Woodstone - CRAZY TOUR STORIES

In this Crazy Tour Stories segment, Sean Eversen, from the indie band, Woodstone, shares one of his stories from being on the road. You can check out the story below:

Before the band name Woodstone even existed, in 2022, I was still going by my name, Sean Eversen. I had a couple of friends, all from New Jersey, and for the sake of the story, I will not be using any names to protect their identities. These friends played live with me, and in September, we packed into a little van and headed to do a couple of bar shows along the East Coast. One of our stops was in Delaware, where we decided to take acid right before our set at this local open mic outdoor music festival. But… it really never is just one drug, is it? One of my bandmates started passing out gel tabs and pills of molly like they were backstage passes. I said to him, “Whoa, we have a show to play; don’t you think it’s a little too early to melt our brains?” He looked at me with the straightest face, like he had pocket aces, and popped the candy-flipping combination right down the gullet. Well, fuck. Mind you, this was all thirty minutes before we were supposed to go on, leaving the perfect amount of time for all the fun to kick in. As much as I enjoy getting absolutely wrecked on a random Tuesday, I never once thought this was a good idea, but we all knew it would be hilarious. I partook.

So we finally got on stage, starting the set off with a groove/jam, and I was feeling good. I had my glasses on to protect my eyes from people looking into my soul, and I had plenty of beer at my feet in case things got out of hand. Like always, anytime I indulge, it all hits me so fast. I can tell you for a fact that this set was maybe a ten-minute jam, but it felt like a three-hour masterpiece. I truly believed in that moment that I was the reincarnation/love child of Jim Morrison and Jimi Hendrix. My manager at the time was pissed he couldn’t control us. We had zero class whatsoever. I remember staring at my band from the perspective of the audience because I was literally standing in the crowd, watching the band play (I thought I had teleported or that my spirit left my body and was watching me). The drummer turned into a manatee, the bassist turned into a caveman—I didn't know what was going on. I couldn’t tell you if I played a single note. The grass was a Van Gogh landscape, the trees looked like Tame Impala’s album cover Innerspeaker, and the moon took the form of their song “Nangs” as it wobbled for minutes at a time.

Eventually, our one-song set was over, and we were absolutely gonzo, with a rare case of the giggles. We stayed and watched other bands play at this hippie festival, and at one point, there was this lady exiting the crowd, fully naked, carrying at least a month-old naked baby on her shoulders. Nobody else seemed concerned at all, so I hope that wasn’t real, ‘cause it tripped me the fuck out. Our band then met up with some girls who were just as wild as we were. Each one of us ended up pairing off and splitting away. It must have been the molly flowing through our veins because I completely fell in love with a girl I met. So much so that I decided to ditch my band to go to Boston with her the very next day and stay for the weekend. We had a great time and kept the party going, but I knew I was looking through rose-colored glasses as the distance was too far for a real relationship to take place. Nevertheless, I tried to make it work and failed miserably. Reality brought me back down from a multiple-day trip as I headed home. With a shit set, a love lost, and a long way back, I had one thing left to do: write about it. Although it was one of the weirdest adventures I’ve had, I did create a pretty kickass album from it. Moral of the story: Let life guide you; you might be pleasantly surprised to see where it leads you. Here is a single off of Woodstone’s upcoming album Glass Skin, called “Touch of Adrenaline.”

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