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Ryan Granville-Martin is a drummer, producer, songwriter, and string arranger. His debut album, Mouthparts
and Wings, was met with critical acclaim and a follow-up is currently being written. These days, he’s been
touring with Sarah Slean, Jeremy Fisher, and Classic Albums Live. www.ryangranvillemartin.com.
By Ryan Granville-Martin
Being in a Touring Band Is like
Being in an Arranged
Marriage
A
ctually, it’s worse than that. It’s like
being in an arranged marriage to
multiple people.
OK, now that I’ve said that, I’ll walk
it back a little and admit I don’t know the intri-
cacies of arranged marriage, and I’m sure many
develop into strong, committed relationships
(which is actually the point here, as you will
see). But the general idea is that in an arranged
marriage, you are going to be spending a lot of
time eating, sleeping (let’s stick with the literal
sense for our purposes), and generally living with
someone who you didn’t choose.
In this way, being in a touring band is similar,
but the number of people in the band multiplies
the effect, good or bad. This is a potentially scary
proposition as the touring component adds the
reality that you’ll have little space to yourself,
away from your band-spouses, to wash away the
stresses of the road. Inevitably, someone (let’s be
honest, it’s always the guitarist) will drive you
mad with their quirks. Whether you’re in a young
band of eager faces sleeping in vans, on floors,
and on friends’ couches, or you’re a veteran in
a polished and professional touring operation
where you have the luxury of your own hotel
room, the arranged part of the marriage remains
the same.
So how can we ensure this potential disaster
instead blossoms into a solid union of musical and
personal harmony? Or at least a bearable situation
that keeps your homicidal thoughts at bay?
Compromise
I like to joke with my non-arranged wife that a
good compromise is where no one’s happy, but
that really doesn’t have to be the case. Since
the problems typically occur in the build-up of
small things, the solution is simple – just think
about your band-spouses and what impact your
behaviour may be having on them. When making
a pit stop near the end of a 12-hour drive, don’t
62 CANADIAN MUSICIAN
wait until everyone is back in the van to decide
that yes, in fact you do want to wait in the long
Tim Horton’s line after all. If the rider has a vege-
tarian option and you think it looks better than
the non-veggie option, as an omnivore, don’t just
dig into it without checking that the vegetarians
in the group have been taken care of. If you’re
excited about your new three-hour ‘80s playlist
and you’re in shotgun, don’t be a stereo Nazi.
Make sure people want to listen to music and
don’t be offended when someone wants to take a
break in hour two. No one wants Depeche Mode
to be the catalyst for a murderous rampage, but
it’s not out of the question if not handled with
consideration. The examples are infinite, but you
get the point.
Sleep
All of the world’s most notorious band breakups
were the direct result of bad sleep situations.
While that may be fake news, I would not be
surprised if it weren’t. No one is at their best
when they’re tired and sleep can be challenging
on the road in the best of situations. Sharing any
type of sleeping quarters requires compromise
around temperatures, airflow, noise, and above
all, it demands awareness of the other. My best
advice is to figure out early on who snores, who
doesn’t, who can handle snoring, and who can’t.
#earplugs. If it’s 100 per cent individual hotel
rooms, you’re lucky. Anything less and snoring
has to be addressed. Add a night of snore-broken
sleep to the 12-hour drive and three-hour ‘80s
playlist and you’re putting a flint to the tinderbox.
Constructive Criticism
Everyone in the group needs to be comfortable
giving it and open to receiving it. Whether it’s
musical – “Your guitar is too loud” (let’s be hon-
est, it’s always the guitarist), or non-musical – “It
scares the s#*! out of me when you tailgate
on the highway,” if it’s delivered with empathy,
it can be heard with understanding. Seek to
disarm your band-spouses when tensions rise
(ideally before tensions rise) and do so with the
greater good of the music and the health of the
“marriage” in mind.
Lobby Call
Whether you take that literally to mean the
morning meeting time in the lobby of your hotel,
or the time you’re at the van ready to load, or the
time you’re dressed and off the floor, it’s simple:
10 a.m. means 10 a.m. Packed, smoked, yoga’d,
coffee’d, breakfasted, or whatever it is you need
to do in the morning to be ready to ride, do it
before lobby call, unless you’ve agreed to certain
activities on the road (a coffee/breakfast stop, for
example). Everything you do on the road will be
repeated many times over. Waiting for a late bass
player once (one situation that isn’t always the
guitarist) is one thing, but when it starts to build
up (and it will), add that to the snore-broken
sleep, stereo Nazi, poor pit stop etiquette, and
well, now you can see why The Beatles broke up.
Every successful marriage, arranged or otherwise,
has a unique set of compromises, bottom lines,
rules, and methods of communication. If you
can start with yourself, looking at how your be-
haviour impacts others, you’ve covered the most
important step.
There is admittedly very little mention in this
article about the music you’re making with your
band-spouses on tour; that’s because making
music amounts to only a small fraction of your
time together. While creative differences require
their own article, the most common problems I’ve
seen tend to arise in that 90 per cent-plus time you
spend off the stage together. If you can address
that part of your union with openness, treating
your band-spouses with empathy and encour-
aging them to do the same, you will be making
beautiful music together for years to come.