IMO, a lot of people read books like 'Get in the Van' and romanticized them. This also coupled well with the way we treated "sellout" as a 4-letter word in the late 80s/early 90s. The more hardcore you were (literally or figuratively), the better. The 2nd order effect was a fan base demanding more and more from a band while also not wanting them to have any sort of large scale success.
I know I'm not saying anything new here (especially to a musician that lived it!), but looking back at it, it all seems so upside down and contradictory.
And while I'd like to think that mindset has largely been left in the rearview mirror, one only has to read the backlash Wednesday got when they talked about their SxSW experience a few years ago to see that it is very much alive and well.
Thank you for an enjoyable piece. I feel like the need to be "road dogs" isn't just because of an aesthetic or worldview, it might also be due to an economic framework in which musicians (and other people in the music industry) absolutely need to tour in order to survive and thrive.
These days, I have noticed some models -- represented on social media, which means that none of us can really vouch for its effectiveness -- where people are living on the road in a seemingly heathy way. I'm thinking of folks who have embraced models of modern nomadic life. Maybe that's could be useful to today's "road dogs"?
Yeah, I decided to separate the economic question from the physically sustainable question because, obviously, bands in the modern era are far more tethered to touring as a source of income than we were even 20 years ago. This created a different question of sustainability, which is: Can the current market actually support a plurality of "road dog" bands? Because at some point, "touring forever" means playing the same places more than once a year—and at some point that will inevitably create diminishing returns. It's a very fragile ecosystem!
Scowl and Militarie Gun said they were willing to sell their songs to Taco Bell ads because they eat there constantly on the road. I have to wonder what years of having to survive on fast food does to musicians' health, especially once they get past their 20s.
Sixteen-year-old me would have called them sellouts, now I see those commercials and think "who better to endorse Taco Bell than touring hardcore bands?"
"certain bands turned their box trucks into personal gyms, with free weights and benches designed for exercising on tour every day."
The band we toured with that surprised me most with this portable gym was Elliott, mostly because they didn't fit the stereotype of macho hardcore types that did the draggable weight system. Those dudes pumped iron in parking lots and then dawned the best of sweaters and thick glasses for the stage.
Those days of long hours in vans with no AC, creaky makeshift lofts, illegal phone dialers, nazi punching at rest stops, and plenty of "demo wars" in the van (blasting cassettes or CDRs of bands from the night prior, rating them and chucking them out the window on highways... we weren't very Earth first, I must admit). We all lived off of stolen ramen at gas stations, heated by hot water at coffee/tea stations, devoured two at a time once back in the van in those Tupperware containers that let you pour out water through a small poppable opening.
I miss the wondrous and supportive kids met while on these tours, some of the family-like friendships, and new styles of incredible bands (accidentally getting thrown onto a house show with Karate, etc.). I learned so much on 20 years of touring, mostly about patience and how to be more openminded.
This one hit me with a slow burn. The thing I looked forward to most in high school, and one of the very few things that actually made me happy, was jumping in a car with a group of friends and driving to a show over the weekend or summer. Even during those blissful experiences, where I was able to come back home after and was traveling with people I chose to hang out with and mostly liked, I always had an escape. There was always some book I had to read or something I needed to listen to, privately with headphones. Today I lean on Airpods, big time, to take space when I need it-at work, home, or while traveling.
Thinking back to what I thought being on tour was, I had this romantic idea that it was like being in a sustained state of happiness. Like what I felt, when I had plans to travel to a show. I can’t believe how much that thinking lacks any kind of insight and defies all reason, especially considering how withdrawn I would become just over the course of a day trip. But, I always just chalked that up to being awkward. I feel like social media does a lot to amplify this idea of fetishization, it’s just so curated and can evoke such strong emotions without any real depth of thought.
As usual, awesome and thought provoking piece. I have so many more thoughts on this, but I will stop here.
Great piece. Would be interesting to interview Sick of It All about this question as they have probably done this more than just about any other punk/hc band in history as you noted. How have they been able to make it work for themselves and their families financially, physically, emotionally, etc. over nearly 40 years?
The verses to Jawbreaker's "Tour Song" are so beautifully evocative of the whole experience. The first verse is the reality the band are living, the second touches on the simultaneous fear, excitement, and uncertainty of those kids for whom this show is a big deal, and might even be life-changing.
Might I add 25 Cent Giraffes in there, even though it could really be taken in either side of those representations? 😬
That said, this topic has popped up a lot lately for me thanks to plotting out the first tour I’ll be doing again in well over 20 years and I can’t help but be THANKFUL AS FUCK that it is 100% on our terms, and still conscious that it’s greatly due to our daytime “careers” and equally grateful of having that luxury.
I never understood the nonstop touring but that’s mostly on me and my wiring since the moment the art turns into a chore, I’m out. Still, we are also in a completely different era now where I think a middle ground to that can be found… at least I hope it can be.
Reading this reminded me of Some Come Running by Bane.
"I'll keep getting in the van / Worry about money for the rest of my life / Just so that you can have this to talk about"
Reading the full lyrics now, I see it about the importance of live shows while recognizing the real challenges it places on the artist.
IMO, a lot of people read books like 'Get in the Van' and romanticized them. This also coupled well with the way we treated "sellout" as a 4-letter word in the late 80s/early 90s. The more hardcore you were (literally or figuratively), the better. The 2nd order effect was a fan base demanding more and more from a band while also not wanting them to have any sort of large scale success.
I know I'm not saying anything new here (especially to a musician that lived it!), but looking back at it, it all seems so upside down and contradictory.
And while I'd like to think that mindset has largely been left in the rearview mirror, one only has to read the backlash Wednesday got when they talked about their SxSW experience a few years ago to see that it is very much alive and well.
It's funny, but I feel as if I may have blocked "Get In The Van" from my memory because I hated it so much. Even back then. 🙃
Thank you for an enjoyable piece. I feel like the need to be "road dogs" isn't just because of an aesthetic or worldview, it might also be due to an economic framework in which musicians (and other people in the music industry) absolutely need to tour in order to survive and thrive.
These days, I have noticed some models -- represented on social media, which means that none of us can really vouch for its effectiveness -- where people are living on the road in a seemingly heathy way. I'm thinking of folks who have embraced models of modern nomadic life. Maybe that's could be useful to today's "road dogs"?
Yeah, I decided to separate the economic question from the physically sustainable question because, obviously, bands in the modern era are far more tethered to touring as a source of income than we were even 20 years ago. This created a different question of sustainability, which is: Can the current market actually support a plurality of "road dog" bands? Because at some point, "touring forever" means playing the same places more than once a year—and at some point that will inevitably create diminishing returns. It's a very fragile ecosystem!
Scowl and Militarie Gun said they were willing to sell their songs to Taco Bell ads because they eat there constantly on the road. I have to wonder what years of having to survive on fast food does to musicians' health, especially once they get past their 20s.
Sixteen-year-old me would have called them sellouts, now I see those commercials and think "who better to endorse Taco Bell than touring hardcore bands?"
To be fair, Taco Bell is a LOT healthier now than it was in the '90s. I will spare you the food poisoning stories!
"There's No Way I Can Talk Myself Out Of This Bathroom Tonight (The Puking Song)."
Thank you.
"certain bands turned their box trucks into personal gyms, with free weights and benches designed for exercising on tour every day."
The band we toured with that surprised me most with this portable gym was Elliott, mostly because they didn't fit the stereotype of macho hardcore types that did the draggable weight system. Those dudes pumped iron in parking lots and then dawned the best of sweaters and thick glasses for the stage.
Those days of long hours in vans with no AC, creaky makeshift lofts, illegal phone dialers, nazi punching at rest stops, and plenty of "demo wars" in the van (blasting cassettes or CDRs of bands from the night prior, rating them and chucking them out the window on highways... we weren't very Earth first, I must admit). We all lived off of stolen ramen at gas stations, heated by hot water at coffee/tea stations, devoured two at a time once back in the van in those Tupperware containers that let you pour out water through a small poppable opening.
I miss the wondrous and supportive kids met while on these tours, some of the family-like friendships, and new styles of incredible bands (accidentally getting thrown onto a house show with Karate, etc.). I learned so much on 20 years of touring, mostly about patience and how to be more openminded.
Great read Norm, per usual!
This one hit me with a slow burn. The thing I looked forward to most in high school, and one of the very few things that actually made me happy, was jumping in a car with a group of friends and driving to a show over the weekend or summer. Even during those blissful experiences, where I was able to come back home after and was traveling with people I chose to hang out with and mostly liked, I always had an escape. There was always some book I had to read or something I needed to listen to, privately with headphones. Today I lean on Airpods, big time, to take space when I need it-at work, home, or while traveling.
Thinking back to what I thought being on tour was, I had this romantic idea that it was like being in a sustained state of happiness. Like what I felt, when I had plans to travel to a show. I can’t believe how much that thinking lacks any kind of insight and defies all reason, especially considering how withdrawn I would become just over the course of a day trip. But, I always just chalked that up to being awkward. I feel like social media does a lot to amplify this idea of fetishization, it’s just so curated and can evoke such strong emotions without any real depth of thought.
As usual, awesome and thought provoking piece. I have so many more thoughts on this, but I will stop here.
Great piece. Would be interesting to interview Sick of It All about this question as they have probably done this more than just about any other punk/hc band in history as you noted. How have they been able to make it work for themselves and their families financially, physically, emotionally, etc. over nearly 40 years?
The verses to Jawbreaker's "Tour Song" are so beautifully evocative of the whole experience. The first verse is the reality the band are living, the second touches on the simultaneous fear, excitement, and uncertainty of those kids for whom this show is a big deal, and might even be life-changing.
Might I add 25 Cent Giraffes in there, even though it could really be taken in either side of those representations? 😬
That said, this topic has popped up a lot lately for me thanks to plotting out the first tour I’ll be doing again in well over 20 years and I can’t help but be THANKFUL AS FUCK that it is 100% on our terms, and still conscious that it’s greatly due to our daytime “careers” and equally grateful of having that luxury.
I never understood the nonstop touring but that’s mostly on me and my wiring since the moment the art turns into a chore, I’m out. Still, we are also in a completely different era now where I think a middle ground to that can be found… at least I hope it can be.
Seriously, though. 25 Cent Giraffes.