How I Met Kate Nash

This isn't going to be long and drawn out and featuring a goat like How I Met Your Mother. I met Kate Nash after seeing her in concert back in the fall of 2010; it was in October, I think, but I can't remember the exact day. I'd check the ticket stub (which is autographed), but it's on a shelf in my room and I don't want to get off the couch. The show was at the Newport Music Hall and was in support of her second full-length album, My Best Friend Is You. I didn't have anyone to go with me, but I wasn't going to pass up the chance of seeing one of my favourite artists live in concert, so I went by myself; it was no big deal.

The show was incredible. Easily one of the best I had seen. It was a little awkward because I was about the only guy there by myself. But I didn't care. I love Kate Nash. It was electric when she hit the first notes on the piano for “Foundations”. The crowd erupted. For lack of a better word, it was amazing. Occasionally she'd interject with some funny comments or explain some British slang used in her lyrics. Before one song, she told us about an interview where she was told she was a hot mess because she had scraped up knees. Her response: “Hot mess? What am I—Lindsay Lohan?”

I was determined to meet Kate Nash after the show. One of my friends (he lives in London) has a tendency of meeting the band after the show and then always rubs it in my face—the worst was when he saw The Blanks and met Ted from Scrubs. I asked him for some tips and he told me to find the stage door and just wait after the show. I did just that. It worked. Me and a handful of others stood in a single-file line along the tour bus anxiously waiting for the redhead Londoner to walk out the stage door and down the olde stairs to the alley that lie behind the Newport. She came out and quickly went by the line, stopping to inform us all that she would be right back. She retreated to the tour bus, but returned in a matter of moments with a Sharpie in hand.

Kate Nash was superb. She was so friendly and welcoming. She went down the line one person at a time, signing ticket stubs and posters and CD booklets and talking to each person. All I had with my was my ticket stub, having forgot my CD booklet for Made of Bricks at home. Her signature is a bit... incomprehensible, but I know what it says. I had no idea what to say to her when she got to me. I was wearing my England soccer shirt, which she quite liked. The whole thing was like when in a movie or TV show when a guy meets the super pretty girl and can't utter a single word. Finally I said “great show” and got a picture. But, alas! My phone was nearly dead, so the picture didn't save. It was disappointing, but gave me a reason to get back in line. I asked a girl to take my picture with her camera and send it to me and she agreed. Kate was quite alright doing another picture. I was glad my phone died too because I ended up standing in the alley with Kate and a few others just talking and hanging out for the next half hour or so. It was such a surreal experience. She told us some jokes and anecdotes and stories. Her sister, or at least I think it was her sister, kept telling her to hurry up so they could get back to the hotel, but Kate kept telling her she needed to tell us an important story. One of them was about a dream she had, something about a kitten. I got two or three hugs, I think, before I finally left. It was a night I would never forget.

Kate Nash has had a big impact on me. I can (and have) listen to her music nonstop and never get bored. I bought Made of Bricks on a depressed impulse buy my freshman year of college and listened to it more or less nonstop for the next three or four days, much to my roommate's and suitemates' displeasure. Occasionally I took a break to listen to Regina Spektor. Kate Nash's voice was soothing during a depressing time in my life, having lost a best friend over something stupid, something I had never dealt with before.