Benny Everhart was never meant to stand alone.
At thirty-five, she's a veteran of the industry with a voice that once helped define a generation. Raised on the coast of Maine alongside four childhood friends, Benny came up fast with NorthSide Bound...
NorthSide Bound's Backstage Room 2024 MTV Video Music Awards UBS Arena Elmont, New York
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Benny's POV
After the performance, we took our seats in the crowd for the rest of the show.
Every commercial break, someone came over to congratulate us or ask for a picture. Half of them were artists we used to blast in the van.
Fans reached across the rows with their phones. Fallon climbed over seats for selfies, Damon threw the same rock sign in every photo, and Amelia turned quick hellos into full conversations.
By the time we got backstage, I'd lost count.
Our dressing room was wrecked. Empty Red Bull cans, open chip bags, cards, and PlayStation controllers covered the tables. Jackets hung crooked from the rack, and someone's boots sat beneath the couch.
Fallon dropped onto the couch, laughing until she wheezed. Damon paced the room while Bowie leaned against the wall, grinning.
Amelia wiped beneath her eyes. "Holy shit," she said. "We did that."
"We fuckin' did."
We'd played tiny clubs, county fairs, parking lots, sold-out arenas, world tours, and some of the biggest music festivals.
But tonight, after five years apart, we'd opened the VMAs together.
I grabbed a bottle of champagne from beside the catering table and climbed onto the coffee table.
"NORTHSIDE BOUND IS BACK, BABY!"
The cork shot across the room.
Champagne went everywhere. Damon opened his arms and took it straight to the chest while Amelia screamed and ducked behind Bowie.
"Why am I your shield?" Bowie asked, covering his face.
The door opened, and Jenny stopped short.
"Holy shitballs."
We lost it.
She pointed at me. "Benny, don't."
"DO IT!" Fallon yelled.
Damon and Bowie joined in.
"DO IT! DO IT!"
I sprayed Jenny.
She shut her eyes as champagne ran down her clothes.
