Dear Grace Potter and the Nocturnals:

I feel that we are all mature enough adults to be able to discuss this candidly. Responsibly. Honestly. With only the grown-up amount of giggle and blush.

I’m well aware of the fact that sometimes a man or a woman loves his or her instrument so much that it’s impossible not to get swept away in the passion that comes with a truly amazing jam. The musician almost forgets that a crowd of strangers are witnessing such a personal, visceral sort of fusion between human and inanimate object.

The instrument seems to live and love. The loving is good.

But guys, I have to level with you — I was starting to feel a little uncomfortable last night, as you guys engaged in…well, let’s just be frank here: simultaneous bouts of musical self-gratification.

I’ve witnessed this kind of thing before. I know it happens, I understand it — hell, if the jam’s good, I’m all for it. But y’all managed to crank it up to 11 on this one, and I’d never seen anything quite like it before.

It felt almost indecent of me to be there watching it all! Grace, you were working that piano bench with an intensity that would make Tori Amos blush, and then you fell to your knees, off the bench entirely! I know that Scott’s solo was hot — the spastic expressions on his face made it clear to all that he was working his instrument to its peak potential — but damn, girl! I didn’t know whether you were digging the sound or had tripped on a cord!

When you bounced back up again, you were working the facial expressions, the tossing of the hair, the flushed cheeks AND the arched back!

It’s been awhile, I know, dear band. After a few months recording or doing whatever it was you were doing in the time since the Shelburne show, it’s only logical that you would be enjoying the reconsummation of your band, a stage and the crowd. And in many respects, I was thrilled to be there along with you for the ride, as it were. It really was a hot kind of show.

But for those moments of that jam, I was standing a few rows from the stage, trying to remember what song prompted this, wondering about the time, pondering Saddam Hussein’s death and debating whether I should back out of the performance speace to let you get to whatever place you needed to reach in order to come back down. You could have called us back in, gang, it would have been totally cool.

The wise and talented Matt Nathanson has been known to remark on audience members that don’t participate in singalongs as the person at an orgy who stands in the corner and eats potato chips as he or she watches.

I’m going to be at the New Year’s Eve show. And since I obviously can’t get up there with you all and jam (unless you want me to help out on tambourine, because I could totally rock that, I’m just sayin’) could you answer me one small question?

Do I need to bring a bag of Lay’s along for tomorrow night’s set?


P.S. All innuendo-laced discussion joking, a lovely long night of music — good times and good to have you back around these parts! xoxo.

Grace Potter and the Nocturnals Grace Potter and the Nocturnals Grace Potter and the Nocturnals Grace Potter and the Nocturnals Grace Potter and the Nocturnals