Otis Shanty – Nobody’s Party | Single Review

Relief Map Records

“We’re here!”

I felt the old Land Cruiser lurch to a stop as my friend yanked the parking brake, which was more of a gesture of faith than a safety measure. The slow, heavy car slipped out of gear at least once a month, parking brake or not. I sighed and carefully opened the door, easing myself into the cool summer evening. I could hear laughter and loud music pouring through the golden windows of the house we’d trundled through miles of scrubby pines to reach. “There’s a party on Friday,” my friend had told me. “You should come. We’ll take the tank.” 

The driveway seemed a hundred feet long, though my friend was already nearly to the house, battered Docs kicking gravel ahead of them. I scurried to catch up, breathlessly fumbling for my earbuds in my jacket pocket. Shoving one into my ear, I pressed play on the latest single from a band I had recently discovered. Warmth flowed through the earbud like honey melting into hot tea. We were almost to the door.

My mind flashed back to the drive over. “What do I talk about?” I had asked my friend as we rumbled and bumped down narrow country roads. Their eyes darted over to me, then back to the road. 

“Music, probably.” They slowed to avoid a pothole but hit it anyway, adding, “Maybe that new band you’ve been into? Otis Shanty?” 

My head hit the roof as we plowed through another pothole. I hesitated. “Okay.” 

~

Boston indie rockers Otis Shanty make music that is sweet and hazy, laced with melodies that cling to your mind like smoke to your clothes. The group has two EPs and an album already under their belt, and with the forthcoming release of their sophomore album, Up On The Hill, through Relief Map Records, the future is bright for the four-piece. According to the band, while their new album has “a connection to the Early Birds EP, there is also an expansion both sonically and lyrically.” Today, we’re treated to a fresh taste of the album with “Nobody’s Party,” following up the group’s previous single “Why Do I Care?” which dropped on July 16th. 

Tackling the uncomfortable subject of social dynamics, “Nobody’s Party” perfectly conveys the confusing and overwhelming feelings that so often accompany going out. Parties and gatherings become a balancing act - am I talking too much? Was that cringe? Am I being friendly enough? The band thoughtfully commented on the concept of connection at parties:

“I don’t think that the notion of a party in the U.S. makes room for authentic connection around core values, which is what I often crave. Parties are so often a physical manifestation of the desire for social capital: we dress up, drink, and shmooze to feel a part of something. But sometimes, the anticipation, awkwardness, hangover, and embarrassment aren’t worth it. I don’t want to trade authenticity for social capital, but at the same time, I don’t always pursue my genuine thoughts and desires out of fear of being misunderstood. Ultimately, it’s a struggle with confidence that is hard to break out of.”

For myself, I generally feel drowned out in social settings, often taking the backseat as a listener rather than vying for the spotlight. I tend to worry about how I am perceived in these settings, not from a desire for others’ approval but rather from the fear that I will present myself inauthentically. Small talk is painful, sure, but who among us is willing to open up about their hopes, dreams, and fears to a stranger in their living room? (Especially when you’re struggling to be heard over whoever is blasting Pop Goes Punk through a tinny Bluetooth speaker.)

“Nobody’s Party” earnestly captures this paradox of feeling - sweet guitars wrap the listener in a warm embrace, an oddly comforting contrast against the raw lyricism. The mix on this song is beautifully done - the bass drives the nostalgic chords while the guitars and vocals float above it like mist. The drums are delicately balanced above the entire thing like a copper mobile, dancing with light. The song hits heavy from the very beginning - in the opening lyrics, vocalist Sadye Bobbette describes the inner turmoil of going through the motions at yet another party: 

Same old crowd here
Spinning the same old conversation
Sometimes I choke on a sentence
Oh, seconds away from losing my tongue on the floor
Seconds away from losing my mind 

Putting on a smiling facade while forcing down the lump in your throat is an act of emotional bravado that seems impossible to maintain. But is the comfort offered with honesty worth the pain of vulnerability? At the peak of the song, Sadye repeats my favorite line over and over as she is echoed by her own voice. “Anything will fly with the roof detached, anything will fly with the roof detached.” Distant shimmering gang vocals press the chorus to a cathartic high, and tears sting my eyes as the band crashes around me like a wave. “I don’t do what is best / When it’s hidden in plain sight / So I stay one more minute / For the last time of tonight.”

~

I slipped through the kitchen door to the back porch. “Man, it was loud in there,” I mumbled to myself, hands once again searching for the security of my single earbud. I leaned against the rough wooden siding of the house and watched as the stars emerged above me, pin-pricks against the velvet of the infinite void beyond. My friend’s laugh erupted from the kitchen like a firework, bigger than all the rest, though it did not demand attention. I often wished I were more like them: more confident, more easy-going, more ready to laugh.

I had the same Otis Shanty song on a loop - “Nobody’s Party.” I figured it made sense for the evening, and I was fixated on it anyway. I closed my eyes as the song swirled around me, purple and orange phosphenes dancing briefly against my eyelids as I hummed along. “I don’t do what is best / When it’s hidden in plain sight / So I stay one more minute / For the last time, for the last time.” My throat was thick with tears as I heard the door open, but I didn’t open my eyes to look over. There was no need.

My friend settled against the house beside me, lighting a wilted cigarette. We stood under the heavy swath of night for a few moments before I heard them clear their throat. I braced myself for the question I thought was coming.

“What are you afraid of?”

My eyes blinked open as I looked at my friend in surprise. They were staring at me intently, the cigarette glowing like a lighthouse as I covertly wiped my eyes. Taking a shaky breath, I put my earbuds in my pocket and answered.

Across the yard, the Land Cruiser slipped out of gear.


Britta Joseph is a musician and artist who, when she isn’t listening to records or deep-diving emo archives on the internet, enjoys writing poetry, reading existential literature, and a good iced matcha. You can find her on Instagram and Twitter @brittajoes.