It's near 4:30 in the morning and we've dropped our keys twice trying to get them in the door. This song is us, loaded and confused but still floating from kissing a stranger. God, where are they? we wonder, knowing that we probably lost them when the cops busted up the party. And all the other people and/or songs that we'd met tonight: Where are they? Our thoughts of these random connections that meant so much in all of those temporal moments are interrupted by the ringing static and shrill buzzing that remains from all the noise, all the music at once and so loud. We sit down rather than attempt the three-flight stair crawl.

This song is the evening being played at once and out of focus. Need New Body forms one of the largest collectives of sloppy-rock-cum-space-jazz that actually maintains the fun of these two things. Unlike other groups that have attempted the bridge between the two, NNB retains what is important: the messy affair that the creation of either one is. Starting with quick snare drum snaps and a rolling bass, it could easily be the beginning of a cut-tempo “My Sharona” before the runaway screeches of feedback come in followed by aggressive handclaps. Like the rest of the songs this evening, this too has a simple, repeatable chorus, “He / hits it off / hangs out / makes friends / and is never seen again,” a strange and familiar idea, like skipping a heartbeat when you sneeze, but it occurs nightly just the same. Sometimes it's an out of town kid that throws back more than they handle and ends up walking into the lake, only to be seen again on the shores of Gary, Indiana. Other times it's more random: Meet someone, talk all night and then the west-running Chicago 66 bus picks them up and they are only blocks away and gone forever. It just works like that sometimes, we think, as we've made it to the second landing, then the third and finally through our door. And sometimes that is us, we think, for all the others that we've met and enjoyed a Thursday evening with, we too have gotten on the bus or up the el train steps. There is nothing wrong with leaving when every one of us in this city is in continuous stages of abandoning each other. This song makes that seem all right, just like every song ought to.