A few lessons from a backyard punk rock show
- You cannot numb your anger selectively
- It is better to laugh
- You cannot deaden the expression of your love
- Expansion is the way forward
- Love is real
- Pain is the con
I parked where I always park, as close to the fire hydrant as the law (and my terror of fines) allows. Under Roland Park’s canopy of trees, we crossed the splitting road to Scott and Jean’s house, cutting down the driveway before getting to the usual place. Handmade, spray-painted signs marked the path to Edgevale Park, the space between and behind houses – the impromptu Club 603 Arena – the setting sun coloring the horizon golden. Right as Jess and I sighted the field from the back yard, Scott walked out of the house, carrying a broad smile and a hug.
Anticipation gives way to smiles, and suddenly smiles explode into a dopaminergic blast of ecstasy. The sorrow of the last year – the isolation, the uncertainty, the fast and slow terrors of a pandemic in a propagandized world – prepares us for joy, new-old reminder that sometimes sorrow violently sweeps out our houses to make room for new growth.
This night felt like that.
In the pandemic world (mistake me not – the pandemic is an unfinished thing, and I worry we find ourselves in the eye of this storm), the simple act of seeing people’s faces, of feeling their presence, becomes a quietly transgressive act. To do so outside feels safer, especially knowing this is a well-vaccinated crowd (maybe fully).
Scott and Jean decked out the field that comprises their shared backyard with floating orbs to surround and underscore a rented stage.
Jason Narducy’s gear rimmed the stage’s edge, his merch table stage right, the soundboard to the left (after some altercations with a tree). Scott introduced him and shared that, at 603 shows, all donations for the foreseeable future would go straight to the artists. Jason smiled behind him, stepped to the mic, and so began a night full of stories and songs.
I don’t want to detail the stories – those are Jason’s to give – but I need to share a slice of them, hints of them, so you understand how his stories impacted the night. Jason brought us to laughter repeatedly, including how he responded when someone yelled out “SUPERCHUNK!” in the space between songs (he learned and played one for us). He told us about the wedding anniversary backyard show he played, his voice catching when talking about their five-year old daughter joining them in the dance. He told us about Joey Ramone being tousled by Pete Townshend. He told us about his musical – Verboten – and even played a medley from it. He told us about playing with an old Englishman in his backyard (“Waterloo Sunset”). In short, he reminded us so deeply what it is to be human.
And I think, maybe, that’s what defines Split Single records better than anything else. These are songs that pulse and thrum with life, perfectly set to rock and roll. Thematically, he emphasizes the importance of being human and then fighting for everyone’s right to be human. His politics are clear, and should come us as no surprise to anyone with a salt’s throw of sense.
He played a host of songs from the new record, Amplificado (buy it here). The press focuses on who played with him – which is fair, since it’s a great band – but the songs stand on their own beautifully. Solo and without the band around him, “95 Percent” and “Stone Heart World” still pulse with power. “Mangled Tusk” – oddly named, but ultimately perfectly so – soars into power pop territory. “Bitten by the Sound” and “(Nothing You Can Do” To End This Love” combine these sensibilities.
But for me, the highlight of the record is probably “Satellite”, a song dense with meaning and beauty. I loved getting to see it live, as it’s one of my favorite songs of the year.
After the show, we milled around and socialized into the darkness. Eventually, Jess and I had to leave, but a piece of my heart stayed in Edgevale.
A perfect show.
Here are a few photos from the show.
