We’ve been back at the touring gig for about 3 weeks now. The novelty of the road is just now starting to lose it’s appeal. Maybe it’s just today…well, and yesterday, but I feel suddenly spent. I think we all must. And it’s times like this when all the little things seem to get under our skin, “Someone left the van un-locked, again!” and, “Uh, guys…I left my toiletries bag at the hotel,” and, “Hey! DAAAAAN!!! I’m on the phone, cut it out!” and, “There’s no green room again? *sigh* I’ll be in the van.”
I’m tired of being in the van. There’s no green room tonight, I’m in it right now. It’s confined and congested with pillows, blankets, clothes, water bottles, food, trash, books, bags, electronics, cables, and the list goes on. You’ve seen a 15 passenger van before - try to picture yourself and 4 roommates (or siblings) cramming everything you use daily into one of these things. This is your home for the next two months. And home it is, you’ll return to it constantly. You’ll find it a place to rest or escape the night’s commotion. Sure, it has it’s charm, but I liken the phenomenon to the way a dog grows accustomed to it’s crate.
Thing is though, when it’s our turn to take the stage each night, the last thing I’m thinking about is how difficult it is to use my laptop on some shitty east-coast turnpike. No way, this is where it all makes sense. This is why we spent all of last night driving. We’re here to play a rock ‘n roll show and to play it better than we did yesterday. If the van is our kennel, the venue is our backyard. The show is when we get a little play time!