vol. 33: on touring & the pursuit of fun
an opera singer’s touring experiences
Shanghai Pudong International Airport, Oct. 21st, 2024, 13:26
Sitting at my gate, slightly hungover from the two Tsingtao beers my tour-mates and I inhaled late after our show last night (drama of tracking down a missing phone in a Yiwu taxi not included). Feeling such relief to be heading home, even when my place of residence isn’t where my heart is, which is currently split in different cities across Canada.
On my two-week tour of China, I made it to nine cities, travelled on seven planes, countless trains, subways, cabs, stayed in nine hotels, performed in eight theatres… My bf—who teaches a jazz history course and frequently tours with various bands and groups—pointed out to me that Louis Armstrong apparently toured 300 days a year for about 30 years. While I’m assuming a lot of Armstrong’s touring was in the US, those stats are pretty staggering.
I still find it unbelievable how exhausting the musician’s life can be. The slog to get the gigs, and then when you get them, boy are they tough! Of course they’re full of joy and adventure and magic, but the challenges of maintaining relationships, health, and some semblance of mental/physical stability is not easy. The initial excitement of trying new cuisines and immersing oneself in new cultures eventually wears thin and one longs for the creature comforts of a home-cooked meal or one’s own bed. Group dynamics can be tricky as different members negotiate their own fluctuating health and well-being (I for one spent a few days of this tour fighting off a flu, terrible cramps, and sleeping every spare moment I could in my hotel room). The intimacy of sharing space can also amplify character and value clashes.
While this trip to China was my first international tour as a soloist, I’m no stranger to touring. When I finished my Master’s degree, I got a gig as artist-in-residence with an opera company in Ohio which included a few good months of touring. At 24, I barely knew enough about myself to negotiate my own well-being as a young Canadian thrust into the wilds of the American Midwest, much less on a grueling tour. (It’s probably no surprise that I moved home to Toronto soon after completing that contract, despite offers to work for a similar company in Indiana the following season.) At 29, I threw my hat back into the opera touring scene, embarking on an epic 120-show tour of a Canadian children’s opera in British Columbia (mercifully cut short by the Covid-19 pandemic).
Most musicians/performers will tell you they don’t tour for the money (perhaps TSwift excluded). But in many ways, we are fortunate. On my BC tour, my newly-made forever friend and I spent early mornings running around Vancouver Island and crafting on ferries to out-of-this-world-stunning Gulf Islands. In Ohio, my colleagues and I would hang in old-school midwestern Whisky bars and I’d devour audiobooks while knitting in the back of our tour van.
And this trip to China? While I may not have wanted the multi-course breakfasts of Chinese food (or Chinese food in general…) after the 7th or 8th day, I’ll never forget our stunning train rides through subtropical mountain ranges, visits to Confucius’ temple, experiences watching noodles be strung on street corners, trying to learn Mandarin with my new friends, and unintentionally laughing our heads off in the middle of an encore while pretending to be two cats…
A wise mentor once told me, make sure you’re having fun as a musician, because it’s too hard a career if you’re not. So on that note, wishing you all FUN with your music/whatever your art may be. :)
Time to go home. 🇨🇦
