The rider’s opulence is directly tied to the popularity of the band: smaller acts in smaller venues may get a 12 pack of Schlitz, a couple of bruised bananas, and a dodgy cold cut sandwich, while more established artists in larger rooms, such as the one I’m with, will have a treasure trove of healthy snacks, nut milks, and top-shelf booze. Likewise, touring bands raid truck stops and especially a venue’s backstage green room, which is stocked with goodies from a pre-agreed-upon shopping list called a rider. On bikes, you resupply at convenience stores, or, if you’re lucky and have the cash, Whole Foods.
That’s definitely a last resort maneuver, however.īoth types of touring are built around self-sufficiency. Just as we’re taught to leave no trace in the woods, rule number one on the tour bus is “no number two on the bus.” Yes, there is a full-service toilet (and even a shower, though I’ve never seen one used for more than storage) but once you see what a couple of days of even the most meticulous number-oneing can do to it, it becomes crystal clear… well, more of a yellow glaze, why number two is a no-no.ĭon’t worry, in emergencies, this rule can be circumvented with a hack called “hot bagging,” AKA pooping in a plastic bag and waiting for the next stop for disposal. Like bikepacking, touring with a band has its own set of rules and etiquette. To someone who loves nothing more than wandering aimlessly looking for weird stuff to take photos of, it’s a perfect pairing. Without a bike it’s easy to fall into a rhythm of not leaving the area directly around the venue – you may cover thousands of miles, but you aren’t really seeing anything new.
Others, well… You’ve seen VH1 Behind the Music. The stress and concerns of ‘normal’ life fade in the rearview. Eventually, though, just as with a long bike trip, the brain adapts to insularity. Even the most rigid façade will crumbles quickly. Alternately, live in a tin can together for a few weeks sleeping stacked in bunks, waking up in foreign – yet eerily similar – parking lots while sharing a single much-abused venue shower day after day. You want to really get to know someone? Get ‘em on a bike and off the grid for a few days. Your world becomes smaller, inwardly focused, and self-sufficient. Contrary to Almost Famous, touring with a band is actually similar to bikepacking.
Brick rigs workshop free#
Best, because who doesn’t love free time? Worst, because a combination of idle hands, sometimes heavy boredom, and a general lack of good judgment make it all too tempting for me to over-indulge in the ever-present self-medication options. One of the best and worst things about only working a couple of hours a night is having endless free days. Plus, the added mobility does wonders for my mental health. It’s like having tours within a tour, exploring everywhere we stop. I’ve spent a lot of time on the road as a band/tour photographer and always try to bring my bike. I do have my bike with me, though, and fully intended to be riding the heck out of it until someone (you know who you are) lost the keys to the monster “New York Proof” padlock and chain securing the bike rack and bikes to the back of our tour bus. You thought I pedaled that whole way? Ha! Not this time. Mostly hugging highways, mostly hung over.Īll without once getting to throw a leg over my bike. Then Denver, across the plains to Saint Louis. Almost lost someone to hypoxia near Telluride. I’m ready for a break – we left Eugene, Oregon, what feels like months ago, meandering our way across Nevada, into Los Angeles, back up through Utah, and over the Rockies. I just finished the first leg of a cross-country tour, now beginning a day off in Cleveland, Ohio. Words and photos by James Joiner ( My feet hurt.
0 kommentar(er)
