Finding Silver Linings

by Lena Marie Schiffer

images by Chloe Nostrant & Ethan Confer

MARCH 7, 2020. A steady stream of people entered Pine Creek Lodge, braving winter roads and sparse parking along East River Road in Paradise Valley. The crowd grew louder as the beer was poured and the opening band played. By the time we stepped on stage, the small room was at full capacity; 100 people packed in like sardines, waiting for us to hit our first notes. We opened with our original song, “Two Days of Rain.” It’s fitting now that I look back on it: a song about how patience can get you through a time when everything is figuratively burning down.

In the following week, all the bookings on my once-full calendar were crossed out and replaced with the words “Cancelled - covid.” My band, Laney Lou and the Bird Dogs, is a full-time touring act that has worked tirelessly for seven years to move up the ladder in the Folk/Americana music scene. Our self-booked and self-managed schedule is planned and fine-tuned for at least six months prior to each event. 2020 was going to be our busiest summer yet— we were finally seeing our efforts pay off, landing spots on major festivals and supporting well-known touring acts. Then, in the blink of an eye, everything was gone. There was a resounding silence, like the breath had been knocked out of us. From divey barroom shows to sold-out stadium tours, live music as a whole went quiet. Grief, anger, and disbelief flooded the industry with the question “what now?”

The Bird Dogs started as a passion project in 2013, growing from pick-up gigs in bars to touring full time. I always knew to some extent that being a full-time musician was risky. Our livelihood is built entirely on trust: trust that the venue won’t cancel without cause, trust that we will be paid at the end of the night, and trust that people will buy enough tickets or merchandise to justify the gig. The venue trusts musicians to show up and hires sound engineers, light technicians, doormen, bartenders, and marketing teams. Emails are sent back and forth between booking agents, managers, and venues just to put a show on the calendar. Road miles are logged, ads are placed, bars are stocked, and several teams of people are relying on each other. But none of this is worthwhile or possible without an audience.

Ten months later, we are still asking, “What now?” If given the choice, my band and most other musicians would continue touring. A live performance is the current that flows between a band and their audience. The energy exchange at shows is indescribable; it is an affirmation of all of the work we’ve put into our songs. It only takes one good show to make you forget about the hardships of living in a van and surviving on gas station hot dogs. Now, we’ve been forced to adapt to a new way of connecting to our fans and our creativity.

Lena Marie Schiffer at Out of the Blue in Livingston, Montana

image by Chloe Nostrant

This year has been one long exercise in letting go. I have heard people refer to the pandemic as a ‘giant pause,’ but I find it more accurate to call it a ‘giant purge,’ a chance to get rid of that which doesn’t serve me. In April I moved into a new house, the perfect opportunity to throw out or donate excess belongings. But once the physical items were sorted through, I began digging deeper internally. I realized how much I needed a respite from touring. Our band had been burning the midnight oil for a few years, so a summer at home was a welcome opportunity to be still, to sleep in my own bed, and have time to think. It occurred to me that we had never paused to establish what we wanted and needed from each other to be successful in this business. It is easy to get distracted when we are touring, our days filled with miles of travel, sound checks, and late-night shows. As we move forward, we set the intention to check in with each other and the business on a regular basis, make goals and follow through with them, and zoom out on our progress as a whole.

I pride myself on being able to find the silver linings in difficult situations. Don’t get me wrong, I miss the backbone of my job, even if it was a wobbly one. I still experience waves of grief, missing the personal connections with fans and the spontaneity of life on the road. But the pandemic has afforded us the time to reconnect with each other and to reinvent ourselves as a band. It allowed us space to dream about where our musical style is headed and who we want to be creatively without the pressures of touring. Our energy has been funneled into writing songs for our fourth album, which we will record in February 2021. We enjoyed the fleeting Montana summer, spending time in our backyard mountain ranges. My favorite memory is fly fishing for cutthroat trout on Slough Creek in Yellowstone National Park over a two-day backpacking trip. Though this pandemic stopped us in our tracks, creating a roadblock to our momentum, our band has been anything but stagnant. We redirected our energy in ways we didn’t necessarily realize we needed.

Laney Lou & The Bird Dogs at The Filling Station in Bozeman, Montana

image by Ethan Confer

And maybe the live music industry needed redirection too. Within the void, venues have scrambled to put together live streaming and smaller in-person concerts that adhere to social distancing guidelines. As a musician and an audience member, I have experienced some of the most intimate, meaningful shows I have ever been to or been a part of. The Bird Dogs returned to Pine Creek Lodge to play this August, and in the first fifteen minutes, I was hit by the biggest wave of adrenaline I have ever felt on stage, fueled by the energy of an audience who had been craving live music for months. Just weeks earlier, again at Pine Creek Lodge, my partner Ryan Acker played an opening set for the lead singer and songwriter of Trampled by Turtles, Dave Simonett. The pandemic landed Simonett at a small Montana venue, playing solo to a crowd that sat quiet for a full two hours, soaking up every word and note he played. The audience and musicians shared a unique bond, and I recognized how much we needed to experience the deep internal feeling that music provides. Ryan and I had the chance to hang out with Dave after the show, and that evening it felt like I was precisely where I needed to be. Trampled by Turtles has inspired the Bird Dogs since the very beginning, and it was surreal to have one of my heroes in such close proximity. There is a renewed appreciation for live performance, and I hope it continues to the other side.

Some days it’s hard to listen for silver linings, but I truly believe there will be a renaissance for artists once we are able to safely emerge from our introspective year. We have transformed little by little in our creative cocoons, and we will be stronger and more insightful and appreciative than ever. A light has shone on vulnerabilities in the industry, but it has also made us realize what an incredible network of people it takes to create live performances, audiences included. Amidst the grief and hardship this pandemic has brought millions of people, I hold out hope that this is a new beginning for us all. An opportunity to let go of the old and embrace the new and unfolding path ahead.

LANEY LOU AND THE BIRD DOGS

vinyls, cds, merch, and preorders are available for purchase at thebird-dogs.com

follow the band on instagram & facebook @ laneylouandthebirddogs | listen & follow on spotify

image by Ethan Confer