Blog #18: Updates for One Guy

Finally back from the band tour and back at my desk, just in time to start the crunch on upcoming projects that I have to grind out before I hit the road for the west coast.

First I just want to say thank you to everyone who came out to these shows. It was a real adventure and it couldn't have happened without y'all.

Scroll down to skip my babble and just read the updates.

When the band and I loaded up on "Bluey," the bus we had for the northern leg, I remember talking to Mike and Mario, who I've been playing music with since I was a kid, and us geeking out together over how we were "doing the thing." "You know, that thing? From our childhood dreams?" Lots of proud back-pats and big wows at how we were a real touring rock band. The experience of sharing audiences larger than I ever expected to see -- with those kids I remember, now all grown up, was surreal and frankly a little emotional.

I called the driver "buck-o" when I found him messing with his phone while going 60 miles an hour with ten un-seat-belted sleeping people trusting him with their lives. Well, most of them sleeping, some of them drenched from the leak in the roof. I myself couldn't get a wink being tossed around in the back. It didn't change much with the replacement driver they sent after having the original sent off to another job; he told us about how the engine was overdue for necessary maintenance between stories of driving various celebrities (well yeah that's your job, we aren't going to be starstruck by you when you say "Snoop Dogg") before also being caught using his phone and breaking the jack off my trailer. It was after the owner of the company told me using a handheld mobile device while driving a bus was "not really" illegal I found the company had a "conditional" safety rating from the FMCSA.

But despite my poor sleep I kept up my health, avoiding nicotine and exercising almost every morning. We had to be sure we were truly in tip-top shape; and bring our biggest and best energy to these crowds, and to savor every moment of the adventure. Stealing bowling shoes for a stage costume when we played a former bowling alley. The guys going off on a sudden adventure with The Time and returning with new moves and motivation. Strange roadside attractions on days off. An impromptu set at the Hall of Fame. We were inspired, thrilled, and the audiences could feel it. We could feel them feeling it. Over and over I was honored to see so many young people coming out of their shells and letting go in ways many people rarely feel the freedom to do. Phones in their pockets, belting along, dancing and moshing in showers of confetti and conga lines. Listening intently to the spoken elements of the show and seemingly enraptured by the softer moments. We found new ways of interacting, tested out and reaped the benefits of new stage setups, and all found ways to make time for fans after the shows.

Every sword is double-edged, or might as well be if you can't find the handle on it. Nothing beautiful comes without an ugly price. There is something poisonous about the fun, too. Being a real touring rock band, at least for me, is like alcohol. Ask the front row, they'll tell you whether or not I was "sober." I felt like I did in 2018, but with ten times the dosage. Moderation is key, I guess. Still finding that balance. There might be One Guy reading this who knows what I mean. The rest of you, don't read too much into it.

Coming home I had to rebuild my brain, and I barely had a couple weeks to get back on top of everything, with Chris scrambling to get the merch in order. The new bus from the new company came, and the guys and I had that "wow" moment all over; it was like a spaceship inside this one. Sliding doors, multiple TVs and sound systems, one half of the bus capable of extending out and doubling the apparent size of the room. A bed I could sleep in! A driver with proper equipment and both hands on the wheel! A satisfactory safety rating from the FMCSA! (You get what you pay for, for better and for worse.)

I wasn't ready. The bruises from the last run were still tender. Kindling was in effect. I had fallen off the nicotine wagon, and whenever I do that I usually land in a big pile of cheeseburgers.

I tried my best. Going for a jog in 90 degrees in DC left me with a splitting headache. Trying and failing to resist bumming hits off a crew member's vape or entire cigarettes. Noticing the protein bars in the green room and eating French fries instead. When the band would go off to play Magic: The Gathering with fans I would hide in a separate green room and read horror novels. Extra energy drinks. Addiction triggers were around every corner, and my brain was on fire. I still felt, through the smoke, that need to uplift and amplify so we could bring that energy to the stage, but my own energy was dwindling; and passion gave way to responsibility.

But despite all that, I still took the stage every night and found motivation to try to put on the best show of my life. We had practice now. We were a well-oiled machine and we were learning how to empower one another on stage. The audiences still felt it, and the show I had rehearsed was still impacting people in palpable ways. (Except for in Dallas, which was certainly one for the books... yikes!) But I was reaching deeper down for it now. I needed more than just raw energy, I needed something way down inside me to connect with. I found it, and I call him "One Guy." Yeah, I'm talking to you again.

In every audience, there is One Guy. One Guy who really, really gets it. I don't know who he is, what he looks like, or where in the room he's standing or sitting; and I never will. But even in rooms where I can't get a word in edgewise over a painful audience or I'm floundering to stay on top of things, there's at least One Guy. He's back there, quietly listening and resonating with the message of the project in exactly the way I intend it. Like me, he probably doesn't feel like he understands the rest of the crowd. Like me, he goes to an event or a party (god forbid a party) or a concert and can't help but feel along with the anxiety of not belonging a tinge of resentment for seeming to be the only person in the room who can't just have fun with a group of friends. The world has made him feel like he's missing something essential inside him. Maybe the world took it from him. Me and One Guy are very much alike, we would understand each other if we knew each other.

I look out at all those young people and I think about how when I was their age I could've used a "Will Wood." I would've been comforted to think that I might be the One Guy. We'll likely never meet, and if we do we won't know it, but One Guy is out there, and every audience probably has at least One Guy. I started dedicating my shows to One Guy, and all the discouraging parts of the process became irrelevant.

I'm nervous about this upcoming solo run. I don't have a "Slouching Towards Branson" style show written yet, and I might not by then. I might be workshopping for one. I might be doing something totally different. I have very little time, and the biggest audience I ever played for (Dallas) was impossible to perform for; which has me terrified about the upcoming huge audiences. I know a rock show is a different vibe, and people don't tend to act like they did there when in a theater, but I am terrified at the possibility that if I'm not as prepared as I was last year I'll completely lose it. I'm reaching out to you, One Guy. I'm going to give it my all, and I'm going to do it for you. I know you got me.

I am home now. Watched my friends in the band walk into the hotel before their flight so Chris and I could get a free deadhead bus ride halfway home and get a van for the next half. Hugged them and waved and said we'll "do the thing" again. And we will. I'm rebuilding my brain again, and I will be ready. Fit, balanced, deeply sober, and doing it all for One Guy. See you in Denver, One Guy.

Updates:

Tomorrow I resume work on Éalú. If you haven't heard about it, it's a stop motion point-and-click puzzle game by Beyond the Bark - animated by Ivan Owen (director/animator/builder for Tomcat Disposables) and programmed by Benjamin Orr. It's sort of a spiritual sequel to the Tomcat Disposables video. You're given the task of guiding a clockwork mouse out of a maze full of challenging brain-teasing puzzles safely and bringing him a happy ending. Whether it's the same mouse in an alternate reality or he survived the original somehow or it's the afterlife... or if it's a similar mouse in the same universe, or whatever - that's open to your interpretation. But the soundtrack I'm working on (my first time working without a band or an engineer) includes twists on familiar musical motifs and I've been enjoying thinking about it as the same mouse. It's made it so when writing the music for the end scene I got kinda emotional. I know, it's a video game. It's not even a big video game. But hey, maybe it'll be good. I'm really amazed by what the guys have built. You can wishlist it on steam now, and it'll be out October 2nd.

The next day, Jake Feldman and I begin our final crunch editing "Slouching Towards Branson: The Movie." It includes more shows than we originally expected to include, and it's allowed us to elevate the text and the humor in a way that I'm really excited by. The plan is to put out a sneak peak on Youtube, and then publish the full film to Patreon members exclusively; then make it available to non-members by selling it on Patreon as well. We NEED it to be out in time for the next tour. We're hoping people who have never been to a show will finally get a chance to see what one of my shows is like and stop walking into wineries and theaters expecting heavy metal Brandon Rogers in face paint doing crowd work. I think you'll really like the movie, One Guy.

All the while, I'll be thinking of you, One Guy. I'm gonna bring you something special in the theater.

Then we'll do some Halloweekend Shows nearby. Then the Caverns in Tennessee. Maybe move to Canada.

After that, I don't know, maybe I'll start working on a new album or something.

Much love,
-ww