The Girls Blog To Rocking Part 2

Jessica Hopper, author of The Girls Guide To Rocking, continues with her 12-city publicity book tour blog...

8/25 DC to Chapel Hill

This was the day where it really started to feel like tour, as in we are far from home and we are on an adventure together. I didn’t know the Ghost Bees personally before tour, and circumstances had come to pass that we were going to be constant companions for almost two weeks—anyone who has been on tour, or even been assigned a partner/buddy for work or school can tell you—it’s a huge relief that it was working out so well.

The GB’s, for the last eight years or so, had lived in the Maritimes in Canada—basically, as rural and low key as you can get without being in Newfoundland. They had used cell phones before, but not an iPhone or iPod, so once they figured out the GPS and how to skip to the next album or podcast—everything was smooth sailing. Sari rode shotgun and was in charge of the directions, phone and music. Romy was in the back, in charge of snacks and drinks and telling stories to keep us occupied.

On our way through Richmond, Va., we grabbed a copy of the paper and some glowing high-bounce balls at a gas station. Sari read to us about Michael Jackson’s autopsy and the local news of Richmond. When you are on tour, you think “Oh, I will bring this copy of War and Peace and finish it,” or “I will read the news online.” And you don’t. You can’t. You are just in an orbit around regular life.

Got to Chapel Hill, N.C. early to eat at two places. The first being Carrburritos, which was three blocks away in Carrboro. We freaked out over the fish tacos. I have not eaten there since the last time through on tour and that was nearly five years ago, and I have thought of them regularly since. I think the people working there thought something was wrong with us, since we were eating like this was our first experience with food. Then we went to the southern-cooking joint across from the venue, The Nightlight, which the girls had read about in a book about American road food. They have heard a lot about BBQ and it’s importance in the States, and we listened to a cooking podcast at one point that discussed “outside brown”—a regional term for the crunchy burnt stuff at the edge of the grill, and the girls have been asking about it ever since—except every time they call it the wrong thing—“ground brown,” “outside meat,” or “ground round”. The spot across the street did not have “outside meat,” though it did have sweet tea so sweet that I had to lay down after I drank it for fear I might puke during my reading.

The show was a little under-attended—and all adults. First day of school in Chapel Hill, so kids were out buying school supplies and moaning to their parents about new kids and teachers surely. Nevertheless, it was one of the BEST shows of the tour—there was a chronic laugher in the audience. He laughed at almost everything, and even exclaimed, “I love it!” out loud. It was really hard not to laugh while I was reading.  He wasn’t drunk. I asked.

The Ghost Bees were up next, and cracked everyone up—people were wiping tears away in between songs. They told an anecdote after their song about being born twins, about how a friend of theirs had a water birth, and then—I dunno if it’s true—but they said it was with dolphins. Playing it totally straight Sari says “Yeah, the dolphin helped deliver the baby” and Romy says, “Yeah, that’s what you are missing by not having socialized health care—dolphin births.” Then they made me stand in the middle of the audience and they bounced me the glowing balls.

Playing a show to only 23 people, at first I was kind of bummed. You want it to be packed, you want it to be worth everyone’s efforts, and have a chance to wow a big audience—but I forget sometimes about how totally magical a really small show is. It’s like a party, everyone is hanging out, the people who are there really want to be there. You can work some glowing high-bounce tricks into your act and yell, “I LOVE IT!” and it all makes for a good time.

Pink Flag headlined. They are like the post-teen Sleater Kinney of North Carolina, totally sassy and rocking. I saw a short documentary they made about their band when they were still in high school and I thought they were still that young—until I saw one of them crack a beer. They are all in college now, and are rock stars in the making—plus they get extra points for the singing drummer. They kept saying to Sari and Romy, “Y’all so cute!”—they also called the book cute, a first. “Cute” is bona fide praise in the south. I think everywhere else it’s reserved for animals and babies.