Nurses

WHAT DO VERT SKATER Jason Ellis, the Metal Mulisha, and the frantic agit-pop sound of the band Nurses have in common? No, not the making of a new VH-1 reality show. It’s their collective place of residence, Temecula, CA. Located along the southwestern border of the Inland Empire, Temecula is sandwiched between Tony Hawk’s Fallbrook and the industry-heavy cities Oceanside and Vista. It boasts enough open land for, say, private vert ramps or BMX courses, but how does an eclectic band like Nurses come to fit into the Temecula equation?
The answer is simple: couch surfing. Nurses left on tour and abandoned their respective homesteads. When they returned to their adopted home in the San Diego area (originally from Idaho Falls, ID), they borrowed floor space from friends in Temecula, and eventually settled in. “We’re really isolated from any sort of scene, which encourages us to do whatever we want,” the band says. “There really aren’t any people interested in the same things as us–wizardry, writing bad checks–so we’ve become pretty reclusive.” The fact that Nurses’ music arises from such an unusual, borderline desert area isn’t for want of; it was more of a “let’s make the best of this unusual situation that we can.” In turn, Nurses ignored Temecula, kept to themselves, and set about crafting music in the only way they knew how.

The foursome ultimately moved into a two-bedroom house, sharing clothes and one car between them. They borrowed gear and spent all their money on recording and touring. The prospect of which would be a bit of a daunting commitment for anyone, and Nurses are the first to own up to it. “The hardest part is being so completely submerged in something,” they say. “Everything we do somehow revolves around our band, so sometimes it’s a bit overwhelming. It feels like getting really close to a huge painting and only being able to see a couple inches right in front of your face; you lose perspective on the bigger picture.”

But the bigger picture creeped into scope. Song writing in the band’s home took shape, starting off with either a guitar or piano, and an idea. “We start off with a really bare but structured song. We do a lot of work from that point to make the song as interesting as possible. Everyone offers their perspective, and we collectively reach whatever potential we think the song has.” Nurses’ potentials are endless, and to that effect the band does whatever’s necessary to round out complete renditions of their recorded works. “It’s important for us to play everything from the record live. We couldn’t imagine presenting incomplete versions.”

After three years and a handful of potential-filled tours, the band recorded 12 songs in San Diego with producer Jason Cupp (the Elected, Valley Arena, Finch), the results of which can be heard on Nurses’ introductory full-length, Hangin’ Nothin’ but Our Hands Down. Musically, Nurses urgent brand of stop-go agit-pop summons a broad based spectrum of “Hey, they were greats.” List-wise, disparate comparisons fall somewhere between a more frantic mix of Q and Not U and Kid-A era Radiohead, while retaining the dancier moments of bands like Enon and El Guapo.

Then there are the vocals. You know those moments in life when you think to yourself, “There’s no way in hell this could ever work.” But you try it anyway, and your perception completely changes. That explains Nurses’ lyrical delivery. At times it’s reminiscent of the off-kilter but authoritative voice of Spoon’s Britt Daniels. Then it’s juxtaposed and smashed against the Freddie Mercury-ized pronouncements of Queen.

Yeah, there’s a hell of a lot of space between those two references, and yeah, there’s no way in hell it should work, but Nurses does it. And Temecula is far off the beaten path for indie bands towing the line between innovation and alienation, but Nurses does it. And yeah, the band didn’t meant to unknowingly practice the art of perception smashing, but Nurses indeed does it.

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