People always ask me what being on the road is like. The whole concept has been glamorized to death. I’m sure it is pretty fabulous if you are Lady Gaga or The Rolling Stones. For the rest of us though, I think it’s pretty different than you’d expect.
Imagine yourself on a road trip with no destination. That’s kind of what it feels like. Mind you, we are always headed somewhere, but we spend way more hours in the car than we spend on stage or in any one place.
I’ve been spoiled these last few years because two of my band-mates, Peter Anderson and Steve Price, do most all of the driving. I hate driving, so this makes me very happy. It also leaves the rest of us with a lot of hours to fill. I arrive with a stocked backpack: iPhone, iPad, iPod, MacBook. (Apparently I’m keeping the apple store in business.) If we’re lucky, my husband lets us hijack his phone, which is a WiFi hotspot. At least that way I can get some work done. Responding to emails consumes at least 30% of my workload as a musician: advancing shows, booking shows, promoting shows, coordinating rehearsal and studio sessions, etc. The more of this I can get done while we sit in the car, the more I get to have a life when I get home. Still, I can only answer emails and play words with friends for so long before I’m bored out of my mind.
Luckily we get to stop every couple of hours. Who would have thought a trip to the gas station would be so exciting? Now, I’m a vegetarian and also a food snob. Something I’m both proud of and annoyed with myself about. This makes finding something I’m willing to eat quite challenging when we’re in the middle of nowhere. Peter and Steve are veggies at well, so at least I’m not alone in my hunt for grub. Kevin Bowe (my guitar player and fellow food snob) and I often find ourselves wandering the aisles at the local Super America being disgusted with our options, examining the over-processed food and repeating the word, “No, no, no…” to no end. The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over expecting a different outcome. Yet there we stand, as if someday a fruit plate might magically appear on the shelf between the Oreos and Corn Nuts. Lately I’ve just defaulted to bringing a cooler full of healthy snacks. We barely have room in the Suburban for one more thing, but you gotta do what you gotta do.
When we get to the venue, I’m thrilled to have a couple hours on my feet. We’re finally going to do our thing. If we’re lucky someone will show up to hear us. The audience can make or break a road show. Any show for that matter. But if you’ve spent 7 hours in the car driving to Rock Island, IL only to have a huge bar with 8 people in it, knowing you’re just going to have to get back in that car and drive 7 hours home right afterwards, it sucks. And I know, because it just happened. You can spend $300-$400 on gas to make $50 on the door. Luckily, those gigs are few and far between for us these days. Most of the time, the audience makes it all worthwhile. To have a group of people show up to hear you play your music in a town that isn’t yours is the best feeling. It’s a lot of sitting around for a few minutes of glory, but I’m happy to make the trip. I’m particularly thrilled if I can make it through the evening without someone requesting “Gangnam Style.” Oh yes, that’s happened. More than once.
I’ve had the same band for over 5 years. When you’ve been together that long, making music is the easy part. I don’t have to think about it anymore. If I make a mistake, they’re with me. If I want to vamp the outro, they’re with me. Not worrying about them allows me to just enjoy my time on stage. It took me many years to get over my nervous energy and just embrace the performance. But I know I still wouldn’t be over it if I wasn’t up there with such competent players. Kevin is always telling me that I don’t know how good I have it since I never really played with anyone else. It’s true, I’m spoiled. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Once the show wraps, we’re either headed back on the road for a late drive home, or we’re headed to a hotel. You never know what that is going to bring. Most of the time I book our hotels, so I can at least be as picky as our budget allows. Frankly that isn’t very picky, but still. Sometimes though, the venue books the hotel for us. This can be scary. Just recently we were booked in a not-so-great part of town. I had a hotel room on the main floor, with a door directly to the parking lot, and a padlock that wouldn’t work. Sadly, there were no more rooms. So, I slept with a chair wedged under my door handle and one eye open. That was not my favorite night on the road.
In the end, we never know what we’re in for when we pack ourselves into our trusty Suburban. But it’s sure to be good for a blog or two.
No shows booked at the moment.