Distracted

BY ALLIE RUSSELL

On Tuesday night, before their show at Beat Kitchen opening for Somebody’s Child, I met up with Morrissey Blvd – Zan, Henri, and Wilson – for dinner down the street from the venue. What could have been a stiff, formal interview ended up being one of the easiest and warmest conversations I’ve had in a long time.

Morrissey Blvd are three brothers from New Bedford, Massachusetts. When I asked them to take me back to the start, the early days, the first practices, their feelings were unanimous: no, this wasn’t always the dream. 

Their parents made each of them pick up an instrument. At first, they didn’t want to. Practice felt like a chore. But somewhere along the way, obligation turned into obsession. What started as something they had to do slowly became the thing they loved most. 

We talked about their first shows. When I asked if it was just a matter of grinding through small gigs, Zan laughed and said, “It still feels like that, honestly.” There was no ego in it. It was clear that they still feel like they’re building this thing brick by brick. 

Touring has been exciting for them. They’ve been on the road lately, with even more shows coming up this spring. They told me they love traveling, meeting new people, and seeing places they haven’t been. I asked the obvious question: Do you ever get sick of each other?

They admitted that at first, sometimes, yeah. But now? Not really. If anything, they want to spend more time together. Zan went on a tangent, the kind that feels unfiltered and very real, about how much he genuinely loves being in a band with his brothers. He said he wants to be more like them. They all nodded. It was one of those moments where you forget you’re interviewing anyone at all. 

When we talked about their latest release, “Hypocrite,” they explained that a friend brought in the bones of the song, and the rest came together quickly from there. The music video was just as spontaneous, shot by a friend after they found the perfect location while driving around near sunset. They pulled over, rushed to unload the gear from the van, and captured it all before the sun disappeared. They still light up talking about how it turned out. 

The throughline of the entire night was gratitude. For each other. For touring. For the opportunities they’ve had. For the small wins that slowly start to feel bigger. 

After dinner, they headed back to the venue. They invited me to come to the show, and I’m so glad I did. 

The room shifted when they started playing. Conversations quieted. People who had been standing with arms crossed edged closer to the stage. There’s a specific moment when a crowd decides to really pay attention, and Morrissey Blvd earned that moment early. 

Wilson – who is only nineteen – played the entire set with black X’s on the back of his hands. He is one of the most talented young drummers I’ve ever seen. At one point, I found myself remembering what they’d said about resenting practice as kids. Watching them now, so confident on stage, it was impossible not to hear the years it took to get there.

For a band playing their first-ever show in Chicago, there was zero hesitation. It didn’t feel like they were trying to impress anyone, rather they were introducing themselves properly to a new city. 

After their set, they were all at the merch table, greeting everyone who came up with the same warmth they’d shown me at dinner. We talked about how they felt about the night. They were genuinely happy. Proud, but humble. They spoke with so much respect for Somebody’s Child, clearly thankful for the opportunity to be on this run together. There’s no entitlement with them, just appreciation. 

Getting dinner with three strangers could have gone a hundred different ways. Interviewing a band over tacos isn’t exactly controlled conditions. But from the moment I walked into the restaurant, everything felt easy. They asked me about my life. How I ended up in Chicago. Wilson and I bonded over our shared interest in reading. Henri and I went down a rabbit hole about bass players and our favorite bass lines. Nothing about it felt transactional. 

My biggest takeaway from the night is this: Morrissey Blvd is one of the kindest bands I’ve ever met. Mix that kind of character with their performance on stage, and it’s a recipe for longevity. Talent can get you in the door, but humility, gratitude, and pure love for what you’re building is what keeps it open. I have a feeling doors will be open for them for a long time to come.