For any band looking to take their career to the next level, it's likely they're going to have to spend some time on the road. Not only is it essential for promoting your music to new fans, it's one of the main ways artists make a living. And while playing live is what most musicians aspire to do as much as possible, living on the road can be exhausting, costly, and very unpredictable.
Cambridge-based alternative rock band The Ballroom Thieves spend about 10 months out of each year on the road, playing all over the country and more. Our managing editor at Sonicbids had the pleasure of catching one of their sets at this year's SXSW, and she was so impressed by the caliber of their performance that she knew we had to grab them for an interview. We caught up with the band's badass cellist, Calin Peters, to talk about how they stay sane on the road, how they measure their touring success, and some of the craziest things they've experienced while driving cross country.
Thankfully we've weathered the storm that is SXSW twice before, so we felt mildly prepared for this year's Austin trip. We took our time touring down the East Coast and used the same quality-over-quantity approach as we tried the year before. It's a lively festival with an overwhelming amount of great bands and great food bursting at the seams of a unique neighborhood. It's a tiring week, but we'll probably get the hang of it at some point.
It is indeed insane to spend 10 months a year in a small space with two other adults, so we each have ways of finding our happy place in times of mayhem. Martin [Earley] passes the time on his drives listening to podcasts, and Devin [Mauch] and I sleep out of extreme podcast-overload boredom. Just kidding, we totally tolerate it.
In all seriousness, we like to relax in hotel hot tubs whenever possible, take alone time when we can, and always try to take advantage of what the town of the moment has to offer. There's some wild stuff to see across this nation.
We also have learned or created a plethora of strange games, such as Sandwich Punch, Odds, Darts, Scat, and when all else fails, we make bets on mundane life moments, as in, "Will you give me an arm massage and be my beer slave for the week if I get this orange peel into the trash from where I'm sitting?" Classic.
On-the-go living is generally difficult. We're at the mercy of our home base of the day, which, depending on the venue, could run the gamut from a lavish green room with a gloriously fulfilled rider, to an abandoned, pornographically graffitied men's bathroom with one working fluorescent light that you claim as your dressing room for five life-affirming minutes.
Also, It's not always possible to foresee how certain inevitable adult problems can become more of a challenge without a solid home. This year, I proudly broke my own record of bad luck and clumsiness and dragged myself through an almost nonstop four-month run of shows with pretty bad bronchitis. Finding ERs that would be covered by my meek insurance and then obtaining somewhat bearably priced medication out of state isn't my most treasured memory.
Then, this winter during our first tour in Canada, Dev helped me [during] the unfortunate accident of breaking my tooth and having to figure out dental insurance in another country. Mass health is cool... if you're in Massachusetts. However, you're right – this life has been my real dream since I was a kid, so I'll try to handle whatever comes my way.
[Do You Have What It Takes to Tour?]
We have about the same itinerary every day, despite the ever-changing nature of our lifestyle. Unless we're on a massive driving journey, or we've got a horrifically early session or daytime show, we leave our hotel mid-morning and try our damnedest to find the most local, interesting, and/or organic breakfast possible. Sometimes the nation fails us and that means Panera, Starbucks, and of course, the unmentionables. Other days, we get lucky and it's crawfish and beer or biscuits and gravy – one of my most favorite American delicacies.
After brunch (not the coveted weekend affair, you know, it's the poor person's version of two meals in one), we drive to our next show. A day-of-show drive is never more than six hours, and probably quite a few less. We arrive at our city du jour, load in, soundcheck, dance the all-too-familiar dance of finding adequate nourishment, and play the show. After we spend some time meeting some attendees, we pack up, load out, and load back in to our hotel room to wind down and sleep. Rinse and repeat.
We measure success by small increments across the board. Slowly but surely, all the little aspects of our business improve. For example, when we play a city for the first time, and there are 10 new faces taking a chance on us, if by the next time we've doubled it, we'll call that a small victory! We're three happy people who get to do what they love for a living, so we feel successful in that way.
I believe the most important ingredient for a consistent show is passion. We love to play music, and many times the chances to do so are the highlight of the day. Often, we're ready to give a show everything we've got and end up having a rough show anyway, due to a number of variables, be it difficult onstage sound, awful room, grumpy sound person, what have you. When the road brings our spirits down, we do our best to leave it all behind and have fun onstage. Tough shows can be disheartening, but it's easy to let it go and remember you're playing music for a living.
[10 Tips for Playing a Mindblowing Set (Other Than Playing Really F***ing Well)]
This past year was the most time we've ever spent on the road. It turned out to be pretty much our limit, but provided some times we would have missed had we taken on a lighter schedule.
Two of our more epic experiences are seeing over 70 orca whales off of Orca's Island at Doe Bay Music Festival, and spontaneously pulling off the interstate to a sketchy looking roadside farmhouse to pick up three dope cow skulls for the homes we don't currently have, before haulin' it from Oregon to Massachusetts in under four days to catch our afternoon soundcheck at Fresh Grass Festival.
We had one experience that I can actually confirm was crazy, since it seems we momentarily lost our minds due to lust over nameless Boston band friends and partied harder than usual at the designated band condo our trusting venue bestowed upon us, which earned us a visit from the cops and possibly a semi-nude bunch of happy, drunk, but otherwise well-behaved friends. The road is a weird place.