An interviewer recently asked me a simple question: "Why are you touring?"

I gave a short answer, but really, there are plenty of reasons an artist might decide to go out on the road and perform concerts night after night.

Dan Haseltine

Dan Haseltine

It might be simply a matter of economics. At a point in history where people are not buying enough music to allow artists the sole vocation of creating music, concerts are certainly a factor. People can support an artist by purchasing a concert ticket and maybe a T-shirt at a show. This gives confidence to promoters who have to wonder if the gamble they make on an artist is a good one or not. If fans don't show up for concerts, artists will take their nomadic circuses elsewhere, since promoters don't usually gamble on the same act more than once.

Then there is the record cycle. This is the space usually three months before a record releases, and six months to a year after its release. Artists tour and perform specific songs to promote the new albums, bolstering sales and awareness—all while solidifying a brand with images and a performance aesthetic that helps define who the artist is and wants to be.

Some artists tour because they are in demand. The tour is more of a response to a cultural awareness or exposure that placed them in the public conscience for a given moment—i.e., striking while the iron is hot. Others tour to build the necessary army of fans who push the artist into the public conscience.

Other artists tour with a transactional mindset—to capitalize on their success, ride the wave and suck as much life as possible out of their fifteen seconds of fame. It's akin to a professional athlete who knows they only have a few solid years of wear and tear on their bodies, so they push for the greatest amounts of money, sponsorships, and endorsements as quickly as possible. And who could blame them? Artists don't get much of an opportunity for longevity, and many new artists don't really want it anyway.

And then there are artists who feel they need the attention and applause. Their hunger for the spotlight is the central tributary that feeds their significance, and without the attention, they wither.

Finally, some artists love performing because they consider their music to be a gift, rather than a means to get. I have watched artists sing to people believing that the song is meant for a specific purpose in that place and time—to heal a wound, to meet a need, to provide a gift to a single person.

Article continues below

'A disinterested love'

Music is for giving away. It is a form of "disinterested love," a term I borrow from Thomas Merton. It means a love that has no interest at stake. It is love without an end. Artists who carry this kind of belief find their music to be purposeful and their touring to be missional in some form or fashion.

I believe that most artists navigate touring with a cocktail of all of the above motivations.

As we recently began a new tour, I've had to again ask myself, "Why?"

Jars of Clay

Jars of Clay

We don't have a record to promote; we are at least nine months from releasing a new album. We don't have a current surge of awareness in the cultural conscience. We are not a new band in search of a growing army to push us into the spotlight.

I am touring because I want to remember what it is like to love music, love the people who sing along, and love the communities where our music is born.

Jars of Clay turned 18 years old in 2012. We are touring in clubs and small theaters because we realized that it matters that we play music in places where people go to experience live music because they love music.

We aren't playing as part of a large music festival with 100 other bands plopped down in front of a large radio banner for a station we probably haven't ever had the chance to listen to. We aren't playing in places where we are co-opted into someone else's agenda. We aren't making music as a means to some other end like an altar call, or a statement of relevance for some organization or project we don't believe in. We aren't using music as a tool or a means to manipulate people into some spiritual or emotional experience they didn't sign up for. And we aren't playing in places where we have to apologize for the abundance of ferns and pipe organ spires or pastel colored banners that all fight against our ability to offer the best musical experience we can.

It has been years since I have been able to write those statements.

Silencing the voices

There are so many voices adding to the noise of who a band is, and why they do what they do. Those voices are loud, and in the various moments of imbalance—where we wonder how much of what we do is supply and demand, how much is inspiration, and how much is rebellion—those voices can be a siren leading us to our doom.

We have followed voices like those. Those voices will lead only to mediocrity. Those voices—the ones that push an artist to create so deeply within the confines of a "market" or focused group—will dissolve the artist's confidence, and ultimately turn artists into manufacturers, driven by someone else's ideas or motivations. Such voices chip away at honest creativity.

Article continues below

One day, I woke up and realized I was not satisfied with the reasons I was making music anymore. I was not happy with my motivations for touring. Even though I loved our audience, I resented the performances where expectations on the band—to be more charismatic, or worshipful, or religious, or safe (especially when I knew we weren't making music in order to deliver such things)—left me wondering if I had disappointed nearly everyone at the show.

Jars began as a band for what we call "the middle space." We did not want to be a Christian band. We did not want to be a mainstream band. We wanted to live in the tension of both worlds. We were comfortable with the tension of that middle space.

We loved the conversations and debates it would stir. We felt like we were right where we needed to be. We fought and elbowed our way to keep ourselves in that tension. We've written songs for R-rated movies and for church music albums. We've played for Billy Graham festivals and for modern rock radio station festivals.

We like the middle space. It is a place where real conversations about doubt, struggle, faith, love, joy, and pain exist in their most genuine and uncensored forms. We love that the middle space has room for the drug addict and the preacher. It is a table big enough for those who love God, and those who don't care about God.

Jars of Clay is now touring in the middle space, and we will from now on. We will make music for the middle space. We are coming to your cities to play music, tell stories, and enjoy the gift of music and friendship with you as less of a reinvention, but as more of a restoration of what we care about as a band. We hope you will come out and see the show, have a beer, and consider the depths of love and faith.

Adapted from a recent post on Haseltine's blog. For Jars of Clay tour dates, click here.

Tags:
Posted: