Suburban Generals

After my college emancipation, I struck out looking for work and landed a gig writing band reviews that would pay for my concert addiction. In one of my first professional solo assignments, I found myself shipped off to Boston to review a concert by a “random” recently reunited trio.

Co-opting Nantucket Nectar’s annual Boston jamband gathering as their swan song, Dispatch had decided to reunite for one final performance, timed just right for the summer festival season.

So, in an unexpected twist of fate, I found myself once again backstage at a Dispatch show, surrounded by many of the same groupies, journalists, and band jockeys that had filled up the band’s laminate list back when I was in college.

Standing side-stage, I watched Dispatch wade through their catalogue, nodding to the overcrowded audience members hanging from a bundle of nearby trees during “Bats in the Belfry,” and cautioning a team of fans to “take it easy” after a few water bottles went flying a little too close.

The group preached about independent music, voting rights, and grassroots activism, but it all got lost in the suburban hiss. As the evening’s energy peaked during “Even,” the group lost control of their crowd, succumbing to another water bottle war. One bottle hit the soundboard and subsequently marred the group’s best song. Looking out into the sea of Abercrombie shirts, Dispatch remained, after all their success and four year hiatus, the sound track to any number of Saturday activities.

Returning to work the following Monday, I received a press release from the group’s publicist.

“Dispatch stuns 110,000” the email blitz shouted. Quickly checking with a few blue and gold onlookers, I found this assessment a bit overstated—in fact, about double the concert’s actual attendance. But it seemed fitting for a band that squawked about playing the gym as soon as people started paying attention to them at the bar. And, if Dispatch is at all a symbol of college rock’s potential professionalism, this group unfortunately missed the class on time and patience.

At times I wonder how a band with so much potential could implode before their popularity truly exploded. Perhaps it’s my inner anthropologist talking, but to me, Dispatch symbolizes a generation of jam-bands who cut their chops in college, not in the streets of Haight-Asbury. Either way, at least Dispatch’s recorded remains will provide scholars like myself with clues for years to come.