As is the case with most artists, every new album The Nude Party releases widens their ever-growing fanbase—though unlike most artists, the fanbase for this New York–based country-by-way-of-garage-rock ensemble has expanded to include fellow artists ranging from Jack White to Orville Peck, to say nothing of their frequent needle drops in the Netflix series Outer Banks.
With their third record Rides On dropping last month, the band has managed to tighten their range of influences while maintaining the balance of rural country sounds and an urban rock edge. It may come as no surprise, then, that the outfit led by Patton Magee splits their time between the Catskills, where Rides On was recorded, and nearby New York City, where they still have roots.
Recently we asked Magee to walk us through a perfect day between these two locales, with the songwriter getting an early start out in the Hudson Valley and winding down his day in Brooklyn’s McCarren Parks. Read on for a recap complete with selfies and commentary.
I wake up. It’s 6:12 a.m. I have wasted nearly 7 minutes of day by not rising at the first hint of sunlight. I’ll have to punish myself with a cold shower and no breakfast. Just one of those days.
It’s the last day of a session at the Catskills recording studio. I jog down to the barn where my dear friend and musical collaborator Matthew Horner (the stellar engineer for our Rides On album) is bouncing the tracks from this week’s session. He does not wait for the sun’s permission to rise. An immaculate specimen.
We pile into Matthew’s rental car with all the gear and head down to Brooklyn. Fellow collaborator and musician extraordinaire Ben Tremble shows us some cool old Detroit dance disco and we talk about music, bartending, life.
In Brooklyn around noon. Matt continues south to his home in the Florida Everglades. I meet my roommate and European tour manager at our apartment and he suggests a jog. At first I say no, I don't feel very energetic. But then I stop. And say alright.
We run three miles to our favorite establishment in Ridgewood, the Jones Bar, where I often bartend Thursday nights. It feels good to have the sunlight on our faces and the wind in our stubble. We run to high philosophy audiobooks so we can break a mental sweat, too.
Inside the bar Dr. Jones is sanitizing the spoons and catching up on invoices. He pours us a couple pints of cool tap water and we run home hydrated, stopping along the way for a 34 ounce Vita Coco to really up my electrolytes and prepare for the evening.
The light is beginning to fade in the sky. People are getting off work and heading home to heat their ovens for dinner. I realize I’ve gotten too hydrated, and need some hot chili peppers to wash down these electrolytes. I meet my bandmates Catfish and Alec at Ichiran for some level 10 spicy ramen and Sapporo.
The sun has truly set. Sundown means showdown. I say goodbye to Catfish and Alec and slip into my cleanest Barry Bonds jersey. It’s game time.
I meet some friendly folks at McCarren Park for a competitive game of pickup baseball. I’m determined not to strike out every at-bat this time. The wood bat is heavy on my dainty frame. I think I should do more pushups this week, really fill out the sleeves of this Giants jersey.
