Yes.
Sometimes - most often, in my case - someone else says it best.
24/7
When you’re first of three on a giant tour like this one, it’s easy looking at the schedule and going wow, I have literally one hour of actual work each day.
But between making solid impressions on the other bands and crews 24/7, being inexorably polite to everyone 24/7, and staying out of people’s way while simultaneously seeing and being seen 24/7, it’s actually pretty goddamn exhausting, and our humble 30 minutes on stage feels like the only time we get to relax and be ourselves.
So, on this day off, I’m savoring the pleasures of idleness, reminding myself how much of our perceived self-worth is intrinsically future-oriented, that our obsession with “maximizing time” yanks us from the present, makes savoring impossible and, ironically, derails productivity.
Which is a fancy way of saying “see ya poolside.”
Crystal Bridges
Just got off stage in Rogers AR, and despite performing in direct sunlight and stifling humidity while rocking sure-to-be-immortalized-on-the-internet floral print, I feel reasonably ok, relaxing as I am in the back lounge of the bus, a fizzy water in hand and YouTube conspiracy theory rabbit holes in which to get masochistically lost.
If you find yourself in Northwest Arkansas - and I struggle to imagine a scenario in which you would, unless you work for our benevolent overlords at Walmart corporate (or are a professional rock and roll degenerate) - set aside a few hours to explore the incongruously beautiful Crystal Bridges Museum: an incredible collection, miles of trails adorned with modern art, and opportunities for quiet reflection abound.
Crossing Fingers
Summer packages are assigned catchy titles like “Play That Song” or “The Hits Come Alive,” but really they should all be called “The Exposed Electronics Tour.”
Because playing sheds during the summer sure sounds like a good idea, especially from an air conditioned office, and especially when you begin routing through, say, Phoenix and Santa Barbara.
But when you find yourself in Omaha NE, and the forecast promises mid-80’s and sunny, and you’re met by torrential downpour and hail, which is presently clanging at deafening volume against the roof of the bus, you think about all the lighting fixtures and speakers and amplifiers and instruments and computers and god knows what else - total value in the millions of dollars - and cross your fingers that everything won’t snap, crackle, then pop into (hopefully) insured oblivion.
We managed hastily to tarp all our gear just in time…for the tarp to blow away, and everything to get soaked.
Sigh.
Cold Spark
PYRO! I’M FINALLY ON A TOUR WITH PYRO!
Well, almost. This is actually what’s known as cold spark, shot from, imaginatively, cold sparklers.
It assures you can enjoy a Rammstein-approved show without minor inconveniences like the venue burning down, or the charring of various tour personnel. It also means, as pictured below, that you can fire off confetti during the encore and watch it blow, consequence free, into what appears to be open flame. Neat!
It’s pretty wild - you feel a small amount of heat, as you would standing next to any large-ish light, but you can hold your hand over cold spark and be totally fine. And it’s hilarious eavesdropping on Train’s infinitely patient production manager explaining all this to fire marshals who are mostly just annoyed they’re not working the Brad Paisley show.
I would say don’t try this at home, but you totally can.
LEGO
How you know you’ve made it in the show business: when a fan at the meet and greet presents a LEGO replica of your stage, complete with lighting fixtures, techs, and a whole buncha adorable mini guitars (and I’m sure Craig can look past the indignity of his LEGO likeness being caged behind a drum shield).
Am I jealous? Intensely.
But I’ve caught a glimpse of the mountain top, and it is, my friends, glorious.
Craft
Every Goo Goo Dolls song uses a different tuning, hence the army of acoustic guitars pictured below, about half of what John Rzeznik uses every night.
In the foreground, you see his back up guitar for “Iris,” hands down the most popular song ever inspired by Nicolas Cage.
It’s in our cultural lexicon that song, almost impossibly massive, and yet its origins are humble, more than likely coaxed into existence on that very guitar in a moment of welcome disquiet, after hours of seeking and questioning and nearly giving up.
Its a reminder that, when you strip away the video walls and the pyro and whatever accolades, it’s all about the courage to embrace the blank page.
Sturdy Chain
One of the neat things about being the opening act on a big tour is actually rolling with the tour. Train and the Goo Goo Dolls, for example, either fly between dates or immediately head to hotels when the busses park, showing up at the venue just before soundcheck. We’re here from breakfast ‘til last call, which, if you’re a nerd like me, is heaven.
Take, say, the picture below. Hanging the PA’s a fascinating and sorta terrifying process, linking the speaker stacks (accompanied today by encouragingly little profanity) and yanking them precariously fifty feet or so in the air via two ton motors and, fingers crossed, sturdy chain.
Our PA tech, Nikki, is a superhuman, and I’ve seen her both expertly delegate and undertake the entire process herself, the latter occurring when the local hands have been, to quote a saltier crew member, “brain dead pieces of shit.”
Thankfully, no one seems to mind my being a fly on the wall. I’m learning a lot.
Naval Ravikant
I’m trying my best to relax on this off day, and I’m really enjoying Tim Ferriss’s podcast with Naval Ravikant, CEO and co-founder of AngelList.
You, like me, probably have little to no interest in startups or investing, but this episode’s really about the habits and philosophies of a highly successful and, most importantly, happy person.
It’s an illuminating and thoroughly refreshing conversation.
A Hundred Mortgages
West Valley City UT, aka Salt Lake City UT, aka the first show without managers, label reps, and other dubious industry types decimating the green room deli trays. We are now officially just three bands on tour, and it’s wonderful.
The Allen Stone Band vibe’s always been very laid back and inclusive, whereas the Train and Goo Goo Dolls keep their cards a little closer to their chests. Everyone’s friendly, but they’re decades deep in the game, sober family men, and protective of their time, having long ago made and lost all the friends they’d care to.
We’ve done a thing or two in this business, but none of our songs have been sent into outer space - we’re in the building phase, they’re in the sustaining phase, and there’s a marked difference.
But it’s inspiring - the focus, attention to detail, humility in appreciating how rare it is catching a multi-decade wave, and the perspective to nourish it into a career that pays about a hundred mortgages.
Big Sky
Days off on the road are precious, and today’s was spent exploring the slot canyons and sandstone formations outside of St. George, UT. A welcome reminder that it, whatever it is, probably doesn’t matter quite as much as I think.
Green Tape
There are, between nine busses and eight trucks, 88 people in this touring party, one of whom’s job is to tape the stage every night, as pictured below.
It continually amazes me how much attention to detail’s required pulling off a production this size, and how fortunate I am to be writing this in skinny jeans and pointy boots, ostensibly working for a living, and at least my high school romantic underachievement compelled me to practice arpeggios.
Performers get the glory, but we have, by far, the least important jobs on the road, and I’m grateful for that perspective every single day.
Present Participles
In a production this size, nobody stops moving. Crew workdays are 8am-2am, everyday, a hastily gobbled lunch the only respite from hanging, pinning, tuning, clanging, and generally present participling their way through an ideally-but-never-the-same obstacle course of unforeseeable logistical and technical snafus.
At this time of day, the uniform’s all black, the mood’s undistracted, the tone’s matter-of-fact. I’m not really supposed to be out here. I mean, there’re no rules saying I can’t be, but I’m decidedly out of uniform and blatantly, woefully under qualified. Hence, I’m writing this about as far away from the action as possible while still being able to eavesdrop.
Shortly, band members will emerge from bunks, hunt down catering, and blemish the scene with floral shirts and pointy boots. Until then, I’ll luxuriate in this zero percent chance of rain day, content to learn via osmosis and, fingers crossed, not piss anyone off.
The TLTL Podcast is Back!
Oh yes!
After taking a few months off, the Trevor Larkin Talks and Listens podcast makes its triumphant return, with Episode 28 featuring Ryan Connors, keyboardist, clinician, and music director for one of my favorite bands on the planet, Dynamo.
Check it out on Apple Podcasts or, for non-Apple folks (and I envy you), give it a listen here.
AND the podcast is now available on Spotify!
Mesas
Waking up, slowly but surely, stepping out of the air conditioned cocoon of the bus into the borderline impossible Arizona heat, projected to hit 110 by set time.
The American Southwest is deep and mysterious and challenging and my favorite landscape in the lower forty eight. There’s something about perennial and inhospitable places - whenever I’m in a spiritual deficit, I’ll happily spend weeks at a time lost amongst the mesas.
One of travel’s gifts is a reminder that no one place provides the answers, the truth, or whatever we label that perceived lack within a nebulous sense of otherness.
But movement is soothing, as necessary as water, and in the process of simply endeavoring, the path reveals itself.
Jump Kicking
I’m watching the Goo Goo Dolls side stage, and bassist Robbie Takac’s running all over the place, jump kicking and hooting exuberantly at an increasingly inebriated crowd. He makes frequent pit stops over in bass guitar world, chiefing not-so-surreptitiously on a vape pen, which makes him that much more smiley and apt to jump kick.
He notices my noticing him and, during Johnny Rzeznik’s solo acoustic moment, introduces himself, says we sound really good, how it’s going to be a great summer, and “somehow, I’ve convinced that fucker to keep me around for a few decades.” He says he’s grateful he still has a job, then realizes he’s about to miss his cue, runs back on stage, and resumes jump kicking.
It’s encouraging hearing multi-millionaires with multi-decade careers say they’re happy to still be out here. The road can be tough, but it can also be a celebration, of trails less trodden, nurtured dreams, and going where the light shines.
Jackets and Chains
When you pass Johnny Rzeznik’s dressing room, you see a wardrobe case filled with, as Tom Petty puts it, leather jackets and chains that will jingle.
You also see several photos of his wife and infant daughter, purpose and stability discovered in his early fifties after a predictably circuitous path.
He’s five years sober now, performing with the fire of someone who knows how lucky he has it, and how easily it could’ve gone the other way.
I think about Johnny Rzeznik and so many others, people with magnificently warped DNA and way too much fuck you not to indulge rampaging inner demons.
The upside’s an “Iris,” a song we’ve literally sent into freaking outer space.
The downside? If you’re not careful, maybe the good stuff, the really good stuff, passes you by.
On this tour, I’m a little fish in a big pond, and it’s my job, simply, to pay attention.
Off-Kilter Professionalism
The pre-noon ecosystem of a big tour, not normally welcoming of spoiled band dudes, brings me inordinate comfort, and I’m up early - well, touring musician early, around 7:30am - watching dozens of hardhat-clad local crew unload pieces of LED wall.
The bus and truck drivers, united in their contrariness and off-kilter professionalism, bust each other’s balls, chain smoking in condiment-stained, Costco-brand sweat pants. One of the truck drivers has a Siberian Husky, and my goal tomorrow’s to win its favor by way of bacon from catering.
A well-run stage feels similar to a well-run kitchen - nothing’s rushed, no one’s yelling, and everyone knows, to the microscopic detail, what their job is - and Train’s tour manager calmly directs traffic, barely speaking above a whisper. Both their and the Goo crew are seasoned pros, and appreciative I think of this not being our first rodeo.
Everyone’s still in early tour focus mode, but judging by the progressive metal cranking in the next room, there’re kindred spirits to be met.
Day One
More than playing our thirty minute set and being generally affable, our job as first of three on this Train/Goo Goo Dolls run is staying out of people’s way, and in that capacity here we are, hanging out in the parking lot of the White River Amphitheater, watching truck after truck expertly slalom through an obstacle course of concrete dividers, mobile lighting fixtures, and disheveled personnel.
The first day or two’s always a little interesting, as camps get used to each other and respect’s earned, and fortunately I’ve been doing this long enough to know what everyone’s job is, what their day looks like, and when it’s best, say, to peck away at a daily email newsletter rather than hunt down the barista station.
It’s summer in the PNW, which means it’s cloudy and in the 50’s with a chance of thunderstorms throughout the day, but my floral shirt’s all the radiance I and about 15,000 others will need. A preemptive “you’re welcome” is in order.
Hero
The second Climb The Sky single’s available on all platforms!
Hero was the first song I brought to the table that really got Gideon and Gabe excited, and I think sorta sold them on being in the band.
It’s also the first song we’ve recorded that showcases their unique voices as producers and engineers, tasks I happily delegate to their fastidiousness, perfect-pitch, and photographic musical memories.
The drums, bass, lead vocal, and rhythm guitar were recorded live off the floor, and we ended up using the first take (a small point of pride for me and my, to put it charitably, developing voice).
A couple overdubs and a few hours of gleeful mad scientist-ing later and we had the finished track, along with a unified belief that this is something we absolutely should be doing, even if just to bask in some well-earned jubilance and indulge preposterous, nourishing dreams.
