Dekalb, Illinois

It was a battle of the bands, so I didn’t even need to book anything. I had signed us up about a month earlier, and out of laziness I used it as the first tour date. I figured if we won the battle, it would be a huge confidence booster to start the tour. If we didn’t win, it would be a low-stakes way to sharpen our set before playing in front of actual crowds. Of course, we all knew that the “crowds” would mostly be the other bands and their girlfriends, which wouldn’t be that different from the battle of the bands. But we can ignore that detail, just like me and The Pits did.

If you’re not familiar with Dekalb, Illinois, good for you. If you are familiar, you can nod in agreement when I say that it’s somehow cute, dull, vibrant, depressing, quaint, and void of culture all at the same time. It’s home to Northern Illinois University and about 40,000 people who have a hard time describing where they’re from when they’re on vacation, so they just say “Chicago” and hope no one asks “What neighborhood?” One thing it has always had going for it, though, is a small music venue called The House Café. Almost every local musician that has ever existed in the Greater Chicagoland Area has played there. The House Café was an institution for many reasons, but for me what always mattered the most was how well the management and staff treated the bands that came through. It didn’t matter if you were a bunch of 15 year olds playing your first show, or if you were a touring band that chose the café as your “Chicago” stop, not realizing how far it was from the city - you were treated like a fucking prince(ss). Not much more than an empty strip mall coffee shop that hadn’t been updated since 2003 with a small stage at the back, it had no backstage, no load-in door, and no room for a merch table. Show up, backline your shit, and get a cup of coffee and a sandwich. Small-town Illinois.

The battle of the bands events they had were interesting. You’d always be pitted against a touring act that was desperate for a Chicago (or Chicago-ish) tour stop, and teenagers who had somehow convinced half their math class to come out and tilt the applause in their favor. Which reminds me - there are judges, but they literally only exist to gauge who got a louder ovation. Loudest cheers wins. I’m not sure what the qualifications were to be a judge, but to this day I’m a little insulted I was never asked. My hearing has great depth perception, I could make a 3D map of that crowd. Like a fucking dolphin. We can talk about that more later. The point is, it was a weird system, but you were playing for keeps. And the prize you’d be keepsing was $50. When I budgeted for our tour, I assumed we’d get that $50 - that’s how we were buying dinner.