New Noise Magazine reached out to a diverse group of artists and asked them to speak about their personal experiences with dealing with their overall wellness. The topic of being in good physical and mental is an exclusive spotlight coinciding with Issue #32 of the print magazine, deemed The Wellness Issue. Each artist speaks with a refreshing transparency on the struggles they face and how to better go about their own health.
Featuring vocalist/guitarist Josh Scogin of’68
Atlanta rock duo, ‘68—fronted by vocalist and guitarist Josh Scogin of The Chariot; A Rose, By Any Other Name; and formerly of Norma Jean—released their second album, Two Parts Viper, on June 2 via Cooking Vinyl America. The album embraces themes of balance, wellness, and personal evolution.
Wellness is ever-evolving, both in the definition and in the ability to maintain it—or attempt to maintain it. Ten years ago, I would have defined wellness much differently than today.
Mentally, I go through extreme peaks and extreme valleys, feasts and famines. I think of it like a pendulum. There are times in my past where I would really try to avoid depression and the deeper parts of the valley, because it surely seemed like that is what I was supposed to do. Society always made me feel like I should just be like, “Get up, get over it, and get to work!” And honestly, from time to time, I still have to just do that, because life keeps moving on and time doesn’t really care how you feel—it will just keep ticking away regardless.
However, when I am able to, I have found that if I just let the pendulum swing and don’t mess with it, don’t try to hinder it, it seems to be able to gather much more momentum, and within a few days, once the swing is back in my favor, I find that the peak is much higher and lasts much longer. In other words, if I am able to just let nature take her course and enjoy the deepness of the valley and don’t force it out, then in a few days, I always find myself being super inspired and, mentally, I can take on the world! That is when I just create as much as I can and have fun with it.
Now, I can’t speak for everyone—I am not a therapist, [and] for all I know this is terrible advice—but at least for me, it seems to work out. I don’t have to fear depression, I can just sort of ride it out with a knowledge that inspiration is coming.
Featuring Christian Lembach of Whores.
Atlanta, Georgia’s Whores. were on the road nonstop through August in support of their latest album, Gold., released in October 2016 via eOne Music. The trio—comprised of vocalist and guitarist Christina Lembach, bassist Casey Maxwell, and drummer Donnie Adkinson—have grown fast in the past few years, with their loud, sludgy noise-rock landing on many a best-of list. Most recently, they contributed a track entitled “Flag Day” to Amphetamine Reptile’s Bash 17 compilation, released on Aug. 6, and played the label’s 25th anniversary show alongside Melvins, Boss Hog, Hammerhead, and more on Aug. 28.
Travel Bag Necessities and Good Touring Habits
I have a routine at this point as far as packing. I have two bags: my suitcase and my backpack. My suitcase has all my clean clothes in it, and my backpack has all of my personal stuff: ID, toiletries, computer, etc. Every day, I put a fresh t-shirt and fresh drawers and socks in my bag and put my dirty laundry in a mesh bag that lives in the trailer.
You would not believe what being clean does for morale. I refuse to be one of those gnarly road-dog dudes who cherish smelling bad. At the end of the night, when we are heading to wherever we are staying, I just grab my backpack and I’m ready to go. I’ve got it down!
There are times when taking a shower isn’t possible, so I make sure to take advantage of a clean shower at every opportunity.
It’s also important to drink tons of water, get as much rest as possible, and eat as many fruit and vegetables as you can stand.
Stretch. Let me say that again: stretch. Do it.
It doesn’t hurt to pack Emergen-C and day/night cold medicine for when the inevitable tour dysentery kicks in—and it will.
Always say “please” and “thank you,” regulate only when necessary, and roll with the punches.
Remember people’s names. Make an effort, because it matters.
Lastly, the touring group’s needs should always come before your own needs, so try not to be a baby.
Featuring drummer Rob Rufus of The Bad Signs
Nashville’s The Bad Signs are the latest band from twins Rob and Nat Rufus, along with Samantha Harlow on lead vocals. While taking some downtime from Blacklist Royals, guitarist Nat was inspired by a vintage photograph to start a new band who are a throwback tribute to ‘60s American fringe culture. Their EP, Black Magic Moments—recently released on Number Nine Creative Cult—features some creepy backmasking perfect for conjuring the spirits of beatniks, bikers, and anyone else your mama warned you about.
A band often feels like a family—and much like a family, there are one to two members, usually the founders, who contribute more than the rest of the group. These are the bandleaders: they write the songs, book the shows, front the money, and grease the wheels that keep things chugging along.
My brother Nat and I have shared this gig for 10 years in Blacklist Royals. We’ve been through it all, from self-releasing records to major label deals, from booking basement shows to playing all over the world. We’ve lost managers, agents, labels, members, and our sanity.
But in our new band, The Bad Signs, we’ve had the chance to learn from those experiences. We’ve developed mantras to stay centered when the pressure is on. Bandleaders will always have a tough gig, but I hope these little reminders help you hold on a little longer and try a little harder.
Through Christ, All Things Are Possible
Now, substitute the word “Christ” for some shit you actually believe in. What inspired you to start a band in the first place? What drove you through those demoralizing first steps? Recognize whatever it was and hold onto it for dear life. Because as your band progresses, your sense of purpose will get as muddy as a Line 6 guitar amp.
But always remember—regardless of job title, bro tattoo, or commission rate—this is a job to the others involved. It’s a vacation. But this is your life—your art, your statement—and as long as you remember your core inspiration, you’ll treat it as such.
Say Fuck It, And Mean It
“Should we do this tour? Is my manager right? Should we kick this member out? Should we sign this contract?”
Making decisions sucks, but regret sucks worse. So, call your shots and say, “Fuck it,” regardless of the outcome. Take everyone else’s input with a grain of salt. Focus on making choices that line up with your vision, and own them. Say “fuck it,” and mean it. You’ll find that being decisive is less stressful than being on the fence.
Victory Lap, Baby!
Bands share in success equally. A loss, however, can be a different story. It takes a village to make a hit record, but it takes a bandleader to make a flop—and your village will always make sure that you know it.
So, when the rare win comes along, enjoy it! Be proud of yourself, even if no one else is. Be present in your own achievements, no matter how small. Maybe a crowd sang some lyrics that you wrote. Maybe you saw someone wearing a t-shirt you designed. Whatever it is, take time to smell those fleeting roses of success.
Remember that everyone wants to create a legacy, to make some proof of their time on earth. You’ve already done that with your art! Others might take credit, take percentages, or take advantage—but they’ll never take that away from you.
Featuring Rodo Ibarra of Silent
Rodo Ibarra is a busy human. The bassist splits his time between the Mexicali noise punks of Silent, the “post-lazer-punk” of Maniqui Lazer, the musical sect Rancho Shampoo, and several other eclectic projects. Silent’s debut full-length, A Century of Abuse, was released in October 2016 via San Diego-based label, Three One G.
How To Stay Mad in a World Prone To Sanity—Or, Wait, Is It the Other Way Around?
The first thing that pops into my mind is how life would be without art. I frankly cannot imagine at least my life without creativity of some kind, not only going through a creative process, but also witnessing the outcome of someone else’s ideas. Where would all my thoughts go? Would they get trapped inside my mind until they are forced to come out in a violent act, or would they just dissipate until I become numb and unaffected?
Ideas like these come to me frequently, and I can’t help but think of how lucky I am to even go through this mental process. I cannot imagine the beginning of it all without creativity, without improvisation, basic elements also found within the arts.
Silence, for me, is what helps me cleanse my mind. Your mind races with ideas, thoughts, regrets, and/or possibilities bouncing around with no direction. Most of the time, it is difficult to set them aside, so what I do is just let them flow until ease of mind comes. Once you reach that point, believe me, it is quite gratifying. I start by blocking out all the sounds that surround me by singling out each sound. Where does it come from? What is its source? Why does it sound that way? Why does it last that long? Tiny exercises that keep me sane and, at the same time, help me capture the madness around.
On the road, I usually take a hand recorder and go on 10 to 15 minute walks to capture the sounds of the city or place I’m in at the moment and, later, upload the unprocessed track to SoundCloud for later reference. This is refreshing after hours on the road sitting down or driving. I have noticed that this isolation process helps me deal better with my friends on tour and, at the same time, gives me a broader perspective of the place and surroundings.
On the other hand, performing live is what keeps me going on. Every show is its own entity. They will take you to different states of mind. Not knowing where the show will go, how the audience will behave, or the energy you will get from the crowd gives me a certain rush I have only experience before a show. Even if you rehearse the songs over and over again, there is always room for the unexpected. Every show is an improvisation of sorts—at best, a trance-inducing ceremony to elation through repetition, motion, and pain. At worst, a passing experience to prepare you for the next show.
