Caitlin Park On Rushing, Crashing, Sleeping, And The Half-Conscious Daze Of A Tour

Caitlin Mcgregor is Caitlin Park, whose new album, The Sleeper, has just been released.

Here, she reflects on her last single tour for ‘Hold Your Gaze’.

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Insomnia

You scurry about with urgency a half-hour before your lift to the airport arrives. You’ve laid your gear out on your bed; ticking off your equipment list has to be a visual thing – sample pad, loop pedal, tuner, microphone, leads, strings, capo… something is missing… aaaand, guitar. It’s raining outside, which means the inevitable lateness of band members carrying gear by foot. A text appears on your phone. “Come past mine and pick me up instead, this rain is savage”. Roger that.

Clothing. You are going to wear the same thing at the show as you are wearing on the plane — you know that, your band knows that — and yet you still pack three outfits for one night. None of these outfits includes a jumper for warmth, and you’ll also forget your phone charger. Don’t worry about it — you’ve remembered to pack your temporary tattoos for the merch desk, and you’ve remembered to pack your toothbrush.

At the latest of moments, and after a couple of back-up plans fall through, you contact your friend Zoe and ask if you and your band can please, please stay with her for the night. Zoe plays in a Brisbane-based band; you two met very briefly at The Great Escape Festival in the UK last year, and have (luckily) stayed friends on Facebook. (Later that evening, after the show, you’ll both laugh loudly as you realise you only hung out for less than three hours, and — thanks to some heavy drinking — neither of you can remember the third. Turns out you don’t really know each other at all.)

She accepts your request for accommodation with open arms; she plays in a band, so she knows the dealio-yo. “We have a couch, a blow-up mattress and my housemate will sleep at her boyfriend’s house, so you can share her bed.”

Thank you.

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Trance

You’re on the plane, content and relaxed. Knowing you have a bed to sleep in after the show, you’re almost smug.

So content, in fact, you fall asleep instead of doing work on your laptop like you intended. It’s a heavy sleep, soundtracked by Steve Reich’s Music For 18 Musicians. Your chin drops to your chest as your head bobs down and up, and your neck loses the strength it holds in consciousness. You’re drooling on your neighbour’s shoulder.

It’s also raining in Brisbane. You carry your gear, including a whole drum kit, up five flights of stairs on the outside of the venue. Black Bear Lodge is quiet and tucked away in amongst the hurly-burly smut of the Valley.

Rohin Jones plays a 40-minute set of dreamlike guitar and operatic vocals; he captures his listeners in a trance. You ask the bartender for some coffee. He looks at you strangely – it’s reserved for Espresso Martinis, “its not real coffee”. But anything with caffeine will suffice.

You summon energy for your set, drink some whiskey on stage. You’re chatting to the audience now. Afterwards, you climb down to sell some tattoos – temporary body modification for your loved ones.

It’s almost bed time, and you watch your friends eyes start to grow heavy as they lower their heads into their beers. Your friend Ed talks about drinking Cava and offering Valium for a midnight snack, but no one needs assistance.

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Awakening

Going on tour to play music around Australia can be a wonderful experience. You meet new people, hear incredible music, form stronger bonds with your friends, eat bad food from New York Slice, watch your friends slip over in the rain, laugh out loud a lot (and in person), appear on ABC radio and meet the Bananas in Pajamas (highlight); you play songs that you’ve written about experiences like these. Despite the costs, you’re reminded that you make money in a café to spend it on the things you want to do. This is what you want to do.

You wake up in a borrowed bed and remember that much of this is only possible thanks to the kindness of strangers. A growing address book of open-armed assistance.

Friends of mine that play music know this story all too well. And I will do the same for them next time around.

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Caitlin Park’s second album, The Sleeper, is out today.