Tour Diary #2: Timeshares

Downstate, NY-based Timeshares are sending AP updates from their east coast tour that's brought them to Stay Sweet Fest and back. Guitarist/vocalist Jonathan Hernandez's second entry is below.

4/10-4/12, West Chester, PA to Washington, DC. Mama, I Know We Broke The Rules

On Tuesday, we headed to Spraynard's hometown of West Chester, PA. All of the members of Spraynard either work at, or have worked at Grand Slam USA in Malvern. I called for what only seemed natural: a laser tag duel between ourselves and Spraynard.

That might sound exciting, but two paragraphs in and this is already a remarkably anti-climactic entry, because nothing like that happened. Only Mark joined us. Mark is really fucking good at laser tag though. Our squad was split. For my team I chose Jarad, who after sharing a riveting round of L.A. Machineguns, made me feel we had a certain chemistry with fictional firearms. I also selected Jason, whose demeanor always led me to believe he's familiar with the Art of War. Our team also included Mark, and if I haven't mentioned it yet, Mark is really fucking good at laser tag.

Our opponents were the well-meaning Mike Natoli, and the all-brawn Eric Bedell, who were carried by terrifying sniper Ed from NONA, and cold-blooded assassin Andy Gardiner of Slugging Percentage. We fought hard but they demolished us, with a rich knowledge of the terrain and remarkable cunning. In Game 2, Mark left us, and all seemed hopeless. The taste of defeat is vile, much like couscous in the way that I never want it in my mouth again. The squad plays accordingly, myself and Jason signaling each other around corners like soldiers. One could call us the Ass-Compactor, in that we crushed their asses in Game 2. Perhaps the greatest victory of all was to find Eric Bedell even more drenched in sweat than I was afterwards. It seemed we'd found one more shared passion, to throw atop the small pile with old Motown records, the work of Kurt Vonnegutt, Paul Simon's Graceland album, and eggs.

The show is fun, and we play a couple songs that we haven't played in a long time. We're excited that Spraynard's home court will give us a restful evening, where we remain well behaved and far from booze, but I still manage to wreck my voice talking shit while playing Super Smash Bros. Whoops.

That's why in Baltimore at Charm City Art Space I “Greg Brady” my way through our set. If you're not getting the reference, I'm trying to tell you that I didn't do so hot. Just Die! plays, and Just Die! is awesome. Matt Evans is in our fictional “You guys are way too pretty for this” band, that should become a real band and roll around in all the money they would make regardless of what the songs sounded like. He's joined by James Goodson from Hold Tight! on bass, and if I remember correctly, Eric Bedell is temping on drums until we think of a better one. Eric Bedell is getting a whole lot of spin in these things, isn't he?

That night I land a room to myself in the basement of the house we crash in that night. Guys in Dartagnan and Paul Newman And The Ride Home live there. One thing having a room to yourself knocks home is how much you actually miss sleeping in a room by yourself. You can roll over without elbowing anyone, you can reach for your phone without sticking your fingers in somebody's mouth. The peace isn't all too uncharacteristic of most nights on this trip though, and that gets me thinking; what's different this time? The nights are quieter, and there's been none of the regular bullshit and nonsense of us scampering off with practical strangers to wherever they could take us to do whatever the stupidest thing available was. This sort of thing is how we became close with a lot of people I've even mentioned typing all this crap up. We've taken pride in our knack for the stupid, and our resumes speak for themselves.

When this band used to tour a little more early in its inception, there was a lot more uncertainty, but the funny thing was back then it wasn't about the band itself at all. In some capacity all of us were in a major state of flux, somewhere between serious relationships, living situations, stages of our lives. And even though you'd never wish it back on yourself, there's a certain require to live brought out of you when you're not sure where, what and who you're coming home to. I think misery and fear drove us to holding the nights to a high set of demands, their own responsibility. We would joke that Spraynard was going to keep us well-behaved, but in reality I think it's that now there's a lot of stability between the four of us, and really I should say the five of us. Now there's less anxiety when the phone rings, and sleep lost over what's next. Now there's a lot less “Jarad woke up in front of an apartment building and doesn't know how to get back here,” “Quick, come pick me up, I've made a terrible mistake,” and especially my personal favorite, “Natoli's going to fucking kill us.” Granted, the mornings are much easier, but part of me misses the old uncertainty. I think it's where we thrive. And we're going to have to make another record one of these days.

The show begins at 1 PM and takes place right outside the door of the room I pass out in. Good friends in The Headies and Mixtapes turn up for this one, and it's a lot of fun having everyone around and hanging this early in the day. Rachel Taft, a Baltimore hero (to me), is the mind behind Feed The Scene, a small organization she began to make sure out of town bands had an okay meal, and she valiantly fed all the bands at both the show the night before, and this one. After our set, I stumble out to her station at the grill in time for her to hand me a steaming steak hunk on a bum. It frightens and almost disgusts me how much my body is absolutely singing at its first real taste of delicious red meat since we left on this jaunt.

We don't get to stick around, because there's another show that night at The Wasted Dream house in DC. This would be Timeshares' first show in DC, and the entire evening is pleasant. Despite what I said earlier, pulling the double header was long and tiring, and after the show getting a meal at the Black Cat and then getting put up for the night by David from Max Levine Ensemble is exactly what we need. I get to spend a couple hours sitting down with various Spraynards, Eric and David, shooting the shit about records and bands. The show itself that night is a best-case scenario for a first show in DC. There are baked goods, and a wonderful basement, where everyone packs in on each other and the band can even have a tough time fitting. We get to share the bill with, among others, a sweet trio named The Harrison Four who makes me giddy with a perfectly scripted segue into a cover of “Gonna Find You” by Op Ivy. We meet and get to hang with their bass player Tom, and I have no idea at this point about the moonshine he'll make me drink in Richmond, VA the coming weekend. That's at Stay Sweet, and we have to wake up and drive there first. It's there where my opportunity to get all of this pent-up stupid out of my system. I think we're all very happy to not have to go anywhere near the stage on Friday night. The past couple days are long, and now it is I who feels he is in the Ass-Compactor.