Our Band Found a Way to Tour During the Pandemic
Up until September, it had been ten years since I’d gone six months without playing live music.
Back then, I (Tim) was a senior in college, eating in dining halls and occasionally studying. My bandmate Paul, two years older, worked 60-hour weeks at an environmental non-profit. We got through our similarly grueling days by making a promise to each other that we’d soon make a legendary album and ascend the ranks of rock-and-roll stardom to such great — excuse me — Tall Heights.
That’s our band name, by the way, and I’m glad we were so young, hopeful, and stupid. What began as five scorching summers of busking in Boston’s Faneuil Hall Marketplace led to millions of people hearing our music, our parents seeing us on late-night TV, becoming bandmates with Ben Folds, and performing for audiences across the globe.
We were on tour in March when everything ground to a halt. We felt like Lando Calrissian escaping the exploding Death Star, reaching home unharmed, healthy, and only having to cancel four shows (sorry New York, DC, Montreal, and Toronto). Paul and I were living together in The Tall House too, which meant we could spend our quarantine writing and recording. Lucky as we were, we felt a growing anxiety as we all confronted a world without live music. We started hosting a weekly live stream called Tall Heights Thursday that went on for twenty-two weeks straight. Fans graciously tuned in and dropped cash in our digital tip buckets on Venmo and Paypal. It was like street performing all over again, without the bucket drummers.
But questions continued to nag us; what is the future of our industry? When will we get back on the road? How will we make a living? We saw bands doing drive-in shows, but those gigs only seemed to work for bands with bigger followings.
Then one day, our manager brought up a crazy idea: “what about a backyard tour?”
If we were going to tour during a pandemic, we wanted to be a success story, not a Chainsmokers-style cautionary tale.
After five months of inviting fans into our living room, it was time to go to them. The backyard felt like the next best place to take our fight against a music-less existence. But would anyone let two musicians and thirty strangers into their backyard? Would it be safe? If we were going to tour during a pandemic, it had to be a success story. It could not be a Chainsmokers-style cautionary tale.
Twenty-four hours after nervously asking for hosts around New England, we didn’t just have options in the Northeast. We had options across the whole country.
Prospective hosts completed a questionnaire that told us about them, their yard, and if they wanted to host a public show or a private show. Anyone could buy a ticket to a public shows. Hosts decided who could attend a private show. Once the submissions were in, we studied the backyard specs, plotted driving distances, looked up local COVID regulations, and spoke with each host on the phone.
After five months of inviting fans into our living room, it was time to go to them.
In addition to confirming nine backyard shows, we heard from two venues with intimate outdoor spaces and booked those too. The final step was to put the tickets on sale. Much to our relief, the shows sold out in a couple of days!
Fans who bought tickets to a public show knew when it was happening and approximately where, but didn’t get the exact address until 72 hours before the show. They were required to wear masks, stay socially distant and seated during the event, and they couldn’t bring food or use the host bathrooms. For safety’s sake, we were strict about the rules.
Much to our relief, the shows sold out in a couple of days! We made $11,000 from ticket sales and $6,500 from merchandise.
We charged private show hosts a flat fee and sold individual tickets for the public concerts on Limited Run. Limited Run allowed us to set a minimum price for each ticket, but let fans pay more if they wanted to. We put the tickets on sale for $25 but ended up receiving around $28 per ticket.
We made $11,000 from ticket sales and $6,500 from merchandise. Making that much money in the middle of a pandemic was game-changing, not only for our short term financial security but because we now know there’s a path forward.
It’s hard to describe how meaningful these shows were for us. No openers, no crew, just Paul, myself and our van “The Spirit of Beverly.” Wake up, drive to the next show, load everything in, set it all up, run sound, sell the merch, pack everything up, and go home. Unlike a normal tour, we didn’t hug anyone, shake hands or take selfies, but we felt a sense of connection and healing that we hadn’t in months. It seemed nourishing for everyone there, and we’re proud of ourselves and our fans for pulling it off.
There’s a lot of uncertainty in the world right now, but here’s one thing we’re sure of: the Tall Heights Backyard Tour will be going all over the country next year. If you’re a fan, we hope you’ll join us or consider hosting a show. If you’re in a band, we encourage you to book your own outdoor tour.
Join us as we fight to keep live music going (safely) through a global pandemic.
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