Monday, April 29, 2013

lessons from the road 101


As many of you likely know, one of my many jobs is as a college professor.  I’ve been teaching at the college level now for about twelve to thirteen years, and for the past eight years have even held a full-time, tenured position at a community college in California.  Teaching is a big part of my life, but not ALL of it...

I just spent a month on the road with one of my metal bands, Helsott.  We were on the Paganfest America tour with Ensiferum, Tyr, Heidevolk (my latest obsession! - don’t get me started!!!) and TrollfesT.  Crazy, as I’ve never made the sacrifice to go on tour before...this was a first for me.  For those of you who aren’t familiar, there are ways to make money making music, and then there are ways to make music that feed your soul.  On rare occasions, these two phenomena coincide, but the vast majority of times, they don’t.  I’d been slanted more toward the “I’m a gig whore” variety of musician for many years and if it was about the “experience,” I wasn’t even remotely willing to entertain the thought.

However, a few years ago, I had an epiphany.  Playing church gigs, singing early music and teaching college - while financially more lucrative than most musical endeavors - just weren’t cutting it for me anymore.  Boring, with a capital “B!”  My life had clearly swung to a side of the pendulum with which my somewhat edgy, snarky self did not resonate.  I remember a specific moment when I was in my late 20s, getting ready to go to work to teach yet another night class.  I opened up my closet to a range of very “appropriate” teacher-ly attire from places like the Gap and Banana Republic.  And suddenly, I was horrified.  I cried to myself, “THIS IS NOT MY LIFE.”

Then I joined a metal band, and the rest is history.

Going on the road was a humbling experience for me, as well as exhilarating.  Here I am, a 35-year old woman and self-proclaimed “crazy cat lady,” who’s going on a major tour...her FIRST ever, despite being a successful working musician in her adult life.  It was sort of the ultimate validation for me, that I’m actually only crazy in a GOOD way, rather than in a stupid, delusional, “you’re just having a midlife crisis” kind of way.  By the way, I’m really sick of people telling me this is the case...I can’t figure out why some people are so threatened by others who actually have the BALLS to live their dreams.  I’ve sacrificed more than any of you could possibly know to do what I’m doing now, including family relationships, and it’s been heart-breaking to see how some folks just aren’t willing to let me be MYSELF.  

What was most difficult for me was the fact that I AM INDEED 35.  I was older than virtually everyone else on the tour, and being surrounded by a bunch of guys in their 20s was a bit “interesting.”  Plus, I’m sober, so I don’t drink or smoke or party in *that* sense - ANYMORE.  Believe me, I used to rock it with the best of ‘em, but I’m fucking old now and I’m just not a fan of endless hangovers anymore.  I got over that about 13 years ago.  If other folks want to do this, cool.  I just get tired of people giving me shit when I don’t.  It’s my choice and my prerogative.  I don’t judge others for their own choices, so why judge me for mine?  That got old.

I came home from nearly a month on the road about a week ago, and have mainly been languishing on the couch in my own snot due to some horrific “tour plague” that’s seemingly killed me more than the other folks in any of the other bands.  Perhaps that’s because I’m old...who knows, but in any case it’s sucked.  It has, however, given me plenty of time between reruns of Ancient Aliens to ponder what lessons I’ve learned from the road.  And these are what I would like to share with you, readers, in case you ever have the opportunity to go on a major metal tour for the first time when you’re an old lady (or man).  I just have to teach...it’s in my blood!

1. Worn out discount 10 dollar “I can’t believe it’s not leather pants” from H&M are not appropriate stage attire.  They WILL rip in the most embarrassing place (right at the ass cheek) and at the most inopportune moment (when you have run out of clean underwear and have had to resort to white, floral granny panties).  Suddenly a large crowd in Seattle will know of your predicament.

2. Part of “livin’ the dream” is being able to tolerate living in a van and sleeping in shifts while sitting up.  Don’t bitch.  Everyone else will tell you how much worse they feel than you.  And because everyone is sleep-deprived (and likely hung over), feeling like shit is relative and also infinitely tragic.  One can’t compare feeling-like-shit-ness.  It’s incomparable to personal I-feel-like-shit-ness-because-I’ve-been-sleeping-sitting-up-for-seven-days-straight-now-and-my-back-fucking-hurts.

3. Pack a good supply of ear plugs, hand sanitizer, foot spray, Febreze and baby wipes.  Ear plugs for the resonant snoring inside of said van with six men (this was somewhat of a symphony each night and I wish I had only thought to sample this brilliant cacophony of polyrhythm).  Hand sanitizer for when you inadvertently reach into a bag to grab a clean hoodie on which someone has just vomited (and of which you were previously unaware). Foot spray and Febreze should be self-explanatory, thanks.  And baby wipes...oh yes...when you are told that no one in four bands gets showers because one day the hot water ran out for the headliners, you will NEED those baby wipes.  Badly.  Additionally, I can guarantee that you will encounter venues which have no green room and onesies for restrooms with no locks on the door.  Don’t believe the bartender when she tells you that she’ll “watch the men’s room door” for you while you take a “sink shower,” as someone will undoubtedly walk in on you while you’re in the middle of washing out your armpits, topless.  Oh, and there will be a line of ten guys waiting for the bathroom who will witness this.  (Thanks, Reno, Nevada.)  Lesson learned?  Baby wipes.  Put a blanket over you in the van and use the baby wipes.

4. Roll with the punches.  Everything becomes incredibly surreal at a certain point, and things which are definitely NOT normal just have to be accepted as part of life.  Pick your battles.  Case in point?  A certain male band member (who will remain nameless as I am very professional!) had to be tolerated each and every day when he decided that the most appropriate place to take a monstrous dump was ALWAYS in the ladies’ room.  It didn’t matter if his band had a nice green room or if there was a clean men’s room with locking doors backstage.  Nope.  He could only “output” in the public ladies’ room.  With the door wide open.  It was like it was his mission to literally leave his mark in the ladies’ room each day.  As one of the only female musicians on the tour, you can either roll with it or not.  If not, he may poop on you, and that would suck.  And you may run out of baby wipes.

5. Entertain yourself.  People will get into trouble.  People will fall on top of you (large, heavy, and extraordinarily smelly people, I may add, remembering an instance at the San Francisco venue).  People will puke in your travel bag and not remember it in the morning.  People will randomly leave their soiled underwear just laying around haphazardly.  To avoid getting into trouble yourself, bring a nice supply of papers to grade and a book of crossword puzzles.  You are wholesome after all, yes, being that you’re a middle-aged teacher?  This way, you can have an excuse to gawk at endless shenanigans of half-dressed (in some cases yet in others completely “full Monty”), somewhat socially-inept and seemingly perpetually inebriated musicians and laugh to yourself...all while pretending that you’re completely engrossed in the Sunday Times.  Shit, I just blew my cover...

So, there you go.  Lessons from the road, 101, for 35 year old beginners.  Hope you don’t have to learn these the “hard way” as I did!