You Should Keep Showing Up

A friend of mine sent me a newspaper article about a guitar tech who was working on major artists’ tours for many decades making a nice income, and was now struggling to pay his mortgage.

The article wasn’t news to me. It pointed out that globally, some 18 million music industry people are out of jobs. But there was a quote I couldn’t take off of my mind all week:

“The music industry, we’re not just out of work. We’re washed off the face of the planet at this point.”

Musicians are resilient, I thought. We’ve driven through bad storms a hundred times. We had been told that the show must go on when we first signed up for the job, and we imprinted it into our minds and our hearts.

And this isn’t just musicians themselves, but also those setting up the stage, running the sound or the lights, ushering people to their seats, checking tickets, driving tour buses, or running the administrative and legal side of business.

So when the show stops, what happens? What goes on then?

We keep creating music.

The show becomes us. WE must go on and come up with other solutions, be creative, sing from the balconies, our porches, or in front of our computers’ tiny camera lenses streaming to all kinds of old and new platforms. We simply don’t let ourselves “be washed off of the face of the planet.”

The same day I read the article, I drove up to Nashville for some meetings, and stopped by a restaurant that was giving out gourmet meals to the music professionals – organized by the Country Music Association and Touring Professionals Alliance. I spoke to a guy who was a sound engineer for tours. He volunteers as much as he can, because being of service keeps him feel less isolated and helps him stay hopeful.

We are resilient. We’ll get through it by taking care of each other and we won’t quit.

A friend of mine sent me a newspaper article about a guitar tech who was working on major artists’ tours for many decades making a nice income, and was now struggling to pay his mortgage.

The article wasn’t news to me. It pointed out that globally, some 18 million music industry people are out of jobs. But there was a quote I couldn’t take off of my mind all week:

“The music industry, we’re not just out of work. We’re washed off the face of the planet at this point.”

Musicians are resilient, I thought. We’ve driven through bad storms a hundred times. We had been told that the show must go on when we first signed up for the job, and we imprinted it into our minds and our hearts.

And this isn’t just musicians themselves, but also those setting up the stage, running the sound or the lights, ushering people to their seats, checking tickets, driving tour buses, or running the administrative and legal side of business.

So when the show stops, what happens? What goes on then?

We keep creating music.

The show becomes us. WE must go on and come up with other solutions, be creative, sing from the balconies, our porches, or in front of our computers’ tiny camera lenses streaming to all kinds of old and new platforms. We simply don’t let ourselves “be washed off of the face of the planet.”

The same day I read the article, I drove up to Nashville for some meetings, and stopped by a restaurant that was giving out gourmet meals to the music professionals – organized by the Country Music Association and Touring Professionals Alliance. I spoke to a guy who was a sound engineer for tours. He volunteers as much as he can, because being of service keeps him feel less isolated and helps him stay hopeful.

We are resilient. We’ll get through it by taking care of each other and we won’t quit.

When I came back home that evening, I touched up my makeup and performed a live streaming concert. I wasn’t wearing shoes, at one point I left my place in front of the camera to make some Peppermint tea, and at the end of each song, I clapped for David and me and connected with the audience by reading their comments out loud. I looked straight into the camera to respond and thank them for being there. We are resilient.

The show is going on.

When my concert was over, I sat in my comfortable chair with my dog snuggled next to me, and I looked around my music room. It was filled with sound equipment and lights and stuff that would have, in normal times, been already packed in cases and loaded up in the back of my car. I’d be driving off into the night to my next gig (without a dog LOL).

So you see, the show itself isn’t the show that must go on. The show is us. We keep showing up and we keep going through thick and thin. We go through all the changes and transformations that are thrown at us – changes that we resist but that are an inevitable part of our lives.

Dwelling in sadness that we lost the gigs, being angry and caught up in the blame game, wasting energy on wishing things were different only makes us get stuck in a bad place. It stifles our creativity to do something constructive.

On the other hand, when we can feel the sadness, honor the grief for what we lost, and then we let it pass, we are able to move forward…

We take a breath, give ourselves a bit of time and space to find new solutions and possibilities, and then make the next best action. We create new ways – a new stage for our show 🙂 Yes, it takes patience, trust, compassion, and gentleness with ourselves. But when we work together, or at least when we know we are not alone, the process becomes easier.

The stress and the pressure lift off, opening up the space for our creativity, love, and grace to build and heal. And we practice resilience and become even more resilient. 🙂

Of course, this is not specific to musicians and touring crews. I’m sure you have gone through a change yourself this past year and figured out how to make your own life’s “show” go on.

Can you reflect on that this week?

What is your first reaction to a big change?

How do you get unstuck from the disappointment and resistance to change?

How does it feel to be on the other side of something challenging?