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Lifestyles
Of The Not-yet Famous by Erin Kosnac Are We There Yet? Dennis' voice is quiet and calm and almost soothing as he talks about The Party of Helicopters' success. "It's really nice to think about it," he says in a voice not at all resembling the one that filled Europe Gyro. "I'm really glad, I guess. I'm really glad that it happened. And I feel kind of lucky." And he feels lucky even though he isn't exactly where he imagined himself at this point in his life. "When I started being in bands and was just a musician, I loved the idea that this was all I had to worry about," Dennis says. "At that point I decided that's all I was going to do forever. "I thought then that by the time I was 23, I would be riding around in a limo. That's what I told myself when I was 17. Wouldn't that be the coolest life ever? Now it seems like these things could really take a long time. But I still imagine myself doing it for a long time or forever as easily as I can imagine myself doing anything – just not as a 23-year-old anymore." But taking his position at the front of the stage for The Party of Helicopters has its own perks. "It's kind of neat to be at the front of that wall of noise that we're creating," he says. "It's kind of like enjoying a kind of buzz you might get off of whatever you might want to catch a buzz off of – at least right now that's how it seems to me." And right now a big portion of the band's success can be attributed to Stillman, Brannon says. "I have to give Jamie credit," he says. "I'm sure his head will be big enough. But if he didn't do stuff, nothing would ever get done. We'd never take the initiative to follow through with ideas.
"When I first met Jamie in high school, he was in bands and making tapes and selling them at school. It never seemed like a big deal to him -- putting out records, selling them at shows. None of this has ever been a big deal to him." Brannon doesn't make it a big deal either. "When we go around the room in class and say something about ourselves, I don't usually say anything like, 'I'm Ryan. I'm in a band,'" he says. "I don't want to seem like I'm bragging. We've done it without trying too hard. If I'm really honest about it, I feel like I'm being a dick. We've all been really lucky." After five years, things are still looking up for The Party of Helicopters. And there's no point in calling it quits anytime soon. "I just want to play music my whole life," Brannon says. "We've been together five years now. Once our drummer tried to quit the band, but we set up a tour anyway and told him he had to go. It seems silly to stop now. Things only get better every year. "What else do we have to do besides live in Kent and go to the Loft? We might as well play in a band. I can see us playing in bars when we're 40 with a bunch of men who are in their 40s, and women, too."
Their faces still reveal nothing. They still seem unimpressed, unmoved by the band playing before them. There is no movement among them. Even when the band finishes a song, there is little audience reaction, no eruption of applause, no screams or shouts. And they still look contemplative, almost as if they are in a gallery looking at that same piece of art. The Party of Helicopters. |