I'm in the band . . . and we're going on tour

What will happen when we rocksters get personal for a 10-day, 10-show road trip? Let's load up the van and go

By Erin Walter
SPECIAL TO THE AMERICAN-STATESMAN
Wednesday, May 24, 2006

On stage at Trophy's Bar last week, hearing the horrible buzz of my bass speaker blowing up halfway through my band's first song, two little words kept running through my head: thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.

Thank you, gods of rock, for letting this happen in Austin and not Oklahoma. Or Kansas. Or Wisconsin.

Sure, it's aggravating to experience a public meltdown of your musical equipment (and to know you'll have to shell out several hundred bucks to replace it). But it would be a million times worse on the road, which is where I'm headed.

My three-member band, the Personals, embarks upon its first tour Monday. We'll play 10 shows in 10 days in six states, and we'll do everything — drive the van, lug the gear, sell the T-shirts and who knows what else — by ourselves. DIY (do-it-yourself) touring is a way of life for independent musicians all over the country. This summer, thousands of bands from Austin and everywhere else will head out on the road to play clubs, basements and art spaces.

Best-case scenario, it will be two weeks of playing my favorite songs with my favorite people, making new friends and seeing the country, one mile at a time. Of course, with gas near $3 a gallon, I'm not holding my breath about making much money. And after the Trophy's show, part of me just hopes nothing explodes.

But I am psyched for an adventure, and it feels good to know that on my deathbed, I won't have to say, "I wish I'd gone on tour with a band."

This spring has been a blur for the Personals — singer/guitarist Adam White, drummer Kristen Brown, and me, the bassist and de facto band manager. (Erin Black is my stage name, to continue the color theme.) It's not like we can quit our day jobs. Teaching elementary school (me), selling furniture (Adam) and researching architectural history (Kristen) currently pay way better than rock 'n roll.

The three of us have never left Austin together before, except in April when we drove to the not-so-punk-rock Fort Worth suburb of Flower Mound to buy a van to replace the old Volvo station wagon we were originally going to take on the road.

As a three-piece, we could actually squeeze our gear and our bodies into the Volvo. But not much else; plus it lacked a radio and air conditioning. Before he decided to buy the van, Adam had summed up our space constraints by pointing at me one night. "You only get to bring one pair of boots on tour," he said. "And you have to wear them in the car!"

This would have been unthinkable comfort-wise — knee-high black boots in June with no air conditioning!? — and absolutely unforgivable fashionwise, since my official role is bass/vocals/go-go boots. Thankfully, the van gives me room to bring more than one bass (in case a string breaks) and more than one outfit. Could I leave home without my usual array of miniskirts, striped tights and Joan Jett T-shirts? Could I choose between packing my furry leopard platform boots and the Doc Martens with the Union Jack flag on the toes? I'm just glad I don't have to find out.

Musician friends keep telling me that the Internet and MySpace have taken much of the wait-and-see agony out of booking. That may be true, but even with the guidance of friends in experienced Austin touring bands such as Okkervil River, Lions and Moonlight Towers, it still felt like a ton of work.

A fellow bassist who used to book her band's tours lamented to me, "When a show on your tour is great, you all did it together. When it's lame, it's your fault because you booked it."

And last year I ran into a friend from one of my favorite Austin bands the night they returned from the road. "How was the tour?" I asked, cheerily. "We broke up!" he said.

Great. No pressure.

But high stakes aside, the Personals could be almost any family going on a summer road trip. We'll take turns driving and napping, look for silly tourist-trap photo opportunities and try to hold out as long as possible between pit stops. Of course, we'll also be crossing our fingers that no one busts into the van and steals our gear while we go to Graceland.

We planned the tour around places we've lived before, which means extra motivation in Nashville for Kristen, Chicago for me and pretty much all of Wisconsin for Adam, a Packers fan who saw his first punk show in Green Bay in 1986 (by a band called Jodie Foster's Army) and who has already informed the girls in the Personals that, hangover or not, we'll be stopping at Lambeau Field and the Green Bay Packers Museum. All of us are looking forward to arriving in Madison, Wis., where for one night we'll share the stage with fellow Austin rock band Dixie Witch to show Wisconsin how it's done, Texas-style.

In many places, we can stay with friends and family, including my husband, who works in Chicago and keeps an apartment two blocks from our June 4 venue. But we have no clue yet where we're crashing in Oklahoma, Kansas or Arkansas.

A member of the Meat Purveyors, a band with more than a decade of touring experience, implored us to bring our own towels, pillows and sheets. Folks who let bands crash on their floors don't always have fully stocked linen closets, she warned.

With just days left until we leave, we still have to pack, map out the route, double-check our equipment, and remind friends in the Midwest that we're coming. I'm positive we're forgetting something. Nagging questions creep into my mind while I'm reading to first graders.

When, if at all, will we get to wash our clothes? Will I actually have to witness Kristen consuming her favorite road-trip snack — V8, string cheese and M&Ms — eaten almost simultaneously? Can we get home with our lungs and livers intact? Will we even be able to stand each other by Chicago? Will anyone show up? Will my new amplifier explode?

There's only one way to find out, of course, and that's to get in the van and go. Look out, Stillwater, Okla. I am ready to rock.