After Nations - CRAZY TOUR STORIES

In this Crazy Tour Stories segment, Andrew Elliott, the guitarist of the post-metal band, After Nations, shares one of his stories from being on the road. You can check out the story below:

I’ve been on eleven US tours with After Nations, consisting now of a few hundred shows—and in that time, I’ve seen some things. We’ve driven through a flash flood in the Utah desert, using a phone’s camera to see (its compression made the rain appear less dense and gave greater visibility than our eyes in those conditions); a previous member (Tyler X-Bears Mehaffey) was bitten by a fan so hard it drew blood and scarred one of his tattoos after a show in Houston; I’ve had explosive diarrhea moments (literal moments) before needing to get on stage and play a show in front of a few hundred people in Seattle (the show went on without delay—fastest shit of my life, bar none); and once, at the home stretch of a tour in Phoenix, when everyone was pretty shot and exhausted, we were graciously presented by long-standing music friends with a literal tray of what I’m going to describe as “energy powder” at a show’s after-party—which was the only thing keeping us going at that point.

But amid the rapid pace and unpredictability of touring, it’s the people we meet who most profoundly shape our experience on the road. One of the most incredible, beautiful, and inspiring people I’ve had the gift of meeting over the years has been Sherrill Phelps (I share her name with her consent). In 2016, we played a small, mid-week show at an art gallery called Kamiposi in Midland, Texas. A guest there (Sherrill), a friend of the venue’s owner, offered to host us and let us crash at her place.

We smoked (too much), drank (too much), wore a horse mask and flailed our bodies (for just the right amount of time), and took photos together with a framed, weathered portrait of KFC’s godhead, Colonel Sanders himself (as the gods intended).

Sherrill radiated generosity and warmth. She was kind, inviting, and funny. She fed us homemade brisket that she had spent days preparing. She shared hours of incredible music we hadn’t heard before—including Cheer Accident and Devin Townsend. And we discovered in conversation with her that this way of hosting musicians and caring for them was a long, storied practice for her—filled with some absolute legends of musicians and artists with whom she had developed connections and relationships.

When I got back from that tour, I mailed Sherrill some beer I had brewed, and she replied with zucchini bread and a unicorn-shaped USB drive, absolutely loaded with yet more incredible music.

There are people who love music as a passion and interest. And there are people who love music as an action, a process, and a way of coming to musicians—a way of building and sustaining community. She is one of those incredibly rare folx who stands firmly in both camps.

To this day, I remain inspired by Sherrill’s kindness and her active practice of care. She embodies wisdom as living truth—something that nurtures and grows us in all dimensions of our lives through community, connection, and love. She reminds me of the sacredness of music and of the connections we create through sharing it together.

Cheers, Sherrill!

Keep up with After Nations on their website and Instagram.