Miraculous

This year, I’m celebrating the 4th of July in low-key fashion. 

I’ve eaten all my meals at Waffle House, and just slipped my neighbor’s dog a big ol’ slab of bacon - it’s gonna be a rough night for pooches nationwide, and I figure it’s the least I can do. 

My street’s alive with snaps, crackles, pops, bangs and kerpows - I’m settling in, party-pooper that I am, for an early night.

As I’m preparing to head out tomorrow for the second leg of the Train/Goo Goo Dolls tour, I’m spending this evening acknowledging the privileges that being an American has afforded me, and celebrating the people who’ve made my life here possible, namely my parents, who are currently, in glorious retirement, devouring castles made of meringue somewhere in Scandinavia, or possibly Scotland. 

They emigrated here so my sister and I could pursue our dreams. And we both are - her, with a young family and career in finance, and me, luxuriating in threadbare underpants most of the day and getting paid to bend strings out of tune. 

They are both, in their own ways, miraculous. 

New Standards

Delta Rae’s kickstarter campaign’s raised over $174k in 48 hours. 

Taylor Swift and Melissa Etheridge retweeted it. Seven people have donated $10k or more, and Rolling Stone country’s taken notice.

I’m not anti-music industry, but I find complacency abhorrent. Scott Borchetta, the Goliath to Delta Rae’s four-part harmony David, is an easy target, and within his bedazzled, anachronistic nonsense, the takeaway’s obvious:

Artists are writing great songs, finding an audience, and putting out music however the hell we feel like. We are talented, engaged, courageous entrepreneurs, and it’s fucking fantastic calling our own shots. 

The times they are a changin’, and changin’ fast. It’ll be too much for most, maybe especially for famous names from the old guard. We must stop seeking approval from these people and pave our own way.

The industry’s only as good as the music propelling it, and that - thank god - is on us. It’s up to labels and managers to meet the new standard we’re setting.

Delta Rae

Dedicated MoaT readers know how big of a Delta Rae fan I am, and yesterday they launched a Kickstarter campaign for their two album concept, The Light and The Dark.

Delta Rae broke right around the same time as the Al Stone Band, in early 2012, propelled by viral YouTube videos and a touring schedule that’d make Black Flag soil themselves.

They, like us, released a successful indie record and decided to drink the oh-so-delectable major label Kool Aid (Warner Bros and Big Machine in their case, Capitol in ours).

Both projects enjoy a uniquely rabid fanbase of discerning musos who actively encourage putting out music, playing shows that make sense, and building a timeless, bulletproof empire of awesomeness and inclusivity, while actively discouraging Kool Aid of any kind, much less the drinking of it.

And, as of recently, Delta Rate no longer requires the stamp of approval from middle aged men in bedazzled jeans.

Eric, Ian, Brittany, Grant, Mike, and Liz - if there’s a band more qualified to call their own shots, I’d like to meet ‘em. You’re my friends, and you inspire me.

I backed their campaign today. You should, too. 

"Talent"

Today, in the city that hosts my favorite least-favorite airport, the first leg of the Train/Goo Goo Dolls tour comes to a close.

True to form in this part of the world, our set’s pushed back due to inclement weather, and it’s during this unforeseen downtime that I’m writing this, while people who actually work for a living scramble to save impossibly expensive equipment from impossibly large hailstones.

I’ve shadowed everyone on the tour and have a profound appreciation for the warm, fuzzy symbiosis that is a well-oiled rock and/or roll machine, so I know the best thing’s staying the hell out of the way.

Performers are referred to as the “talent.” Well, here I am, tucked meekly away in the corner of our dressing room, dressed like an asshole, possessing precisely none of the skills required to make the show happen. I’m about as “talented” as a hole in the ground.

When the tour picks back up in sunny Florida in a few days, I shall entice mosquitoes, fraternize with retirees from the Northeast, and second guess my life’s path.    

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.