i had the pleasure of going to a concert for one of my favorite bands, tennis, a few weeks ago. get this: main guitarist and his wife (the lead singer) spent an entire year on a boat, sailing up and down the east coast. and then they wrote an album about it. now if that doesn’t get hurt your ovaries, i don’t know what will. i’m a bit obsessed with them, to say the least.
their music has basically been my bostonian summer playlist. when i first moved here they sounded like what i thought cape cod would be like. warmed up oceans. scaldingly hot, white sand. aloe after a sunburn. my mom and i used to buy the following two snacks whenever we went to the beach in florida: coca cola and that “smart food” white cheddar popcorn that came in the crinkly black bags. and i swear to you, my pavlovian response to tennis and their music is to get a huge 20oz coke and a bag of white cheddar popcorn. it’s that good.
and their opening act? amazing! i ended up making two friends during the opener, hospitality. frank and herb were my new friends, in their polos and chinos. they were both most likely fathers of three children and for some reason a lo-fi, obscure band seemed like the perfect way to start their friday night off. we guessed what song tennis would open with (i won) and herb told me he was going to see the kooks next month, but only if his son lost his basketball playoffs, and i told him i would cross my fingers for his team to lose.
ergo, the beauty of going to concerts by yourself. frank. herb. summer jams. and white cheddar popcorn.