Archive

Sick of Sarah on Tour: Surviving the “Bittersweet” Video Shoot

This edition of a monthly column by Sick of Sarah – whose music can be heard weekly on Brunch with Bridget, and on a recent episode of South of Nowhere – is written by guitarist and vocalist Katie Murphy.

When I was shown the treatment for the “Bittersweet” video, I thought either I had gone crazy or just misread something. After a quick double take, it was obvious that Shane Nelson, the director/ producer was the crazy one. Seriously, was this guy off his rocker? He must be.

Sane people don’t plan to spend hours on a ski hill in the middle of the night during March in Minnesota. They cuddle up fireside with their cats, cocoa, and warm socks. Sane people don’t put guitar amps, expensive instruments, and five unsuspecting women on shoveled out make-shift platforms of snow. They find a stage in an indoor venue (with heat of course) and film some live shots. Possibly throw in some rowdy, alcohol influenced randoms, and call it a wrap.

By the time the evening was over, I was glad Shane opted for what I have chosen to call “the insane approach”. This guy has complete passion for his video ideas just as we do for our music, so there was no choice but to follow suit and go with his vision and whatever was in store for us that evening.

We arrived at Buck Hill Ski Area in Burnsville on Wednesday night, March fourth for a ten o’ clock call time. In the distance I saw about ten to fifteen people rummaging through equipment, adjusting lights, and walking in and out of what I would later find out was our “warming” tent.

Considering it was after hours, there were no ski bunnies out so we got a clear view of Shane flying down the bunny hill on the back of a four wheeler to greet me and the rest of Sick of Sarah. It had been months since we had seen him directing the shoot for our “Daisies” video, which at that time was a chilly experience. He was sporting facial hair that would make Grizzly Adams question the legitimacy of his title. I would assume, being behind the scenes, sane people would take advantage of the option to wear a hat, mittens, and/or their whole winter wardrobe. But he decided against any and all of those things.

The band followed Shane into the chalet and awaited our fate, I mean, instructions as to the process of the shoot which basically consisted of us getting ready as we would for any other show and catching the next available ATV up the hill towards all the commotion.

As a born and raised Minnesotan I know certain precautions were necessary in order to avoid frostbite and/or hypothermia. We tripled up on long sleeved shirts, socks, and anything thin we could find in the absence of goose down jackets and woolen hats.

When I reached the top of the hill, I noticed a small, black, cube-shaped object next to each of the lights. I decided not to bother Shane with questions and head into the “warming” tent. And I use the term “warming” quite loosely. In there we waited for a brief few minutes and got the call to get on set. When I went back outside I saw all of our equipment strategically placed on plastic sheets in the snow. A few members of the crew were shoveling out some “flat” spots for each of us to pretend rock on.

I was quite wary, as I am sure the rest of my band mates were, about playing in the icy snow wearing Chuck Taylors, the worlds most winter unfriendly shoe ever created. Nonetheless, we grabbed our winter unfriendly instruments and walked to our marks in the snow. Shane screamed for quiet on the set, and I heard the familiar opening guitar riff for “Bittersweet” come through the speakers.

We played through the song two to three times, and I could tell by the look on the girls faces they had frozen to the bone halfway through the first playback just as I had. It was at that moment that I realized I had no idea just how intense and insane this night was going to be.

Fingerless gloves sure looked good, but that was definitely the only purpose they served, and hand/ feet warmers did nothing for us in the twenty-two degree weather. Then Shane took it a step further and informed us that the next few times we would hear the playback of our song, it would be sped up. Our three-and-a-half minute song was played in less than two. Fast enough to where Abisha’s vocal track sounded like it belonged on an Alvin and the Chipmunks record. He does shots like this in order to get the slow motion look on film when brought back to original speed after editing.

As a musician, it is difficult to not at least attempt to play in time, let alone in time with your own song and perform on stage (or snow hills) to the best of your ability. Well….. we did our best.

Playing double time then triple time was a complete joke. There were instruments, confusion, and hair flying everywhere. It’s impossible to internalize a beat when you can’t even come close to hearing one.

Not only that, but the slippery conditions had us falling all over ourselves and at times each other (sorry Jamie). After playing through the extra super crazy fast version of “Bittersweet” what felt like a hundred times, we noticed we had gathered a bit snow on our backsides and up past our ankles. This was getting more treacherous by the minute. Thank the Lord and Shane, we then got a break.

Down the hill came five frozen girls on two vehicles. We all ran into the chalet and pretty much collapsed on the floor embracing the beautiful, glorious heat. Off came the Converse and the second layer of socks. A few supportive friends had come to the shoot and took on the role of personal feet/hand warmers. Bless all of you. Yes, yes,

I am aware that I confessed to being a born and raised Minnesotan and that means I should be used to these conditions. Well these conditions usually involve outerwear, so please hold your criticism. A few of us wet our whistles with a bit of whiskey; at least we could attempt to warm our bellies, right? Back up the hill we went for round two.

I returned to my respective place in front of my amp, to the right of my bass player and gazed at all that was around me. I saw four of my favorite people shivering behind their instruments. I saw crew members running around, re-shoveling our “stage”. Off by the “warming” tent I saw a few of our friends wrapped in blankets. How interesting and strange my life had gotten on this particular Wednesday. There I was playing guitar in the snow with no feeling in any of my extremities but I was, all of a sudden, beyond ecstatic to be there. Something must have snapped inside me because I then came to embrace the “insane approach”. I became wired and overwhelmingly happy about my current state. I was practically bouncing off the snow banks. Then as if on cue the small, black, cube-shaped objects next to the lights showed their purpose. They were “blizzard in a box” or snow machines as they are more typically called. Instantly the whole set was filled with flying snow that later I learned was actually a flakey type of soap. (My guitar got her first and last bath that night. Not cool). The effect was perfect with the black sky behind us and millions of little soap flakes filling the air.

The snow was falling, and the chipmunk band was in full force. All this craziness had fueled an internal riot in each of us – we not only made the best of it, we really had the time of our lives. And my, how it showed. Midway through playback #87 I see Abisha swinging her microphone in true Abisha fashion – on her knees mic hitting the ground kicking snow up all around.

If you’ve ever seen our live show this comes as no surprise. In one grandiose launch she threw the mic into the air and continued to rock as if she’d actually forgotten about it. However, the mic does not forget so quickly. It found her forehead with a heavy thud and left our poor lead singer shocked, stunned, and sporting a lump on her head that Tiger could tee off. Refusing to look at her battle wound, she powered through to the end of the shoot, thankfully without an obvious concussion. And that’s a wrap.

You have to be slightly off center already to do what we do. I think It really comes down to a team of passionate crazies all striving to create something awesome. For artists, its about your own brand of craziness. It’s insanity that drives your passion if your passion doesn’t first drive you insane.

Lesbian Apparel and Accessories Gay All Day sweatshirt -- AE exclusive

Related Articles

Leave a Reply

Back to top button