welcome 2


    the UNOFFICIAL fansite!!!   



hey there and welcome to my brand new website devoted to my favorite band HARRIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

first off, let me just establish something.  this is a site FOR THE FANS, and 100% for the fans.  i hope that someday, maybe in the future sometime, that one of the guys from the band will run across this website someday in their travels and say to themselves that wow, the fans really are out there and they really are so awesome!  so let's support this site and keep up supporting our favorite band, HARRIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1



Harris comes from lowell massachussetts.  they met at school there while going to school at UMASS Lowell.  they played in all kinds of places such as the fox hall common, and even were in the school battle of the bands.  they traveled all over the east coast and played in front of hundreds of kids every year.  they are one of the best live bands around, and they can prove it with their live show and performances.  just go see one and you will see what i'm getting at.  before we go any further here are some stats on the boys.



matt scott (guitars)

matt is a founding father of the band, and writes a lot of the songs.  whenever i see them play his is the most energetic of all.  he is the most energetic because he jumps around SOOOO much on stage, its crazy.  he screams too, which really adds to the craziness!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

mike nastri (bass and singer)

mike is a really great song writer, and it shows in his lyrics.  my favorite lyric from a harris song is "stuck within this battle.... I GET NO REST!!!!" at least that's what i think he's saying there because sometimes he screams it... i like it anyway!  it's got a reference to being stuck, and sometimes i feel like i'm stuck in this place and it's hard to get out.  so i like that part... and then when he's like, in the battle, i feel like that too but we all have to be warriors, people, and harris can teach you that.  and then he says he gets no rest!  he never sleeps because he always has to fight that battle, cause he's stuck in it.  see?  harris is so awesome

mike seluk (guitars)

this guy is really great at playing the guitar in the band harris.  i relaly like his style and the way that he plays the songs.  when i saw them live he was really good and funny too. he always gets the girls after the show!  i've seen it happen

andrew sutherland (piano)

he's always dressed nice i guess

rob lynch (drums)

rob is an awesome drummer.  he really plays well especially when its a harris set!!  he used to play with a bunch of other bands, but now he's only in three. 



this is the section where I talk about the songs, and explain what i think each one means.  this is meant to be a part where fans can check out somebody else's interpretation of some of mike nastris lyrics.  sometimes they make hardly ANY sense, and anyones interpretation is bound to be "truly unique"!!!!!!!1  also, I included some of my favorite *.gif files that i think represent each song pretty well. so check it out, keep an open mind, and take a look at what i think those songs are about...


i thinks this song is about a kiss!!!!!!!!!!! HAHA just kidding.  i think its deeper than that.  i think he's actually talking about his times with some girl, and how it went wrong.  and then how he's denied everything just because he's wanting to stay true to his heart. 


this one, i think., is about how i used to sit across study hall from this girl, and she was SO hot, and i always wanted to talk to her, but i didn't.  i kept thinking about it, but i didnt because if i did her boyfriend would kill me.  i swear.


this is one of my faves.  anyways, i think it's about how hes standing outside putting out his clothes on the clothesline after washing them, and there is this girl there, and she keeps taking her clothes off (??????)  who knows.  this one really is steeped in mysterious lyrics.  good ones thogh!


this one is definitely about detention.  and how sometimes you get put in detention for not doing your homework, when in all reality you didn't do your homework because you were too busy beating the final boss in final DOOM. 


who can't connect with a song that hits home the point that almost 35% of the population gets sick every spring?  i know for a fact that its my allergies that make me sick.  i think i'm allergic to spring and flowers and the sun.  i want it to be winter ALL THE TIME!


its about how mike is going to fight a bully, and hes standing there, and one of his friends ties his shoelaces together whithout him knowing it, and now here comes this bully, and then his friends run away, and hes all alone.  crap, he says.  there's the bully.  its time to fight.  it's about that moment right there when he realizes it!!!


a change of seasons for sure.  a change of girlfriends too for mike!  great use of metaphor here as he explains his feelings away with the use of foliage references.







their new RECORD LABEL!!!!  surf on over!


getin contact!!!  write your favorite harris stories and email them to me at my HOTMAILS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  check it out.. my address is


have you ever seen harris?  played in a band at the same show as harris?  are you fan like me and want to express your fandome?  just email me and i'll put it in this section!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  110%


NEW EMAILS IN MY HOTMAIL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

hey guys.  i just got a few new emails regarding the new website devoted to HARRIS!!!  apparently, they have been signed to an independant label, called NAMELESS RECORDS, and i got a email from amanda saying that there is some new stuff coming on the way... a new CD and some merchandise!  i hope they ahve t shirts because that would be AWESOME

i threw up a link to their website up there in the LINKZ section!  check it out its awesome


ok.  now i have to say this.  i also got an email today, and instead of trying to quote it, i'll just put it down for you right here exactly as i got it. check this out:

Mon, 22 Apr 2002 21:31:45 -0400

I think you’re a dork, they’re only a mediocre band at best. 



ok.  now i'm not trying to create an environment where "harris bashers" as i'm going to call them from now on, email me with hate mail concerning me and the band.  the harris shrine is a posetive web experience.  i think that we all, as fans, really need to stick together and not get ourselves down about this, but at the same TIME, i think you bashers really need to check yourselves.  harris is quite honestly one of the BEST BANDS OUT THERE RIGHT NOW.  this site proves it.  just listen to their music and see their show.  and i'm not a dork ok?  i have a genuine love for the band and the music and i express that through my website.  i'm going to continue to post any messages you send me in my hotmails, but only if it isn't negative.  this is the last one.  just be aware!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  if it's mean, and you are a basher, it WON'T GET POSTED!!!!



A M A Z I N G !!!!

i got this email today from a guy anmed andrew, and he had this to say!!! it sounds a little weird to me, and i'm not sure if its true... but if it is it sure gives a little insight into our boys!  in ANY case, its a great read for one of those afternoons where you are bored out of your skull!!!!!!!!!!~  its kinda explicit so hide it from the rents if you catch my drift!!


date: Wed, 24 Apr 2002 00:38:01 -0700 (PDT

author:  Andrew Wetzel

subject: harris to the maximus!!!


And isn't it about time Harris start getting some R-E-S-P-E-C-T?  They must've been around since, what, high school?  Each and everyone of these valiant white knights has at one time or another given me a real boost up, let me tell you.  What's that?  How?  I'll explain... It must've been about two years ago that I first met Michael Dale Nastri.  I was working as a fry cook in a truck stop diner in lower Ontario.  Mike was taking a load across the barren tundra and stopped in for a hot cup of joe.  "Gimme some mud," he said grumpily. "Whatsa matter?  You gotta put some sunshine on that rainy day face."  And don't you know it, I saw a slight grin creep onto his frowning face.  It was his turn to crack wise: "Working hard or hardly working?" Boy, I can tell you I cracked up over that one.  We spent the whole night together, drinking coffee, sharing jokes, and telling each our life stories and dreams.  Well, to get to the point, Mike and I found something that cold Canadian evening - each other. Several hours after we met each other we were married, pregnant, and on the road.  It didn't take much to know that I had found a kindred spirit in my little Mike.  You are my Superman, Mike Nastri... 

My first kissing scene on film was in the early 70's. I was set to co-star in a Peter Katz production, called "Don't Look Now" with Donald Sutherland and Julie Christie.  I signed up only because I thought I was to meet my hero, Andrew Copernicus Sutherland, the great movie/rock star of the 50's and 60's, whose pin ups I used to kiss before bedtime, whose albums I sang along to on my mom's hairbrush, and whose daughter had decided to press charges on me.  I first saw Andrew playing Ivor the dentist, brother to the Gustav Humbert impersonator Clare Quilty, the seducer of the titular Lolita in Kubrick's 62 film version of the controversial Vladimir Nabokov novel, which Vanity Fair called "the only convincing love story of this century".  I died and went to heaven that day.  I came to the set my first morning on that cold California morning and found out otherwise.  I was devastated. The kissing scene I dreamed of was an absolute nightmare.  Donald Sutherland's moustache was very coarse and tickly in a bad way.  I had my face scrunched up the whole time, behind my eyes I dreamt it was Andrew himself, but reality did not lend itself to my fancies.  I never acted again.  I soon got hooked on reds and Captain Morgan.  I was 300 pounds, chained to the wall, and eating dog food and lipstick to survive.  

One day, a letter in the mail came from...ANDREW SUTHERLAND.  I didn't know how he had found me.  My countless letters must've caught his attention, for he delivered in that letter an old rag of his, still damp with semen.  I dabbed it on my mons pubis, my labia majora, and then, my labia minora, hoping to have his baby.  I never did, but I must tell you, that whenever I'm down, I squeeze that crusty handtowel to my tongue, and taste the remnants of his finest swimmers... Some time ago, when my luck was on a downward slope and gaining speed, I met two friends.  One's name was Robert Hangdaddy Lynch.  Dressed in a green leisure suit and reeking of incense, I can see why he avoided me at first.  Atlantic City was full of panhandlers, and the promise of a blowjob was nothing new to any basic citizen.  He coldly shunned me and walked away into that cold New Jersey dawn.  But not before delivering a swift kick in the jaw that promptly emptied my mouth of some teeth.  I don't know, maybe it was guilt, or some sense of understanding, or maybe it was the fact his family was with him, but ever-so-kindly he knelt down and asked why I needed money.  When I convinced him that I wasn't gonna use the money for drugs, he turned to me and introduced me to a special new friend - the Baby Jesus.  The pamphlet said it all: the Baby Jesus was my best friend and he would find a place for me to sleep and he would find me something to eat and he would convince my wife to let me see my own children.  Can you believe that?  Twelve years of marriage and I can't see my own flesh and blood.  Well, I never saw Andrew again, but I must admit, I'm really into this Baby Jesus guy.  I love him and he's funny and we ride bikes and he is nice.  I've only been into him for a couple hours, but I'm really into him... 

I am not ashamed to say it: I never made Little League.  I used to be, especially when I was still in Minor league with my brother and his friends, who I was three years older than.  We didn't travel out of our town, we didn't have cool nicknames like Spike and Sheepdog, and our coaches never got into fistfights. That is until Michael Posturpedic Seluk took over the Montauk Friends Of Erin.  We were a rag-tag bunch, hadn't one a single game the entire year and didn't expect to.  We had one more game to play.  It was against Whitmore Worsley, who also had a no-win record.  Two teams with an 0W-9L history were set to match at Maidstone park, because there was construction behind the Amagansett School.  I got there and was very nervous, because our coach had quit in a fit of rage, saying that "mongoloids like you should never have been born.  If I could somehow travel back in time and manually abort your unborn fetuses, I would".  We had lost his trust, because our catcher had left his helmet home.  Michael was no stranger to us, though, when he took over.  He had attended nearly every one of our games, even though he had no children or link to the coaches, but simply stated he "enjoyed watching children bunt".  Taking the statement at face value, a quick vote among the parents made him the coach for the day.  And the game started.  For five straight innings, it was an absolute hit-fest.  No one had scored yet on that cold New York day, but we were knocking 'em around left and right.  It was the bottom of the sixth (only six innings in little kid baseball) and there were two outs when our fattest asset, Jimmy Lucas, stepped to the plate.  We were down one, and I was sure Jimmy was gonna strike out, and I was grateful, because I was next and couldn't stand the thought of losing the game.  Sure enough, Jimmy took a square shot to the face.  I was up, with the winning run at the plate.  I was nervous as anything, and wanted to run home crying, but as I was on my way to the plate, Coach S. briskly walked over, squeezed my 10 year old tush and said "bunt, I would love to watch you bunt".  You know it cost us the game but it was easier than swinging and actually trying.  We had no ice cream that day, felt not the fruits of victory, but in it's stead, the end of our fathers' belts... 

Not many know, but Matthew Leonard Scott was born in 1811 in Barcelona, the azygous twin of a Spanish hidalgo, Tomas Juan Carlos Scott, who eschewed his noble stature and became the guitarist for Status Quo. In 1821 he quit the band and moved the family to Amagansett, New York to be near the paper mills because "he liked the smell".  At the tender age of fourteen, Mattie recognized in himself the ability to write horse poetry that was every bit as good as Simone Turnbull's, the girl who sat in front of him in homeroom.  Soon he was also penning free verse, poems that dealt with subjects such as how the rain made him sad, to terse lyric compositions on how grown-ups just didn't understand him.  His quasi sonnet-form composition that compares a dying tree to his own soul remains one of the most moving works to come out of Ms. Collin's seventh period freshman English class. Well, our stars were crossed at Oddysey Of The Mind, a week long quiztacular in which elementary students from around the country come to Boulder to rack their brains and use their education.  We were both in sixth grade, yet we had never met, because I was still in remedical classes and Matt's parents were fans of home-schooling.  How my school decided to take Matt (a hometaught student) over one of its own students must've been decided in heaven, as neither of us have figured it out yet.  Regardless, it was the night before our last day of OTM.  Our team (whose nickname, the Rocktaculars, was Matt's ingenuity) wasn't too far behind the leaders, the Tiger Claws.  I had developed an affinity for chlorine, because its smell was similar to semen, and I couldn't help but squeeze in one last dive into the Holiday Inn pool in Boulder. Well, a belly flop alerted OTM officals, who came running out.  Matt got there first though.  He saw me, and knowing my being in a wheelchair would earn us extra points for the last day of quizzes, he decided to take the blame.  He took a cherry Italian Ice and rubbed it on his hairless belly.  The red dyes left his stomach looking as red as mine.  He dragged me into the arcade, saying that I would have to lead the Rocktaculars on our last day, and that he would take the blame, as getting caught after hours is an automatic disqualifcation from the team.  I tried to argue, but he put a soft finger to my lips, shoooshing me, and said: "I won't let you stop me Andy Pandy Wetzel Pretzel Heddiger-face.  Your wheels are gonna get us out of this sticky jam.  We gotta beat those Tiger Claws and you're just the son of a bitch to do it".  I gasped, not used to such vulgar language.  But I got the idea.  "Andy?".  "Yes," I answered.  "I'm taking the blame and I'm not gonna let you stop me. Tomorrow, when they hoist you and your wheelchair on their shoulders and parade you around campus, will you do one thing?"  "What Matso Leo?"  "Will you promise me that you'll remember me and that one day we'll sleep in the same bed together and try to makeout with the same girl, ideally, somebody's older sister".  I smiled broadly in that cold Colorado dusk - I had been waiting for someone to ask mee this my entire life.  I dug into my pocket, looking for something to give my new best friend.  And I found it, taking out a big thumbs up, and pointing it right at him with a nod: "You got it dude!"  After the great Ortmann orgy-fiasco of 98, me and Matthew S. were forced to be seperated for legal reasons.  We now communicate through a thick wall of lawyers.  I retain more than seven thousand pounds of attorney, Matt more than twelve thousand.  And to think of the times we once had... 

Tales of woe, tales of love, but always tales of inspiration.  These boys have seen it all, and they are always quick to hand out bits of advice.  I know they'd like me to, so I will share some of these inspirational tidbits now... 

1)Do one thing every day that scares the person you're stalking. 

2)Don't be reckless with other people's hearts.  In fact, put down those lungs, too.  The organ bank is not a playground. 

3)Do not re-use condoms.  Unless they're latex. 

4)Get plenty of calcium.  Don't eat it, just hoard it. 

5)Enjoy your body.  Use it every way you can.  Then, bury it in yard with the others.  Its creepy how you keep a body around the house. 

6)Do not try to read carpet-sample books.  Its just not that kind of book. 

7)Understand that friends come and go, but you have to stay here.  That's why they call it house arrest. 

I saw Matt Scott the other afternoon.  It was a slate-gray day, the dirt was still a little frozen, and a bitter Boston wind blew out of the north. Luckily, I was in New York, so it didn't affect me. Matt looked very much like the energetic forty-three-year old landscaper I knew so many years before (I've since learned he's only twenty, soon to be twenty one, and is playing in a rock and roll band, by the name of Harris).  It didn't take long and I was back to '89 and those hot teenage nights, me a sapling, still green in youth. I didn't actually see Matt in person.  He was sending me a video cease and desist letter, as I had been using his name to promote my line of tooth whiteners and cheap Korean spark-guns.  But in his tone, I could feel him reaching out.  So I sued him. As for Mike Nastri, Rob Lynch, Andrew Sutherland, and Mike Seluk, I sue them occasionally too.  But they are gentle lawsuits.  And through their countersuits I feel their love... 

Andrew D.E. Wetzel 

Montauk, NY 

May 24, 2002




hey there guys some more email for you that just came into my hotmails.  !!!

(also i learned how to make faces ONLINE!  check this out here's a couple...)

:)  <----- that's a smiley face if you didn't know that one

:G) smiley with a pig nose!

$$$$:D    MARGE SIMPSON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  HAHAHAHAHA

>: - |>  am ean devil!

ok anyways!!!  back to the email got this one today KEEP SENDING THEM IN TO ME! AT MY HOTMAIL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yeah, knowing some of the harris boys they are complete nice guys. And as far as the comment was that they a mediocre well, it's called class. Obviously this person doesn't know when to shut up. Okay, yeah, well, that was my Jerry Springer moment. I promise I won't throw a chair. As a former girly of a certain member, I hope that I don't get a song written about me because then when im senile and old  and breasts hang around my waist (ewww! bad mental image here) no one will believe me.  Okay well thats it. Rock on kiddies!


:oops one more i forgot..... II (     that's a sad robocop!!!  YEAH! thanks for the email!



copyright 2002