Rocking Heather-Style

This past weekend I rocked the metropolises of New York City and Boston as part of my duties as the guitar player for Heather. We were playing two nights in a row with our friends in Mr. Brownstone, America’s preeminent Guns n’ Roses tribute band, which features Heather bass player Drew in the role of Duff.

The first of the two rock attacks took place at North Six in Williamsburg, a club I had never played before. I was feeling a little bit under the weather before the show, so when someone from one of the opening bands, Soy Dracula, offered me a glass of whiskey before our show, I decided to drink it with the idea that it would somehow help my cold. In the end, however, it just made me sort of wobbly and unable to focus on my guitar playing very well without closing one of my eyes during the more difficult passages. I felt kind of bad about this as I generally try to bring my A-game at all times when it comes to matters of rock. I hope the kids didn’t notice my lack of composure.

After our set, I caught a little bit of Mr. Brownstone’s set (which featured the excellent Corn Mo in the role of Axl) before joining my cousin Kieran and friend Patrick at a nearby bar where they were having a tribute of sorts for Dimebag Darrell. We stayed for a drink before I headed home to finish off a bag of cookies I had bought the night before. This turned out to be a bad idea as I was awakened at 5am by the uncontrollable urge to puke everywhere. Sometimes I don’t make the best choices.

On Saturday morning, I awoke feeling like a champ and ready to rock Boston. I met the rest of the Heather fellas at the car rental place and we proceeded to drive in the general direction of Boston for a few hours, only to get lost at one point and somehow end up in the great state of Vermont. If someone would have told me earlier that day that I would be in Vermont at any point in the next 24 hours, I would have told them they were crazy but then there I was totally standing in the state of Vermont trying to figure out how to get to Boston on time to rock the people of that fair city.

In the end, we got back on track and got to Boston in one piece for the most part. For the record however, we did have to pull over at one point so I could puke again, but I am attributing this largely to motion sickness and my inability to eat at McDonald’s without getting violently ill. No offense to the McDonald’s people or anything- we had a great run there for the first 18 years of my life, but somewhere along the line my gastrointestinal system changed and became not-so-Big-Mac-friendly anymore. Don’t beat yourself up about it.

Unfortunately I got to Boston too late to have dinner with my sister and her husband as planned, but I got to hang out with them for a bit before the show anyway, which was nice. My sister is pregnant and it was pretty wild seeing her all with child and everything. At first I thought she had a pillow under her shirt but then upon closer inspection she was totally pregnant. Life is beautiful.

Our show was at the Paradise Theater and was sold out, which is always nice. Since I was feeling a bit under the weather still (and had puked twice in the last 24 hours), I decided not to drink anything but water and delicious Coca-Cola before and during our show and I was a better man for it. It was one of our best show’s in a while and the people of Boston seemed to dig it as far as I could tell.

After our set, we stood and watched Mr. Brownstone for a while from the side of the stage while trying to pelt them with pizza, which is something that happens when a bunch of guys who live the rock-n-roll lifestyle all get together to play some shows at a club where they deliver like ten pizzas to your dressing room. I watched Mr. Brownstone for about six or seven songs before deciding it was time for bed and jumping in a cab out to my sister’s pad outside of scenic Boston. She and her husband recently moved into a great house that kind of had me rethinking most of the choices I’ve made in my life. Maybe I should have just gone ahead and gotten a job after all. Oh well, at least I have cable.

On Sunday morning, after a delightful brunch with my sister near her house, I piled into Mr. Brownstone’s van (the rest of the Heather guys headed out the night before) and drove back to New York in what proved to be an entirely puke-free trip home. On the way, we stopped at a gas station and Corn Mo and I each bought some delicious chocolate bars that we both seemed to be pretty excited about. He got milk chocolate with some extra bullshit in it and I got dark chocolate because that’s just how I live my life.

When I got back to Brooklyn, I fell into a deep sleep that only comes after a long weekend of rocking people and occasionally puking and stuff. It felt good.

Dave Hill