Why Touring is a Waste of Time
... and other post-tour thoughts
There’s a quote I read once about being in the army that goes something like, “soldiering is 99% boredom and 1% pure terror.” As a touring musician, I could amend that to: “touring is 99% driving and 1% playing shows.” It may be somewhat of a stretch, but for anyone else that’s gone on tour, no matter how long it is, I think it rings true.
I just finished a sixteen day run of shows, and let me tell you, I’m still exhausted. My back still hurts from sitting in a van eight hours a day, and the tips of my fingers feel like burnt toast. We played Amagansett, Nashville, Charlotte, Carrboro, Decatur, DC, Philadelphia, Cambridge, NYC, and Westport, and drove the whole way in a janky 2005 Ford E-350 with 217k miles on it. We had to get all four tires replaced on the second day of tour after we noticed dry rot and full balding. I could feel every bump and pothole directly on my tailbone. My ass hurts.
At this stage in my career, touring is a waste of time. Touring is a waste of money! But like all truly good things in this world, sometimes the act of wasting is precisely what makes it worth it. That’s probably an oxymoron. Then call me a moron! But first, let me explain.
I’ve been on tours before – I’ve opened for incredible artists all around the country, and I’ve played headline shows to quite literally 2 people (don’t ask me about Philly on July 13th, 2022). It can be demoralizing, dehumanizing, and disillusioning, but it can also be triumphant, euphoric, and beautiful, in ways both larger and smaller than I could have ever imagined. This is the contract we musicians sign with ourselves – to crawl through the shit in order to end up victorious on a beach in Mexico (that is a poor reference to The Shawshank Redemption). The highest of the highs in exchange for the lowest of the lows. Or that’s one way to look at it.
Another way is to embrace the ten hour van rides, to buy groceries and cook dinner on off days, to laugh at the inconveniences that are so inevitable that it would be suspicious if there weren’t any. To hang out with the band, with your comrades in arms. On our first long driving day, I wanted to listen to The Lord of the Rings audiobook (specifically The Two Towers, which is where I was at). But alas! Jacob and Charlie had never read the books or seen the movies. So Andre and I, resident LOTR experts, spent four hours explaining in great detail the plot of The Fellowship of the Ring, with Silmarillion-esque contextual background of Tolkein’s world. The rest of the tour was filled with audiobook listening, movie watching (extended editions of course), and lively discussions about Middle Earth.
A few more lovely moments that will forever be burned into my memory: Joe cheffing up a delicious dinner in Spring Run, PA, fishing in the Catawba River, playing Super Mario Tennis on Andre’s Switch in the green rooms, eating fresh crab for lunch in Baltimore (ill-advised before playing a show, but so yummy). These are all “wastes of time.” But they will stick with me just as much as the best shows we played on tour.
Okay, onto the shows themselves. And I’m gonna be honest with you, loyal readers, otherwise what’s the point of this whole damn thing? We didn’t sell out every show, but we did sell out Cambridge, and DC sure felt like we did. The other shows were well attended, but there were still a good number of tickets available. I, like you, am on social media constantly (although I’ve been trying to look at it less, blah blah). I see my other artist friends sell out big venues; I see them post things about ticket presales and how those sell out before the shows are even on sale; I see people lining up by the hundreds on the street. Do I get jealous? Of course I do. But my jealousy these days is a mosquito whining in my ear, more of an inconvenience than a crushing weight on my chest. I do believe that in this industry (or at least the corner where my community is) a rising tide will lift all boats.
I’m realizing that the paragraph above may seem ungrateful, but my point is exactly the opposite. This was the first tour I’ve ever done where it felt like people were there to really see me play. They came for the songs. They came for the music. And at the end of the day, the ticket counts didn’t matter to me as long as the people who were actually at the shows felt like their cups were runnething over. I had to get a whole bucket because my cup was runnething over so much. And that makes it all worth it.
Before I close, I have to give a quick shoutout to Washington DC. DC, man! That show was really nuts. I’ve never seen a crowd know every single word to every single song, even “Leroy’s Song,” which had come out less than a week before. You guys made me break my rule about encores. To all you other cities, get on DC’s level.
Alright, enough of my blustering. To recap: tour is a waste, but also not. It’s the best thing I’ve ever been a part of. And thank you all for being a part of it with me.
All my love,
teaky