Shinybass Journal Entry 10/14

It’s been a year…

One year ago I made the decision to stay home. Let’s talk about that sentence for a brief moment. I made the decision to stay in one place, namely my home, which is the same place where my family resides and most of my belongings are piled in the garage. 

 Most of you live in your home full-time, sans the occasional run to 30A or Yellowstone. My home was a part-time residence, and the other half was spent on a 40-foot smoke-spewing bus with very little privacy, non-potable water, and all the soft drinks one could handle. Sadly, I don’t drink soft drinks. 

‘What’s the bus like?’ was the one of the top questions I would get. It’s not a cut-and-dried answer. In what way? Comfort – about a 6. Sleep quality – 6. Convenience – 9. ‘Does it smell?’ Yes, sometimes. I mean, there’s a communal outhouse right in the middle of the lounge. It’s going to smell. Occasionally someone brings a clamshell of leftover salmon (the food, not the band) and forgets about it. It’s going to smell. ’It is fun?’ Again, a lot of layers there. For the partying type, yes. It’s like summer camp on wheels. For others, it’s simply a sleeping location on wheels, utilitarian in nature. 

The low scores on the bus aren’t a reflection on the bus itself. The bus was built and designed for a purpose, and the physical bus can only be what it is. The bus is much more comfortable with less people, but busses are built to hold 12. Think about that. 12 people in a metal tube rolling down the highway. You had better all be courteous, respectful, and kind. If any of these three attributes are not present, then the bus gets dirty, hard to sleep on, and generally not fun. 

When talking to a potential touring situation, the inevitable question comes up: “How’s the bus?” That doesn’t mean the physical four wheels, engine, and pine tree air freshener. It refers to the vibe inside. The vibe on the bus is created by the people in ‘said’ bus, and a vibe can take on many different forms. What’s a ‘typical’ bus like? Summer camp on wheels is the best metaphor I can come up with, to be honest. Without going into details, I think the best vibe is a professional vibe; a chill yet upbeat vibe. The 80s are over. No need to try and be the rock stars we aren’t. I tried. It didn’t work. 

For me the hardest part of the bus was that it actually had to leave home base. I spent endless hours in the jump seat or my bunk looking for a way to feel better about leaving long term. My absolute saving grace was when an electric bike showed its face. The bike gave me a way to break from the mall parking lot on a day off and the bike let me sneak away for a few hours and actually see the town. You can’t find architecture and history unless you dive deep into the neighborhoods and small roads where the bus can’t go. This proved to be my vibe. 

When you are on a bus and missing home, you are no fun either. You can try to screw on a smile, but it’s hard. So you suffer through, and try and your head goes into a deep dive trying to separate church and stage – show business vs. show friends – and try to do the right thing. Eventually you have to figure out a way to do the right thing for yourself. 

I toured in 4 different decades. That’s a long time. My body and mind were ready to stop being in motion full time. If you are thinking that you want to stop the carnival, take note: there will be a cool down or sunset or transitional period for you to get acclimated to your new house. Yes, it will be your new house. Your spouse is used to having his or her space for a couple of days, and now you are in it full time. Just like the bus you were just on, one must be courteous, respectful, and kind. It’s sort of like that COVD stress we all experienced when we had to stay in, but now it’s all the time. 

Don’t let me scare you back on the bus. It’s worth staying home if that’s what you want. Would I get back on the bus again. Yes. If the situation were right, I would. I just have to be more careful as to what bus and for how long. I really, really like being a present Dad. Not one that gives presents, just the one who is present. These years won’t be back. If I miss one soccer match, I’m miserable. If it’s important my sons, it’s important to me. 

Now the dirty question – ‘Hey Steve, what are you doing for work?’ Honestly, the only thing that has changed is the full time touring. I had a lot of side gigs always going on when I was out, and now those have moved to the front. I play locally, I take the occasional out of town gig, I am making records, bass presets, producing video content, and writing books. Yeah, I’m tackling the world, one project at a time. How do I do it? Coffee. Lots of coffee. 

Our house has always been set up for two people to contribute, as I’m sure yours is as well. My wife is an amazing realtor (if you want to relocate to Nashville or get the hell out, let me know and I’ll connect you…), so that helps. All good rock stars have a spouse with a ‘real job’ supporting their deranged adolescent musical fantasies. And I still have those fantasies. I certainly don’t want to be famous. I certainly don’t want to be rich. I just want to be happy. 

And that’s the key to it all, right? Being happy. Living in the moment, realizing that this time on Earth is finite, and life is long, until one day it is not. My moments on stage are far from over. I just want to do it on my terms and not someone else’s. Selfish? A little. I’m ok with that. 

See you on the road?