A few things in my life have remained constant since I was 15.
My grey Target tank top
My first and only pair of Doc Martens
Modern Baseball
My dad showed me Modern Baseball. The scrappy Philly band, full of thorny lyrics and loud instrumentals, fueled and filled my teenage angst that would soon scratch and claw its way to the surface. Maybe it was Modern Baseball’s fault…or my dad's…or my impatience and need to be anywhere but the farm school I was stuck in my Freshman year of high school. I remember playing them the first time, and no joke feeling my brain shift. I started to listen to pretty good music, besides my 5 Seconds of Summer phase. (I still cherish that time).
On one of my trips to Denver to visit my dad, he surprised me with concert tickets to Modern Baseball. I was stoked. Now, it was my favorite show I’ve ever been to. In the moment, I had no idea how epic it would be that I could say that I saw them live. Joyce Manor opened, it was every whiny boy in Chicago’s wet dream. I wore Birkenstocks and a flannel to my dad’s disappointment. “Are you sure you want to have your toes out?” In hindsight, he was right. I tried to keep the X's on my hand for a week.
I still remember the concert. I felt starry-eyed and amazed that I finally got to see these guys. Everyone was freaking the hell out. Moshing, screaming, my dad giggling. Every strum of the guitar, bang on the drum, I could feel it. During the closing song “Your Graduation” my dad made me go down to the mosh pit. We stood on the right, I was too scared actually to go in, but I’m happy that he made me at least feel the edges of a mosh pit. Being in orbit feels just as good if not better than a punch to the face.
I came home to Nebraska, made all my friends listen to them, and also made my mom listen to all of us yell “BULLSHIT YOU FUCKING MISS ME” on the way to a high school football game. So much angst in that brown mini-van. My mom is a good sport and respected the Midwest Emo torture I was putting her through.
This year, my dad so graciously gifted me the Modern Baseball book in honor of the tenth anniversary of their epic album You’re Gonna Miss It All. He texted me to let me know so I wouldn’t buy it myself…I started crying. It was me, my suitcase was next to me, the blue line, and “Pothole” was on blast.
We opened the book up together in Chicago. Laughed and reminisced about how awesome that show was. But, this book took me back to that starry-eyed moment. It’s a perfect recollection and collection of photos that feel like their lyrics. The band is young and glowing and obviously tired, but you can just feel love from these photos. The photos are so beautifully taken by Jess. Jake wrote the most touching note to her on the front page.
“Certain people used to call Jess ‘the unzipper.’ On the road, she had the uncanny ability to capture us at our most joyful and earnest, but also at our most needful, our most aching. While everyone in the room was staring at us, Jess saw us. For that, we thank you, Jess.”
The band is goofy and playful, typing silly captions, and old memories, letting fans into their lives on the road. Looking at these photos I’m taken back to myself at 15, 16, 17 wanting so badly to be on the road like this. I wanted to be a boy in a Midwest Emo band and drink and smoke and not care about what was going on back home.
If you have a Modern Baseball lover in your life, gift them this book. They’ll cry and love you forever. This band was like Pandora’s Box. I heard “I hate worrying about the future/Cause all my fucking problems are based around the past” and kept running. Every anxious thought, every whiny moment, every night I spend walking home alone “after walking you home,” after
“nasty beer,” after I “could not muster the courage to say a single word,” Modern Baseball was there. Breakups, falling in love, screaming in a minivan when I was 15, and then again when I was 23, and that one time me and my roommate tried to sneak into the green room after a Slaughter Beach, Dog show with one too many wines flushing our faces and giving us wayyyy too much confidence. Modern Baseball is the whiniest siren song for me. I can’t escape, every year I get lured back in and eaten alive. I'll see you there when they go on tour again. <3.