A few weeks ago I wrote a blog about the adventures of professional road-life in a band. I spent almost 6 years of virtually uninterrupted, "living out of a suitcase," life-on-the-go. I don't think I completely unpacked my clothes even once during those 6 years. The art of packing for such a prolonged time span creates a paranoia of losing control of your finely-folded world. Really...the suitcase and, of course, the briefcase contained my entire sustenance! One must remember, my road-dog days lasted from the very beginning of the '80s and ended almost into '86, when a beautiful brunette from Mobile, Alabama, caused me to willingly exit the highway and settle down. Since this was before the days of cell phones and iPods, I suffered great hardship on the unforgiving concrete pathways criss-crossing North America and the world.
By traveling in such compact spaces, and being together 24/7, it is easy to lose one's identity and surrender to the pack mentality.There are some techniques that the road-dog learns to maintain his individuality--to mentally and emotionally survive. This is where books, magazines and music (earphones) come in handy. They create a needed barrier when all you have separating you and your band mate is the air you breathe and the shirt on your back. As I mentioned in the last blog, the 1 hour rule before speaking to anyone after climbing aboard the bus in the morning is a life saver (literally...you wanna murder the incessant talkers...loud talkers are worse). Malls are a great diversion because you can stretch your legs, get some air and be alone for a while.
Learning to sleep, and the many techniques one must experiment with to get it, is a necessary way of physically surviving the road. Getting adequate rest while sitting in the up-position is a talent I learned while traveling by van in the early days. I would go to sleep somewhere in rainy Tennessee, let's say, and wake up after 8, solid hours in sunny Florida. Sleeping on the floor of a van is a wicked feat only accomplished by the young, nimble and comatose. After a while the body gets used to such abuse and surrenders to it's cruelty. Do or die-- adapt or get off the bus!
A much-coveted skill practiced by hard-core roadies is the ability to roll cords. Novices are not welcomed. The art of pinch-n-roll has been practiced by road musicians since sound systems were invented. The beauty of a well-rolled cord is it's ability to be unrolled without snags, knots or twists. A roadie will rip a cable from the hands of a well-meaning, post-show helper and roll it himself rather than suffer the consequences of poor roll-manship!
Not an art but a staple in the life of every road-dog is duct tape. I have used it for suitcase repair, U-Haul trailer leak-stopper, road atlas cover protector and band-aids. It is the glue that holds the road-world together. And not just any gaffer's tape will do. The cheap stuff does more damage than good. It leaves behind evidence. The good stuff costs a lot more but the results are outstanding. The manager of the venues we visited didn't appreciate a sticky mess after our circus left town.
The last observation of my road experience today is the kitchen entrance. Why is it that every band I have been with loads in and out through the kitchen? We hustle past the smelly garbage on the dock into the equally stench-laden elevator, past the coffee brewing (good smell) and the food prep, into the ballroom where 50 servers are pouring ice-water into glass goblets, 2 hours before the gig. Every major artist enters the stage through the kitchen. Isn't that where RFK met his fate? Come to think of it, Reagan almost lost his life at a Washington, D.C. Hilton on March 30, 1981, near the kitchen as he was leaving.
Road life may have taken me through the oddest paces of any other endeavor I have attempted in my almost 50 years on earth. It has also led me through the catacombs beneath Walt Disney World; brought me to stand on the foundation of the Acropolis in Athens, Greece; led me to rise up from the subway in Rome to the beautiful panorama of the Colosseum; and to a bluff overlooking a harbor in Iceland. You see, road life has its payoff. I will never under-estimate the valuable lessons I gained through those wonderful experiences. I will always be grateful for the toughness it brought to my character. I wouldn't trade it for anything...well, maybe a decent night's sleep.
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