GUTTER ISSUE 10

MUSIC ISSUE DECEMBER 1ST 20151

EDITOR IN CHIEF NINA BRACA MANAGING EDITOR BRUCE HAMILTON LAYOUT EDITOR LUCIA URBANIC WRITERS YARRA BERGER DEANNA CASTELLO BRUCE HAMILTON DAVID PETERMAN DEREK SHERRY BEN VERDE COVER PHOTO ALISON AHEARN

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LETTER FROM THE EDITOR

Hey You know what is fun and cool/ sometimes sad but also happy and interesting???

Music. We made this music issue because Gutter love music and Gutter loves you, so here is our music issue.

We have had quite a few road blocks regarding printing this semester. This issue will first be going up online, and hopefully will be printed at some point in the future. But we still need/want/LOVE new writers/photographers/artists!

We meet Mondays at 9 pm in the basement of The Hub, room 24/25. We are paid for by your MSAF. Come by!!! Or email us at purchaseguttermag@gmail.com. We love emails, they make us feel important.

And if you wanna be the teacher’s pet, well baby you just better forget it. Rock got no reason, rock got no rhyme.You better get me to school on time.

This is my final exam. Now you all know who I am . I might not be that perfect son. But ya’ll be rockin’ when I’m done.

Nina

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HOROSCOPES You’re the person who doesn’t really listen to music but pretends they do at the turn up function. “Oh yeah man, this is dope” is probably something that would come out of your mouth, followed by a weird attempt to prove it like “Yeah, I’m really into the old stuff,” though we both know neither you nor I knows what that elusive ‘old stuff’ is, or if there ever even was any.

SAGITTARIUS 11/22-12/21 Broody, Greedy, Brooding Emo. Beneath your hard exterior is a small, sweet, bawling lil’ baby. Let’s face it - you’ll breakdown to pretty much anything, though the lyrics are pretty important to you. Whether a lo-fi fuzzy 8-track recording, or a reverb-drenched Lykke Li, Bjork, Cat Power, you name it - you’re wrecked. Perpetually.

CAPRICORN 12/22-1/19

You that kid in front of the Fort always blasting some EDM type of bullshit.

Stop it. Stop it now.

AQUARIUS 1/20-2/18

PISCES 2/19-3/20

ARIES 3/21-4/19

You listen to stuff like Maroon 5, The Fray, and a whole lot of Coldplay. When The Funeral came out you basically came in your pants. You frequently dream of standing in the rain and confessing your feelings to the one you love. I feel like you own a messenger bag and still wear polos sometimes. It’s okay. I think? Do you still shop at American Eagle? I thought Zac Efron died and took all those awkward white romances along with him. (I’m sorry.) (I’m not.)

You’re at your best (or happiest?) when on a comfy couch listening to Joni Mitchell. You consider yourself the type of person who is “pretty practical” and “pretty chill” but you won’t hesitate to sing and half-hum after drinking a few glasses of white wine. Sometimes you don’t have any glasses, and use an old mug instead. Still, your sadness is sweet no matter it’s color or context, and whether it’s wine or it’s beer - a case is just fine.

Try to remember, but my feelings can’t know for sure. The first time you heard Daniel Johnston you were young and naive. Now, you’re still young and probably still naive. But is there anything wrong with that?

TAURUS 4/20-5/20 4

ILLUSTRATIONS BY GENIE ILMENEV

You’re one of the few that don’t understand the whole “Nickelback” thing.

GEMINI 5/21-6/20

Checking Pitchfork A Lot Guy.

CANCER 6/21-7/22

LEO 7/23-8/22

You crave drama, presentation, and only the absolutely spectacular-spectacular.

Power Pop is your life, and you’re not ashamed to admit it (and why should you be?) Listen to Marina, listen to Gaga, listen to Madonna, listen to Beyoncé.

Love it and eat it all up, because only you can determine what you’re worth to yourself - and today you’re worth a lot. Whether you’re in bed crying to Adele, or writhing in your sheets deep down in a Cher lipsync, you’re fabulous. Your emotions are strong and so is your heart (tear, tear). Go for it (whatever it is.)

You listen to Jesus Christ by Brand New on repeat. Do you own a beanie? Yeah.

Do you own a lot of flannel? Probably.

VIRGO 8/23-9/22 The other day you got so stoned and listened to Depression Cherry so much you thought you were another person. The next morning you woke up and turned on Joy Division. Punctuated steps on the way to class. This feels like the movie that you sometimes think you’re living.

LIBRA 9/23-10/23 You’re a Goth Emo through and through. Everybody knows you’re a hoe for Morrissey and your ideal night probably consists of laying on the floor listening to “Please Please Let Me Get What I Want This Time” by The Smiths on repeat.

You pretend not to have feelings, but we all know you do. You do.

SCORPIO 10/23-11/21

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AN INTERVIEW WITH PERFECT PUSSY DEANNA CASTELLO Earlier this month, punk band Perfect Pussy played an energetic and fast-paced set at Fall Fest. After their performance, I was able to sit down with the band (consisting of Meredith Graves, Ray McAndrew, Ali Donohue, Garrett Koloski and Shaun Sutkus) and ask them about their new music, tour and some of their most memorable worst shows.

DC: Back in October you premiered a new song at the AdHoc Car Wash that was for all the women who have sat alone in a Planned Parenthood waiting room. Did that song come from wanting to spread awareness of such a common occurrence or was it more for the people who have had to live through such a situation?

MG: Yeah, I’m here for the people who’ve been through that. We are discouraged from having those conversations in public, and we’re sick and tired of it. The fact that reproductive health care remains a mystery is the reason people still don’t have adequate access to it, so having those conversations publicly in a variety of formats is the only real way to change it.

DC: Is this new song an indicator of a new album coming up?

MG: Yeah, we’re writing a new record.

DC: And how is that process going?

MG: It’s not. We’re not in the same cities.

Shaun tour manages other bands and Garrett and Ali have had a hell of a time getting into their new house in Philly. Ray and I are in New York City. I work everyday as a writer and Ray works at a bar at night, so we don’t ever have time to see each other.

SS: We’re pumped, but we’re not preparing.

MG: Doing push ups.

AD: By doing all the things now that I can’t do on the road, like stay in my pajamas all day and cook food in my house.

MG: And eat vegetables!

AD: Yeah, basically.

DC: I’m interested in knowing what the worst show you ever played was.

GK: The worst show Perfect Pussy has played?

SS: There’s too many.

AD: One time we had this show we played in Detroit where like the circuit kept blowing and...

MG: That show was awesome!

GK: We have three or four songs that are done, or at least have guitar, bass, and drums.

AD: Exactly! Technically it was like the worst, but actually it was really awesome. And it was hella confusing because the lights and the sound kept cutting in and out but we kept going and that was cool.

MG: But we have like eight songs total.

SS: We don’t stop for nothing.

GK: Yeah, we probably have eight in the mix, but four of them are solid.

GK: When bad things happen to us we don’t really like look at it as a negative. We just flip it around and play it off as a positive.

DC: You guys have the tour coming up, with the dates starting in December. How are you guys preparing and are you excited?

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MG: The worst show in my estimation was after South by Southwest two years ago.

I got very sick and I didn’t know why. It

beach while I was high as hell on Percocet and weed lollipops. So it actually was lit.

RM: Big Sur was great.

turned out I had two infected teeth that had be giving me a fever, and instead I had [the emergency dental unit] put me on painkillers and Percocet. We finished the tour and I got all four of my teeth pulled two days after we got home. So the worst show for me was the one we never made it to because my face was so swollen. I was walking with a hand on the wall, because I had never had infected teeth before, and it was so fucking scary. So that was the worst show.

GK: That night in LA we played without Meredith and that was the worst show!

We set up a mic and we played four songs without Meredith because we thought “Oh, we can’t fucking cancel this.” So like we just played without her and everyone thought “What the fuck.” And then during the last song that we played, kids were fighting to sing the songs and then we were done.

MG: Big Sur was the best, but I was so sick I was laying in one spot, higher than I had ever been in my entire life, and miserable. But I was also laying on a purple sand beach in Big Sur, so there is no such thing as a bad show.

[To Ray, who had just entered the room:] We’re talking about bad shows.

RM: Oh, definitely the show in Houston. That was horrible.

GK: That was so bad! Let’s not talk about it!

DC: We don’t have to! I just wanted to thank you again for this interview - you guys were great.

MG: And I wasn’t even there to see it.

GK: And it was a ten minute set.

MG: After I got back from the hospital, I was on the phone with my parents and crying because they wanted me to come home and I said no because I was excited to the mountains in western Canada. A bunch of my friends went to the dispensary and brought me back weed lollipops and weed gummy bears. After a day on the antibiotics, the inflammation on my face went down, so we ate a ton of weed gummy bears and the guys took me to Big Sur to lay on a purple sand 7

PHOTOGRAPHED BY ALISON AHEARN

TOP 12 TAYLOR SWIFT SONGS

BY TAYLOR SWIFT’S #1 FAN

I started this as a list of top 5, then top 10, then top 12 plus 6 honorable mentions because I am Taylor Swift’s #1 Fan and cannot choose just TEN when there are SO MANY Swift-approved hits. I think it is pretty telling of Swift’s career and how much her sound has evolved based on the fact that her albums just keep getting better and better. And that’s just my opinion, but again, I’m Taylor Swift’s #1 Fan. Here’s my list. Fight me if you think I’m wrong.

“Forever and Always” - She recorded this song a week before the album came out and shoved it in Joe Jonas’ face.

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“ Clean” - The ultimate healing song.

When you finally wash yourself from the storm that was an unhealthy relationship, you emerge as a warrior.

And you get to hang with Imogen Heap.

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“Holy Ground” - Staying with the theme of healing from Red, this song perfectly portrays looking back on a past relationship, not with anger but acceptance. Also, it’s a BANGER. “Last Kiss” - Honestly, this might be the saddest break up song of all time.

Also, it’s about Joe Jonas. This is when Swift started to bring out her “I’m hurt but healing” side, which flowed very well into Red.

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“Untouchable” - This song is a cover of a band from Nashville called Luna Halo and it is so perfectly different from than the original that the band didn’t even recognize it when she played it for them.

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“Dear John” - This song is about an abusive relationship and might be the most mature Swift song (IMO). Yeah, it’s about John Mayer, but the concept is very real and very important.

“Fifteen” - Real as FUCK if you were 15 like I was when the song came out

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“All Too Well” - Not only the album version, but the Live Grammy’s 2014 performance. Powerful in two different ways. This song flawlessly encapsulates the feelings of a past relationship.

“New Romantics” - The #1 Squad Song that for SOME reason was only on the deluxe edition of 1989. ““Style” - This song was proof of Swift’s transformed sound, and it kills.

“Enchanted” - A song made of pure magic. Makes you feel like you’re swimming in Christmas lights. When she performs it live, she leads into “Wildest Dreams” and it is powerful enough to summon gods.

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“State of Grace” - This song signified a NEW ERA OF SWIFT. First song on Red which, as an album, was the perfect bridge between Swift as a country singer and Swift as a full-on pop QUEEN.

Honorable Mentions: “Long Live”, “Love Story”, “Out of the Woods”, the last 32 seconds of “The Other Side of the Door”, “Should’ve Said No” (I struggled to put a song from her self-titled on here), “Safe and Sound (ft. The Civil Wars)”

A DAY IN THE LIFE OF SERJ TANKIAN DAVID PETERMAN WAKE UP!!

• Eat something, perhaps with… sugar!

• Work on dismantling the global capitalist plutocracy • Make Dadaism cool again • Get a gun (preferably from Sako; one that’s cute, small, fits right in pocket) • Realize that Dadaism is eternally cool • Realize that evil lives in the motherfucking skin • Hope that stepsons don’t eat the fish • Watch Daron play in a game of old school Hollywood baseball • Eat seeds as a pastime activity • Instruct up-and-coming entertainers not to trust Hollywood • Whisper to random people that “they’re tryna build a prison” while offering a critique of the war on drugs • Tell everyone in the world that the forest is their source of life • Free your horse of remorse by surveying the skies with him • Have a dream that was made winding through the head or through her hair • Are you dreaming?

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I GO TO GAY OPEN MIC NIGHTS YARRA BERGER 1.

I go to gay open mic nights and I sing songs about you I sing songs that say things that I could never speak say out loud to you 2.

I don’t think you’re in love with me anymore you don’t want to hear any “I miss you” I leave you texts they sit for twelve hours

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BOBBY WOODY

THELMA

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PHOTOGRAPHED BY ALISON AHEARN

UNIIQU3 13

AVELLA FAN FICTION DAVID PETERMAN I slipped a note into his locker, addressed to Avella.

I remember the first time I had the opportunity to glance into his beautiful eyes. He looked at me.

My heart began pounding. Most girls wouldn’t even be in my vicinity but he looked at me and smiled. I had never felt more euphoric in my life.

Then he shot me a wink. ;) Oh my God, I thought.

It’s happening.

He began reaching into his case.

He took something out.

The gold, metallic, mystical luster of a strange machine was glistening, filling me with those unbearable feelings.

“Come to papa”, he whispered.

His mouth, surrounded by those wonderfully unruly chin tassels, met the end of the mysterious tube as he blew a gust of air.

Honk!

A delightful note.

Like the sound of a thousand angels singing as they open the gates of paradise. And they are Canada geese.

He was playing the saxophone.

Oh my God, I thought again.

It’s happening.

I felt myself blushing uncontrollably.

Flash forward to after his performance. He opened up his locker, and opened up the note to find my sentiments spilled onto the loose-leaf. It simply read: Hey, Avella, Wanna hold hands in the park?

-Guess who <3 If Avella’s rendition of “Number 9” by Moon Hooch was the theme song of my demise, I would surely die free of suffering. A faint memory of him standing in his glorious otherworldly loveliness during those coffeehouse open mic nights remains on my mind, comforting me and providing me with solace, yet driving me absolutely mad all the same.

Holler at me, Avella, you kawaii stud.

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DRUGS SCARE ME: SOBER, HIGH, SOBER ANONYMOUS I had been straight edge for eighteen years, until I asked my best friend to smoke me up one Thursday at Terra Ve. We made a tentative plan for the upcoming Saturday, until my girlfriend carried out the act eleven hours after I had announced my plans to break edge. Not knowing what to feel made me feel everything at once. Possibly a product of placebo effect or my own hypochondriac tendencies, the experience was at times incredible while simultaneously terrifying. I convinced myself I was no longer color blind, I saw flocks of birds in front of my eyes during the orchestral sections of Sufjan Stevens’ “Chicago”; I referred to my girlfriend’s hand as “feeling like white noise”. I put my thoughts under more scrutiny at given intervals, something I’d hoped the weed would alleviate.

Anything less than a positive thought made me morose and withdrawn. A whole array of emotions fought for place in my head as I sat cross legged on my girlfriend’s bed, Sufjan crooning the soundtrack to what was occurring.

I spent the rest of that weekend high, and continued until the following Tuesday. Sometimes my high would start as early as ten a.m., smoking a joint out of the window. The joint had a preferable effect: consistent relaxation. Vaping with a Magic Flight Box was a little less predictable; one hit more or one hit less could send me into both bouts of relaxation and uncontained excitement.

Smoking from a bowl didn’t seem worth the effort for something that made me feel tired and nothing else. My close friends all enjoy using a tabletop vaporizer, a device whose complexity is both intriguing and off-putting. Night after night is spent in one of their suites, listening to music and talking, the vape coincidentally there, with no forceful implications. In fact, this aforementioned group have been the most accepting people I’d ever met in regards to my sobriety.

But my sobriety still remains somewhat confusing to me. Minor Threat didn’t change my life; Fugazi did. My parents never instilled an inherent fear of drugs of any

sort, just hopes that I “wouldn’t do anything”. But at the same time, I never felt any inclination to engage in illicit activities. I existed in some strange limbo; me being straight edge felt only like coincidence, a coincidence I desperately clung to for years. One time, a girl broke up with me for being straight edge. She asked if her “being a pothead” bothered me and I told her not at all. When I flipped the question to apply to me, she simply said “I don’t know”. Such an experience could explain my unwillingness to ever break edge, a vindictive action aimed at all who are dismissive of lifestyle choices differing from theirs.

Even just a few weeks before breaking edge I had another experience that I felt reaffirmed remaining sober: On National Straight Edge Day (a holiday dedicated to straight edge is the equivalent to celebrating the existence of beer one day a year: absolutely pointless), The World Is a Beautiful Place & I Am No Longer Afraid to Die made numerous disparaging remarks at those who retain their edge on their Twitter account. I don’t care that you drink, I thought. Why should you care if I don’t? Or as my friend put it, “just fucking coexist”.

Right now, weed and sobriety are trying to coexist within me. They’re the last two pieces of a puzzle, yet they’re both the wrong pieces. About two weeks ago, I wrote “it’s either therapy or weed” in one of my notebooks, in reference to my ever worsening anxiety. One would result in breaking edge, while the other would involve dealing with my mother’s very own profession, possible an even more terrifying prospect. Weed won out, but should it have? The Saturday following the first Thursday started out pleasantly enough, with joints smoked with both my girlfriend and our two close friends, who have proved to be the most comfortable to get high with. It got to be the evening, in which different activities in recognition of it being Halloween began. In the aforementioned suite, edibles were consumed, alcohol was passed around, and the vaporizer was in full effect. I had arrived already high, and proceeded to take my very first hit from the tabletop.

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At first, the experience was enjoyable, and then it suddenly wasn’t. Too many plans were being made out of nowhere, it seemed like more and more people kept piling into the already cramped room, a friend of mine vomited, and so on and so forth. I sat in the corner on one of the beds, trying to remain calm. It got to the point where I felt like I couldn’t move. Fortunately enough, my girlfriend and I decamped to my room, where I stared at the ceiling listening to the Flaming Lips’ The Soft Bulletin while trying to relax.

At the moment, I’ve planned to remain sober for awhile once again. For every great high I had those few days, there was one that made me feel even more anxious, the exact opposite of what I wanted. Seeing my friends is more important to me, rather than getting high just to freak out in someone’s room and have to leave. But there are still certain situations in which I would definitely want to get high again. My best memory of those few days was going to the outlook at the Dunes with just my girlfriend at one in the afternoon. We smoked two joints and stayed for four hours, just sitting on a bench and listening to music.

That high was something indescribable, yet I knew that there was no other thought on my mind but where I was at that given moment. This was the feeling that I had always wanted.

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LIBRARY DAYS BEN VERDE

In our senior year of high school, my friend and bandmate Patrick gained access to the basement of our local library for us to throw all-ages shows with other bands. The first thing we did was scrimp together $175 to buy the junkiest, least reliable PA system on the market. We then found two other bands on Facebook who agreed to play. We spent the next month heavily promoting the show and passing out flyers.

On the day of the first show, my parents drove us over to the library around 11 AM (the shows were in the middle of the day, while the library was open). We hauled in all our equipment, decorated the basement with cheap streamers, and had our artist friends hang some work on the walls.

The hours leading up to the show proved to be the most stressful hours I had ever experienced at that point in my life; one of the amps stopped working, one of the bands was late, one of us felt terrible (we found out later she had been coming down with Mono). We were all cold, tired and hungry, and the show hadn’t even started yet.

Eventually, we got everything organized and the first band started to play. They were a bunch of kids none of us knew and they hadn’t said much to any of us when they arrived - they just sat around and looked bored. Their songs were okay, but not many people were into it; most people just sat in the back and talked amongst themselves (a nightmare). After the first band finished, they left before the next band started without thanking any of us or saying goodbye (another nightmare). This didn’t look like the tight knit scene we had been envisioning, but whatever. “Fuck those guys,” we figured.

The second band was a really fun surf-punk band called The Gulls, and they were really nice guys who we actually became friends with. They attended some of our shows and we attended theirs. It resembled a smaller version of the “tight knit scene” we had envisioned.

Eventually, we did six more library shows, which were some were the funnest shows we’ve ever played, and some were so sparsely attended we didn’t even want to start playing. Hauling heavy equipment in the snow didn’t seem worth it to play to ten people. Dealing with the bureaucracy of the library and the awkwardness of playing loud punk music in the middle of the day while people read upstairs eventually proved to be too inconvenient, and we stopped hosting shows last April.

Our shows never earned much of a following. Most of the people who attended them regularly don’t seem to miss them very much, and it will probably go unmentioned in the anthology of New York DIY music of the 2010’s, but it was a very valuable experience for all of us. Nothing has made me appreciate DIY spaces more than knowing first hand the amount of work you put in to receive little tangible reward. Those of us who attend and love DIY shows should really appreciate the people who work hard to put them together, cause they’re doing it all for you.

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COPELAND AND FRIENDS TAKE NOTHING FOR GRANTED ON THEIR FALL TOUR DEREK SHERRY

On September 8th, Florida-based indie-rock band Copeland announced that they would be embarking on their first headlining tour since breaking up back in 2009, enlisting the backup of bands Eisley and We Are The City.

Their tour started on November 5th, in Nashville, and will end on December 6th, in Orlando. I had the privilege to see their New York show on November 10th, at the Gramercy

anyone who ordered the package would receive a bunch of merchandise, including posters, a lapel pin, and a vinyl record. They were also entitled to an acoustic set and a meet-and-greet with the band. I was naturally nervous on the day of the concert, and consequently, got there an hour and a half early. I waited around until finally getting in line with other fans anxious to see the return of our

Theatre, and being a Copeland fan since 2010, it was an incredibly surreal experience.

Let me explain: In past interviews, Aaron Marsh, Copeland’s frontman, said that Copeland would not be getting back together anytime soon. Then hope resurged on April Fool’s Day of last year, when the band released their comeback announcement in the form of “Ordinary”, the first single off of their latest album, Ixora. I preordered a bundle package right away and eagerly awaited its arrival for nine months (something went wrong around late October, and the shipping date was pushed back). Regardless of the extended waiting period, it was absolutely worth it.

The day they announced their tour, I ordered a VIP package for the New York show and waited for two months, anxiously planning and listening to their discography on repeat. I was actually quite surprised that my friends hadn’t distanced themselves from me, because the tour was all I really talked about.

To understand what I was going through, imagine, dear reader, that the band you had grown attached to during those crucial, hormone-driven years of middle and high school, a band that you never thought you would see live, let alone in public, had just gotten back together and was taking their tour near you. Now imagine that you would be able to meet them. Is your heart beating in your chest ten times faster than it was before? Are you imagining what *insert favorite band’s frontman here*’s pores will look like up close? Are you imagining dying in their arms, happier than you’ve ever been? Well, that’s creepy, but you’re on the right track.

The way the VIP package worked was this:

favorite band until the doors opened at six.

We were shepherded to a lounge downstairs, where we were handed our posters, lapel pins, and VIP lanyards by a very friendly groupie. There we waited, sitting in a half-circle like kids around a bonfire at summer camp, for another fifteen minutes until Aaron and his bandmates, Bryan and Stephen Laurenson, came out of hiding and played acoustic versions of some of their hits and answered our questions. They were incredibly laid back, engaged with the fans, and they sounded fantastic.

After the set, we all got in line to meet the band, take pictures, and have our posters signed. When I made my way to the front of the line, I shook Stephen’s hand, then Aaron’s, and when I got to Bryan, he stopped.

“Wait, I think I’ve met you before,” he said.

My heart dropped. “Wait, where?” I asked excitedly.

“Umm, in my mind,” he replied. Everyone laughed, and we took the picture. I thanked them for their work, especially their last album, You Are My Sunshine, for getting me through some tough moments in tenth grade; it sounded insignificant to me, but they all seemed very touched and thanked me for listening.

After I bought more merchandise (because as a loyal fan, how could I not?), I went up to the theater and waited anxiously for an hour and a half, talking with fans and putting together a list in my head of the songs I wanted to hear them play the most. I was lucky enough to get a spot two rows away from the stage.

After what seemed like days of waiting, We Are The City finally came out and performed their set. I had never heard of them before I ordered a ticket, and I had only listened to their music the day before the show, but

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they gave the highest energy of the night. Andy Huculiak is probably the most talented drummer I’ve seen live; he was all over the place, sometimes even leaving the drum set and thrashing with the rest of the band. Cayne McKenzie’s voice was the smooth, natural element in the band’s otherwise electronic, pulsing sound, and David Menzel and Blake Enemark focused all their energy on their fantastic

and peppering “Disjointed”, “Erase”, and “Chiromancer” in between) and nostalgia (some of their best tracks from You Are My Sunshine; Eat, Sleep, Repeat; and Beneath Medicine Tree). Aaron’s light voice and piano, Bryan and Stephen’s guitars, Jonathan Bucklew’s percussion, and a trio of strings smartly arranged by Marsh all meshed perfectly to create an emotional retrospective of their fifteen years

guitar playing.

After the second offering of their half-hour set, Huculiak introduced themselves as “some kids from Canada” and thanked us for coming out. “Copeland and Eisley have been the nicest ever, and we’re so thankful and honored that they took us with them,” he said amid the crowd’s applause. We Are The City perfectly set up expectations for the night, and earned themselves another fan in the process.

Eisley came out next, for a forty-five minute set and it almost seemed like half the crowd showed up just for them. There were at least five different times during the set when the same fans would scream, “We love you!”

I didn’t know who Eisley was before the tour, either, but it became clear why Copeland picked them after their first song. Sherri and Stacy Dupree’s harmonies soared octaves, and Garron Dupree shook the ground with his bass. But the most powerful moment of the night was when Sherri recalled when she read a review of the last time Eisley performed at the Gramercy Theatre.

“The review was kind, but they thought I was brown-nosing the audience a little because I said ‘thank you’ after every song,” she said. “But I think I’m going to keep thanking you, because you don’t have to be here! You buy the tickets, so thank you so much for supporting us for so long.” They ended their set by announcing that they would be going back to the studio to work on a new album in January, and I’ll be looking out for it when it comes out.

And finally, after an hour and a half of anticipation, Copeland finally made their triumphant return. Their set was a perfect blend of their newest work (opening with the first track off of Ixora, “Have I Always Loved You?”,

together, and everyone in the crowd felt it.

I stood two rows away from Marsh, sitting at his piano, and we made eye-contact at least a dozen times during the performance. I saw the emotion he was feeling, and I felt the same. It was the most surreal concert-going experience I’ve ever had, as I was looking into the eyes of someone whose music had helped me through some dark times and seeing how hard he and the rest of the band had worked to make this happen. I will probably never forget it as long as I live.

Marsh took every opportunity to thank the crowd for coming and to thank Eisley and We Are The City for accompanying them on their month-long trek across the country. The gratitude felt universal in that theater, as the crowd cheered for at least a full minute for them. I had to leave early in order to catch a train, but I still felt like I had been a part of something incredible, something whole. I will never take that for granted, and something tells me that they won’t either.

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PHOTOGRAPHED BY ALISON AHEARN 20

INTERVIEW WITH A GREAT BIG PILE OF LEAVES BRUCE HAMILTON Q: So I’ve heard you’re currently writing your next album. What can we expect from the upcoming release?

A: Every day is an unending dream sequence from hell. My life is quite literally predicated on which way the wind blows; my physical composition changes at the will of whichever deity controls the flow of air in this dying realm, a world that promises me nothing except uncertainty. My kind is relocated and burned on a regular basis: the lucky ones end up in the woods, where, at the very least, they’ll be collected by nature lovers or shit on by wild animals.

The especially unlucky ones end up as metaphors for poetry students. Not all of us have it terribly, but nobody has it well off. We are plagued. Just leaf us alone.

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