Photo taken from No Doctors website: www.nodoctors.com

What began as a few guys playing an accordion loudly at 4 a.m. and wreaking general havoc in the Bobb-McCulloch courtyard in the Winter of 2000, has blossomed into the group, known as Northwestern’s unrequited King’s of Rock n’ Roll – No Doctors.

They say they are the band that “plays the nasty rock n’ roll the way you desperately want it, and they will teach you how to talk to your sister.” Whatever the fuck that all means. They certainly walk around like rock stars, so most people don’t believe otherwise. Others have their doubts entirely. In any case, their road to “stardom” has been not so much interesting as it is just plain funny.

The scale of the group is unknown, since anyone who has ever participated in a recording session is considered part of the band. “Everyone is a No Doctor,” saxophonist Nate Sobaski says.

The central cast, however, is easily identifiable: NU students Nate Sobaski, Sean Pawley, and Brian Roosjen, along with Minnesotan friends Patrick Fogerty, Andrew Morrow, and David Wendell. If these names do not sound familiar, then perhaps their pseudonyms ring a bell: CansaFis, Chauncey Chompers, Mr. Muthfuckin’ Brian and Giggles T., Elvis, and W. Cloppes, respectively. (Incidentally, many have asked where in the hell these names came from, and I don’t think anybody knows the answer, least of all the members of the group.)

In effect, the group is a really loud noise turned rock n’ roll band. Sean and Andy are on lead guitar, Brian on drums, Pat works the bass, and Nate “plays” the saxophone (actually it’s my saxophone “on loan,” which I’m figuring will never come back the same). David rounds the group off with his own “rhythm” section, which generally consists of banging on large pieces of sheet metal with 4-foot drumsticks.

In accordance with their newfound rock n’ roll stardom, three members sport the requisite long hair. Sean headlines the group with a Steve Buscemi meets Mick Jaggar look, scaring small children for as long as I have known him. Yet for some strange reason, the ladies dig on him.

My fondest such memory involves Sean successfully charming a young collegiate co-ed into our house. While Sean and his new lady friend were “busy,” our house was robbed (as it often is) with the young lady’s purse being the only article stolen. Later that week, the rumor floating around campus was that this unsuspecting lassie was under the impression that Sean and I were a “team,” whereby he would woo the women, and I would steal their purses. Come to think of it, great plan.

Nate used to look like a big white basketball player, but now more resembles a 70’s pimp, with a sickly skinny twist. He’s rarely seen without his indoor shades and signature arm warmers (essential in the world of a rock star).

Andy and Pat, meantime, simply look like your average Chicago early 20-somethings—jeans and t-shirts kind of folk. Just by looking, you’d never guess that they’re part of one of Chicago’s “hottest” rock bands. As for Brian and David, they keep the group grounded in its roots of long hair and stumbling dazes.

Most Northwestern students were first introduced to No Doctors at Mayfest’s Battle of the Bands last Spring. All in all, it was a good show, but this battle wound up being a one-time only event. “We don’t do battles anymore,” says Nate. “The last time we did a battle we got chased down dark alleys by a bunch of faux hippies.”

Just like those violent tree-huggers, not everybody at that particular performance was feeling No Doctors’ rhythm. An unidentified contestant remarked that he did not care who won, so long as it was not that band. Apparently some would much rather see a Sweet Sweet Candy revival than be stuffed into Nevin’s Live listening to Chauncey on the mic. Those poor, misguided souls.

Despite their loss in the “competition,” the crowd assembled had overwhelmingly handed them the crown du jour by an apparent 3-to-1 margin. By the end of the show, the name No Doctors had become the buzzword on campus.

In the interim, Chicagoland’s hottest rock sensation has gone on three tours and recently released their debut, self-titled (yet titleless) album, to much critical acclaim.

In all their fame and glory, I will always be able to say that I was there…from the beginning. Yes, I was there … the freshman year roommate of one Nathan Daniel Sobaski (still one of my best friends). When Nate became “CansaFis” (a name to this day I refuse to refer to him as) and Sean became “Chauncey” (likewise) I was sworn to secrecy, never to let word out about their true identities.

That being said, I first met Nate in the Fall of 1999—move-in day at Bobb Hall. He was everything I imagined the prototypical Northwestern student to be—tall guy with short blond hair, lots of gel, and devotion to two things: working out and drinking beer. “Nate was such a jock back in high school,” says Anna Staloch, friend of the band since high school. “And, at first, I thought he was such a weirdo.”

He might have been weird, but Nate was an insane caps player. He would spend hours at a time playing the game at the neighboring fraternity house. Although he would later disavow any knowledge of his frat-partying, caps playing “past life,” the memories simply yield too much to forget.

“In high school I always thought they were jerks,” Staloch recalls. “When I would go home, other people would make fun of me because I told them I hung out with these guys.”

My first introduction into the life of No Doctors began when my roommate hosted weekend guests: Andy and Sean. It all started at a fraternity party with a bottle cap and its capabilities as an ashtray. Before we knew it, Nate, Andy and Sean were engaged in a heated discussion with other partygoers about the amount of respect such a bottle cap commanded. They were later tossed off the premises.

Two days later I, along with three others, bore witness to the first performance of No Doctors: McCulloch Lounge April, 2000. People walked by, some disgusted, some intrigued by the music coming from within. The screeching blend of feedback and distortion, coupled with the provocative singing and movement provided for a very interesting show. Residents were angered by the loud music, yet for weeks to come they could not stop talking about “that band.”

After Sean transferred to Northwestern in the Fall of 2000, the band finally had the means and the opportunity to refine their art. Their first performance was at an abandoned bowling alley turned bar/ concert venue. “It’s Phish meets The Police with a touch of Billy Idol,” says Brian Malkerson, friend of the band.

Certainly this awkward blend of sound left us all with something indescribable. But we wanted to listen, not just because they were our friends, but because we were deeply intrigued.

The intrigue only lasts so long though. And I would be lying if I said that my roommates and I didn’t coordinate our schedules so as to be out of the house during rehearsal.

Seeing the band live may not revolutionize your conception of the arts, but you are definitely guaranteed a good time. Maybe it’s just because I am a biased friend (who wants to save his ass), but it really doesn’t matter if you like the band or hate them, the point is that you experience the band.

T o see for yourself go to www.nodoctors.com.

Srikanth Reddy is a Chemical Engineering major with no business writing for a magazine. Tell him how much you love his article, s-reddy5@northwestern.edu.

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