Stories of rock stars throwing televisions out of hotel windows have colored perceptions of being “on tour” since the genre’s heyday half a century ago. The reality, for most mid-tier gigging musicians anyway, is more mundane: a gas-station Subway sandwich or a bowl of warm ramen located near the venue.
The only thing more central to touring than the music, it turns out, is the grub.
That’s the premise of “Taste in Music: Eating on Tour with Indie Musicians,” a new essay collection compiled by Alex Bleeker, bassist of the Brooklyn-based group Real Estate; and Luke Pyenson, a food writer who previously played in the indie bands Frankie Cosmos and Krill.
“Once we get on the road, the amount of time we spend onstage is dwarfed by the amount of time we spend in transit and at the table,” the authors write in the introduction.
San Francisco’s Chronicle Books published the collection of more than 40 entries in September. They examine backstage hospitality, self-care and body image issues, extolling the power of a good meal while on the road between music halls.
“That was one of the things that we were really excited about [was], through food, to be able to shed a different kind of light on what it’s like for people in our corner of the touring world,” Bleeker said.
Just what makes a good meal, anyway? Pyenson said it depends on the performer, because food is highly personal. But not getting one might contribute to a less-than-stellar night onstage.
“If each person didn’t get the meal that was right for them, absolutely, it affects the performance, and I’ve certainly had that happen,” he said.
Insights from artists both marquee (Talking Heads) and DIY (All Dogs) color the book. Fleet Foxes’s Robin Pecknold praises and eviscerates Subway’s veggie patty, a “gray-brown mélange of unidentifiable vegetal ingredients” which kept him fed during five plant-based years on the road.
A more mouth-watering entry comes from Sasami Ashworth, an Eastman School of Music graduate who writes of a brief stay outside Dublin fueled by Irish soda bread and thick-cut bacon. But one of the zaniest tales happened in Rochester, at the former music venue Milestones on East Avenue (now Flour City Station).
Eric Slick, best known as the drummer of Philadelphia folk-rock band Dr. Dog, began his touring career as part of a Frank Zappa tribute act. He was 18 years old, drumming along to complex songs with unexpected tempo changes. “To say I was an anxious mess is an understatement,” he writes.
One way he soothed himself was through food — “Rockstar Energy drinks and boxes of Honey Bunches of Oats” with his $10 per diem. But as Slick candidly and vulnerably explores, he also struggled with binge-eating episodes, including backstage at Milestones on May 10, 2006, when he ate four brownies in rapid succession.
The problem? The brownies were infused with weed.
“I remember that venue so well, but, I mean, I was also high out of my mind,” Slick recalled. “It’s entirely possible that I was in a simulation that day.”
The disenchantment doubled when Slick was cornered by a TV crew led by local public-access puppet Pisspot the Rabbit between sets. The footage is chaotic without even knowing that the long-haired teenager talked into plopping in plastic buck teeth on camera is stoned beyond belief.
Now 37, Slick recalls the substance-fueled experience with hard-won levity. But he lingers on the body image issues that led him to scarf down the brownies in the first place.
“I’ve really struggled over the years with getting tagged in photos on Instagram and being like, ‘I don’t like that photo of myself.’ It’s kind of like dealing with body dysmorphia in real time,” he said. “Somebody’s like, ‘I posted this nice photo of you. Can you repost it?’ And I see it, and I’m like, ‘Oh god, no.’”
Though it seems like indie rockers historically chose baggy t-shirts and jeans to convey a total disinterest in fashion or style, Slick said he sees through that faulty logic.
“I’m always surprised at how image-driven the indie culture actually is, because I signed up for it thinking the same thing, and I realized quickly that it’s really no different than any of the other genres in music,” he said. “You might be wearing a t-shirt, but people will also judge you based on what t-shirt you wear.”
Bleeker agrees, and has bonded with Slick in the past over their shared history of compulsive eating in the indie sphere. He also called Slick’s essay a “big confirmation moment” for the book’s eventual success as a concept.
“When I was first getting involved in [indie rock], and touring in particular, it was the antithesis to the pop world,” Bleeker said. “Yet I felt this kind of layered, confusing shame. It was, ‘I don’t care about [image], and people in my community don’t care about that at all,’ when of course I’m sure it was affecting so many of us.”
Slick caps his essay by mentioning his work with a dietitian to recognize his own disordered eating, and Pyenson noted he’s eager to see this kind of openness sparking conversations around the hidden costs of touring.
“What I hope happens from this book is that people who have not been on tour or don’t have anybody in their life who’s a touring musician realize this is a crazy way to live, and this is what people are actually going through,” he said. “And maybe to approach the topic of going on tour with a little bit more nuance and empathy.”
Ultimately, in Slick’s case, there were no hard feelings toward Rochester. He returned in 2015 with Dr. Dog to play the Lilac Festival. “I remember that show because someone tried to bring me a Dinosaur Bar-B-Que mess plate,” he said.
Whether that fan knew it or not, they were part of a rich culinary tradition. As Bleeker and Pyenson point out at the beginning of the book: “Tour represents the beautiful exchange between Band and Audience, the singular, ecstatic marvel of live music. But that lasts about an hour.”
The rest of the time, it’s all about the chow — and everything that comes with it.
Patrick Hosken is an arts reporter at CITY. He can be reached at patrick@rochester-citynews.com.
This article appears in Oct 1-31, 2024.
