyed when I saw Stereolab do an AMAZING show in Chicago, and a really flat, boring, uninspired setlist and show in Detroit. I was like, Great, now I have to see EVERYONE in Chicago.
CB: Ha! Do any other cities have special juju for you?
Andy: Hm, well 100% of the shows I've seen in Pittsburgh have been awesome.
CB: Hey me too!
Andy: Yeah!
CB: Probably my most memorable rock roadtrip is Pittsburgh.
Andy: Which one?
CB: Yo La Tengo at Carnegie Mellon University in 1995. It was an afternoon show actually, put on by Doug Mosurak. I remember I had stayed up all night overnight working on finishing an issue of my fanzine to get it ready for the printer in the morning. I didn't finish it by morning, but I remember looking at my clock around 9:00am and thinking, huh, if Yo La are on at 3:00, I'd better get in the car now. So I did, and I drove there on literally no sleep, sat down on the floor of this weird warehouse-like campus venue, and watched them play all of Electr-O-Pura, which no one had really heard yet. I sat there and watched "Blue Line Swinger" and was completely fucking floored.
Then, after the show, the people I was planning on staying with were all leaving Pittsburgh to go down to Morgantown, West Virginia to see Slot. So instead of taking that opportunity to see West Virginia for the first time in 1995, I decided instead to kick it old school on the no sleep and drove straight back to Ann Arbor. I kept barely awake through a combination of rolled-down window and eating Goldfish crackers I had taken from Yo La's rider.
Andy: I remember reading that story in your 'zine way back in the day and decided you were 100x more hardcore than i would ever be with my Chicago Stereolab. It actually inspired me, no shit.
CB: It was quite foolhardy. [pause] By the way, the Goldfish crackers were on the rider I think mainly because Mosurak was only able to fill it with items he could purchase at the student store. I think he also managed to get CMU to expense a speeding ticket I got on the way, though that was possibly for one of Franklin's shows.
Andy: Hahahahaha
CB: Have you ever had any wacky coincidences while driving to see a show?
Andy: Well, one time, on the way to Cleveland to see the Magnetic Fields, I ran into Stephin Merritt at a rest stop, in the parking lot.
CB: Were you all, "Dude I'm on my way to your show"?
Andy: Yeah, I kind of apologized for it and explained I didn't have an apartment and that's why I had nothing better to do other than follow them around.
CB: Hahahaha! What did he say?
Andy: He seemed uninterested, but was interested in hearing about what the venue was like...
CB: It was nice of you to provide that service so he didn't have to sit in wonder for the next 100 miles.
CB: How many times did you see Sonic Youth this summer?
Andy: 7 wonderful shows in 6 cities: Philadelphia, Washington, DC, Asheville, NC, Atlanta, Toronto, and Pittsburgh.
CB: I remember you texted me from the second show of the night in DC saying that you were exhausted and your feet were hurting to the point of you wanting to die, right up until they played "Brother James" and then everything was suddenly okay. That's sort of the essence of the rock roadtrip, isn't it?
Andy: Absolutely. The amount of discomfort and stress, physically and mentally, that you put yourself through, just to see a rock band, it's a recognition of how amazing and special and rare an event it is.
CB: I totally agree. There aren't a lot of things in life that make me feel as happy and in the moment and given-over-to-something-else as that. Swimming in big waves is one of them, being at an amazing show is another.
Andy: Going on a long drive makes me even more likely to appreciate it and be 'in-the-moment' too.
CB: Right, it's like you made the decision to keep score.
Andy: Right on. Also, you have a purer sense of how good the show was, whereas for a local show, you might allow yourself to become distracted more easily because it's less of a commitment. And that clouds your judgment.
CB: Like going to get nachos for three innings (instead of keeping score). [pause] I'm stretching aren't I.
Andy: We should do a separate interview on baseball roadtrips.
CB: We should do a separate interview on everything we've ever done in Pittsburgh!
CB: Do bands you've travelled to see begin to recognize you as "that guy"?
Andy: I don't think so. I hope not, I kind of went through a stage where I kind of thought that would be cool, like every fan-boy, but I realized fairly quickly that that's not what it's about at all.
CB: Do people think it is weird that you do this? Do you tell your work when you do things like take a day off to see the Wrens?
Andy: Well, people think it is weird when you go to Detroit to see a show.
CB: From Dearborn.
Andy: Right. I usually tell my work-friends if I take a day off to see the Wrens, but I usually keep it secret if I 'kick it old school'. I don't like the questions people ask about that, or when they attribute me being tired to it, etc.
CB: What do they ask? "What the heck is wrong with you?"
Andy: I think Jeff used "Ninjalicious" for the same reason. To avoid, you know, "Isn't that DANGEROUS?" and other parental questions.
CB: Ahhh. Let's see. In the book he says, "...so my co-workers won't be able to use Google to find out that the reason I'm exhausted on any given Monday morning is because I was out late exploring an abadnoned brewery."
Andy: It's sort of like that, like, it's ok to be exhausted if you were up caring for a newborn baby, but not if you were up all night enjoying yourself in a way other people don't. Soon I'll have that as an excuse, too!
CB: I guess babies kick it old school every night, in a sense.
Andy: They are totally hardcore.
CB: So have you ever thought about somehow going on tour for real? Or would be that less fun than sleeping in your Civic?
Andy: I think touring with a band would be awesome, but I can't conceive of how that would happen.
CB: You could be the mersh girl.
Andy: Sales would plummet! Actually, yeah, I think it would be an amazing way to see the country... I've never had that much continuous free time, which kind of goes back to why kicking it old school is important..
CB: Old-school or no it's kind of a wonderful way to move your boundaries into the more psychological realm rather than pretending that they're physical. (This is also why I like urban exploration.)
Andy: Yeah, that makes sense..
CB: Am I missing baiting you on any other stories/philosophies? Did you tell me the furthest you've driven for any single show?
Andy: Exclusively for a show, that would be Brooklyn, NY.
CB: Who?
Andy: Eh, nobody good.
CB: Better than the nobody you saw in Columbus?
Andy: Marginally.
CB: Are either of these Kristen Hersh?
Andy: Yes.
CB: Are both?
Andy: No, only Brooklyn.
CB: Who was Columbus?
Andy: (feigns strep throat)
CB: Was Al Jorgensen involved?
Andy: No. But they are so univerally loathed it would totally twist the focus of the entire interview.
CB: Wow! Can we give the readers a prize if they guess it?
Andy: Yes, but they have to guess 5 bands so I don't have to specify which one it was.
CB: I suggest the winner be awarded a roadtrip with you to see a band that is actually good. I'll front the cash for you two to stop at Steak and Shake.
Andy: Well, I don't know if any of the bands I see are good, except for The Ex and Sonic Youth. So it might be a while.
[CB]
