Post by Deleted on Nov 26, 2013 20:32:15 GMT
sara josephine holland ,
full name: Sara Josephine Montgomery
nicknames: S, Sar, Holland
age: Twenty-two
birthday: July 5th.
education: High school drop-out
occupation: Musician.
sexual orientation: Heterosexual.
marital status: Single.
current city: NYC, NY.
hometown: Columbus, Ohio | Joshua Tree, California
parents: Ben & Jaclyn Montgomery,
sibilings: Theresa Montgomery.
extended family: Tate Cairns - nephew
Looking in the venue, it's evident it's the first brisk of winter. The crowd in Sycamore is stuffed full with New York yankees clad in coats and boots, and when the door to the entrance opens, a chill is let through. It's well below freezing, and while many have chosen to spend the night by the comfort of their fireplace, this army of people has braved the cold.
When Sara Holland saunters onto the stage, she looks as though she's dressed for a funeral. The Desert Rock native is carrying a whiskey tumbler in one hand, and has a mahogany Les Paul strapped across her slim frame, the rest of her four-piece follows behind her. "You're fucking ready, right?" she mutters as she lazily handles the microphone, electricity flows through the active bar. The crowd hovers in anticipation, anticipation for a band they've so far only witnessed through Youtube videos and one defiant album. On stage there's communication between the band, eyes are met and words are silently exchanged. Pearson McDowell hammers on his drums, there's a drop, and Holland joins in, yowling with kerosene melodic vocals. In those short moments, it's easy to see why the band drew a slew of people for their first gig in NYC. They move in a menacing, jerky fashion, staring into the sea of people like they're on fire. Music is stealthy, influenced by post-punk's aerodynamics, hardcore's abrasion, and the overdriven plundering of metal. There's disconnect, where the band is alone and within each other, playing for themselves.. then Sara tears away, singing into the crowd as if she's in love with each individual, an apocalyptic look on her stark features. When their hour set has come to a close, Sara pressed the mic to her lips, her voice raspy as it speaks, "that's Danny, Isaac, and Pearce," her whiskey sloshing in its glass as she gestures to each of her band members, grinning from ear to ear as though she's having an inside joke with the men on stage, "I'm Sara, and we're Static. Thanks so fucking much for a great night."
When Sara and I next meet, it's at the after party, which is at her new apartment in Brooklyn. Her space is furnished with a 24 pack of Heineken, and a sofa set, barely anything but she shows no sign of discontent. A cigarette is pulled from a pack, and she hangs it between her lips as she lights up with a personalized zippo. "We just wrapped up touring with Queens of the Stone Age, so we're all a bit fucking exhausted," her voice is sweeter than I expected, dripping candy in comparison to how she was on stage. Later, she explains to be that touring with QOTSA was a dream come true, she's beaming as she tells me she's a long time fan of front man Josh Homme. "On the road since June.. we're taking a vacation," band members nod in agreement, Isaac Featherstone is already asleep on the shoulder of the bassist, Danny McDaid.
The band's story is a simple one, Sara gaining admiration in two-piece band 'Temper' which split due to personal reasons. Static had lost their lead singer in a similar fate, and upon her moving to California, Holland had come highly recommended. In March 2013, they released "Felina", an album that gained grand reviews and recognition. (Under The Radar: 'This is anarchic, itching punk at its most primal, most belligerent.' Paste Magazine: Static's smart reorganization and shuffling of punk, post-punk, krautrock, and noise music into something brutal, jarringly confrontational, and completely singular is a breath of fresh air and an unignorable statement of power and resistance.') In the past year Static's grown a strong fan base, and caught the attention of the world of rock, offering something new and engaging. They are an antidote to the polite, earnest guitar-rock that has you swaying with a flamed lighter perched in your hand.
When asked whether or not she's treated, or viewed differently because she's a female musician, Holland rolls her eyes. "That itself, answers the question.. Never gets old. People do take us, no, me less seriously because I'm a front-woman. I had one terrible sound guy approach me after a gig and say, 'sorry I didn't realize you were going to be good, I didn't realize you could play like that.'" Sara speaks mockingly. "So yea, they're a bit shocked.. but that's fucking great, that's reason to prove the fuckers wrong." I watch as she reconsiders what she just said, dragging her cigarette from her lips, “teach them a bit of a lesson.."
Watching her, it's easy to see why Sara Holland has her audience weak in the knees. Fierce cheekbones, thick arched brows, heart shaped lips, and a hair that tickles her collar. She's even prettier as she moves, her jerky on-stage movements barbaric compared to how she floats in and out of the room. When I ask her about rumors about her romantic life, she declines and shifts uncomfortably in her seat, claiming age has no time for dating let alone rumors. Then she's up again, slipping onto the couch, beside the sleeping guitarist and begins mischievously playing with his hair. When I bring up 'Temper', she simply smiles and me, shakes her head and says, “you're getting a bit frisky with your questions.” I'm captivated as I watch her fold his long hair into a braid. I ask about New York, and her teeth sink into those heart shaped lips, thinking. “I left New York for California last year, I was just in the wrong place.. in limbo, you know? But I would have been in limbo in New York or not. I was feeling for a reason, but not trying for one, I just expected it.. I needed to get my shit together." I can tell she's getting tired of talking, though it seems we've done very little of it. "Really fucking glad we could finish the first leg of our tour in a place that feels like home.”
At three in the morning Isaac wakes up, his hair similar to that of James Franco's in Springbreakers, and Sara's keeling over on the couch, laughing at her own joke. When the giggling has subsided I ask for what they think their music is, Pearson starts, “it's music to break shit to!” Holland grins, “and fuck on the floor to.” Isaac is groaning, rubbing his eyes, “music to break shit to, and fuck on the floor to.”
pearcemcdouchebag SARA, where they fuck are you?
sarholl I'm in the ladiesroom, and five girls are plotting murder outside the stall. Also, very inebriated, can you save me? Also, it took me twenty minutes to type this message.
pearcemcdouchebag If it took you twenty minutes, lad's likely already dead. Meet me @ patio.
sarholl I'm dying, and this toilet is my tombstone.
pearcemcdouchebag Be there in five.
1. There is no wifi, there is no alone time, there is no personal space, there is no secrets, there is no break from your band. Ask me anything about Danny's relationship with his mother, he's thirty-two and she calls him every day, they have the same mundane half-hour conversations. Isaac likes honey garlic on his wings, dill pickle doritos, and frozen reeses peanut butter cups. Pearce once swallowed his wedding ring, in protest to his failing marriage, he asks me to take his phone every time we go out drinking because he'll undoubtedly text her. Similarly, they know everything about me; they know who I lost my virginity to, and how I lock the windows before going to sleep. In 6-8 hour car drives and plane rides, small talk gets old and our hearts grow heavy. There's very few things we agree on, but we wise up and listen to each others' opinions anyway. We become family very quickly.
2. McDonalds is universal. The safest thing to get is a milkshake and fries, which they don't serve past ten. Apple slices are also relatively safe.
3. Build a self-esteem, become one with your odor. I recently went six days in Australia without a shower. Greasy hair, old clothes, powdered with deodorant and perfume.. I had to rely on my personality to get me through the week. And being so disgustingly sweaty, I was dramatic as well as bitchy. My personality wasn't award winning.
4. Back to #1, where everyone knows everything, you're forced to confront your fears, there is no running away from shit. Like, Reading Festival, which I was gung-ho for. I love festivals, the vibe is so fucking unbeatable. Pubs and small venues are intimate and wonderful, stadiums are overwhelming but great. Festivals are different, it's like you're playing to virgin ears, people who have never heard your sound, it's a chance to gain new fans. The guys were excited about the offer, and I was too, System of a Down and Deftones were there.. bands that are in my top fifteen bands were there. I was sold, I didn't even have to read the rest of the lineup. The guys did, they knew, dicks.. never trust your family, your family are douchebags. Douchebags who threw me to the sharks, and tended to my silent treatment for the next two says. But despite having to share a stage with Theseus' Ship (low point), and been dangled/tortured/I haven't settled on a feeling (thus, low point), it was worth the shove. We played a mean set (high point), Stephen Carpenter said I held my guitar like Hendrix (high point), and I tried a deep fried mars bar (low point).
5. Being the only female does not give you any sort of luxuries. Isaac is Princes of the Tour Bus and always will be.
6. It makes you appreciate home.CIARA, NYC, ANDREEA
