Local Natives: Touring Rhymes With...
For the next couple of weeks, Local Natives' bassist Andy Hamm will be blogging for us as the band makes their way across the country and then departs for Europe.
From the stage at FYF Fest a few weeks ago in L.A.
-verb (used with object)
The act or 'life adjustment process' of spending most of your young adult life living/eating/breathing inside a 16-passenger Ford E-350 Econoline Van and/or Mercedes 7 passenger Sprinter Van (trailer optional).
Touring with four of your best friends is something we asked for. In fact, we begged for it, dreamt about it and worked our asses off for it. I've always believed that to truly realize and soak up something that's special, you have to dive head into it. We have spent the last year (minus a few weeks) on the road. Playing 12 tracks from our first album as a band in places I never thought I'd end up this soon.
The beast of mixing work, with travel, with what you love hasn't been as breezy as I imagined it always would be...and that has to be a great thing. A constant reminder of how much further we have to go as a new band along with how lucky I should feel to be where we are currently at. This Friday is the first show of our biggest tour to date. I am currently busier now with more things I care about than I ever have been. College blue-books have been replaced by trying to learn exactly what a Moog Murf pedal can do for my bass tone. Being uncomfortable is comfortable for me...and that doesn't need to make sense to anyone but myself.
They just don't make neck pillows like they used to.
The sensation of my initial head first dive has come and gone in blink of a few months. I am now in the midst of trying to clinch my knees mid-air as my body attempts the perfect cannon-ball off the high-dive. We asked for it and we got it....now what do I do with it?
There's a chance I'll hit my tail bone on the aqua-green concrete at the bottom of the pool. Right in that spot that makes it a joke to all your friends as they watch you try and sit down on a bar stool. Or perhaps, just maybe I'll hit that shit just right. I imagine a tidal wave of chlorine being shoved under the eyelids of everyone within 20 feet of the impact. The lifeguard will blow his whistle and yell muffled gibberish from his oversized cone. Mothers will be frantically looking around for their children, and I'll be wrapped in a damp towel that I got from the zoo, laughing...just laughing.