The Oppenheimer Report - 8/6/18

 

Photo by Shauna Leigh Taylor

I am always excited to hear about other people’s road trips, especially where they involve music tours. Vicariously, I imagine myself out on the open road, free and unencumbered by the day to day responsibilities of my life. When I was younger, I fantasized about hopping in my car for an impromptu road trip, travelling to the Southwest United States, and playing every gig I could find from New Orleans to Austin. Perhaps it’s the allure of the unknown, or the uncertainty and potential danger of being out of my comfort zone, or the exhilaration of maybe developing a fan base. Whatever the dream was, it was just that, a dream, and as I know from the experiences of others, the reality is never quite so glorious and exciting.

Many of my younger musician friends up here – and it seems like more and more of them are much younger than I – have done at least one tour, and vicariously I thrive on their adventures. Through them, and their posts on Facebook, I am provided a window into their travels. One songwriter friend, in his twenties, annually hops in his van and drives out to B.C., hitting various venues he books along the way, and documenting his experience. One day not too long ago, I bumped into him at the local supermarket, and saw the matrass in the back of his van. He jokingly quipped, “Yep, welcome to my home away from home.” Oh, to be young again. Years ago, my friends Juan Barbosa and Jeff Stamp, both local singer songwriters, did an ill-fated tour of the Maritimes. Afterwards, Jeff wrote a song entitled “Truckin’ ” about the experience. That road trip was filled with problems, from bad weather, gigs and lodgings that fell through, and all the other attendant problems which accompany an under-funded trip to an unknown destination. I called it the “hope and a prayer tour”. In one video they posted, they were performing out east on a colorfully lit stage, complete with a mirror ball and other special effects, but what we the viewers do not see is the absence of an audience. I talked to a young singer songwriter from Leamington, who performed recently at the monthly “Third Friday Coffee House” in Burk’s Falls. Exhilarated in anticipation of embarking on a short tour in Ontario to promote his recently released debut EP, he clearly needed to get this tour out of his system. I also knew in my heart that there would be disappointment, and loneliness involved. These tours can be soul-sucking, and are hard on families. Leaving behind a wife and three or four children, this guy was dreaming of something that I think only exists in our imaginatiion.  

Over the years, I have listened to the enthusiasm of hundreds of young upstarts as the venture out into the world to apprise the world of their musical creativity. More often than not, they return from these tours road weary, and perhaps not quite as confident of their ability to lead this troubadour’s life. Secretly, I suppose I take some twisted pleasure in imagining their less-than-well-attended gigs in Medicine Hat, Alberta, or Bumfuck, Saskatchewan, because it validates my reluctance to give in to my own wanderlust. I doubt I am alone in imagining my road trip adventures, and I will always look at a motorcycle and imagine myself rolling down some empty western highway, guitar strapped on my back, headed for a well-attended concert filled with my (imagined) adoring fans. The reality is miles away from the dream, but I comfort myself with the delusion from time to time. What has become apparent to me, largely through the travel experiences of others, is that I live in a beautiful home, and I am less and less inclined to leave it. If anyone really wants to see me perform (I have after all gone “Plywood” in Huntsville) I’m around, but my adoring fans in Bumfuck, Saskatchewan are just going to have to wait until some as yet undisclosed sponsor throws piles of money at me to go out on the road. Don’t hold your breath waiting for that to happen!

    - Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2018 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED