One Wild Week In America

On Book Touring Vs. Band Touring

Over the past year and a half, I’ve been drawing parallels between book tours and band tours. They share similarities in the constant movement, and that my impression of a city is often based upon one meal or a couple of bite-sized conversations. There are also differences, like the ease of solo travel on a book tour, the ability to eat and sleep wherever I want, and the absence of a cumbersome drum set.

Many of you have experienced band tours, but fewer have gone on a book tour. So instead of elaborating too much on the experience, I’ve decided to create a photo collage with commentary on my recent journey through Tucson, Los Angeles, Detroit, and Madison. This trip was unique in that three out of four events consisted of me doing PowerPoint presentations, a format I enjoy, but which also brings technical stress and the awareness that it’s just me on stage, by myself, with nobody else.

Monday October 16, 10pm

I fly from NYC for a quick dinner in the Atlanta Delta lounge, then on to Tucson. The University of Arizona sends a car service to pick me up, and I decide not to take a picture of the driver holding a sign that reads “AYERS” in big letters. Instead, the first photo from Tucson is this lovely welcome sign at the airport.

Tuesday October 17, 8am

I do some zoom calls from the rooftop pool, where I finally begin to understand why people enjoy working remotely. My Life in the Sunshine begins with me feeling agitated from unexpectedly hearing my father’s music in a movie. It happens again at the pool in Tucson—in the sunshine—and this time, it feels great. I’m amazed by the large number of people with whom I’m now able to text and share this moment, including newfound relatives and two of the musicians who actually played on the 1976 song.

Tuesday October 17, 1pm

My friend Kurt picks me up at my hotel and walks me around the beautiful University of Arizona campus. Some kid is on a soap box talking about religion, which feels much less threatening because he’s wearing shorts and he’s surrounded by palm trees. Kurt and I enjoy lunch at a Mexican spot that makes me angry about my lack of access to amazing Mexican food in New York. I walk around downtown Tucson for a couple of hours and buy a cool hat at a record store, but it’s black, so now my head might be protected, but it’s even more hot.

Tuesday October 17, 4:30pm

I meet Kurt at KXCI, the community radio station where we chat and play music inspired by my book. It’s especially fun because Kurt chooses all the songs I never would have picked by artists we both love.

Tuesday October 17, 6:15pm

On the ten-minute walk from my hotel to the University of Arizona, I worry that in 45 minutes, I’ll be giving my presentation, but I haven't even seen the venue yet. In bands, we’d show up hours ahead of time to load in our gear, sound check, and kill time. We’d leave for dinner, come back and watch the opening band, and by the time we played, I’d feel comfortable in the venue. Now, it’s the opposite. 6:30 arrival for a 7pm event is standard, and my drummer brain can’t handle it.

Backstage in Tuscon

Tuesday October 17, 7pm

Everything is great at the venue, except that it’s raining out, which is apparently rare in Tucson. While the rain is blamed for a smaller-than-anticipated turnout, I’m still thrilled to have a good crowd who brings insightful thoughts and questions. My event is part of the Tucson Humanities Festival, so even though it’s at a university, it’s mostly adults who want to talk about music and race, and I realize that I attract a certain type. Afterwards, I stand out as a lone diner among groups of backwards-baseball-cap-wearing dudes and teenage women with fake IDs at a collegiate sports bar, where my server constantly refers to me as sir.

Wednesday October 18, 6 am 

Everything looks good for a 7am takeoff until, at the last minute, the pilot announces that due to some fog in LA, all flights are grounded for at least a couple of hours. This isn’t good, because I’m scheduled to speak at UCLA at 1pm, which is kind of soon, considering I’m currently in another state.

Wednesday October 18, 8am

The next two hours are terrible, and I descend into coffee drinking, airport bagel eating hell. Then they rush us on to the plane, explaining that we need to take off quickly before they close the sky again. LA looks typically smoggy, and I make it to the UCLA campus exactly on time. Just like in Tucson, my presentation works perfectly, and faculty and staff look at me like I’m crazy for thinking that thirty minutes isn’t enough time to prepare.

Wednesday October 18, 1pm

This talk is for UCLA students who are either studying music or music business, and they’re exceptional. After my talk, one student stands at the microphone and tells the story of her mixed-race struggles and explains that she only recently met her father, with whom she bonds over music on long drives. On a recent drive, he played her one of his favorite artists, Roy Ayers. I’m not a crier, but in that moment I feel a different kind of gulp than I’ve ever felt during a book event. At least a dozen kids ask challenging, sometimes heavy questions, and I leave feeling optimistic about the future.

Outside, there’s a catered Middle Eastern lunch, and the only doubt I feel all afternoon is when I overhear one kid ask another what tahini is.

Wednesday October 18, 5pm

I kill a few hours on a fancy strip in Venice eating things that seem healthy and catching up on email. I’m already starting to feel like I’ve spent a lot of time alone lately, even though it’s only been about 48 hours, and I’ve been surrounded by people almost the entire time.

Wednesday October 18, 10pm

I board a redeye flight to Detroit. There’s a flight the next morning, but the way things are these days, if that flight was late, I’d miss my event. So tonight I’ll try to sleep in this flying metal tube. It doesn’t really work because the flight is just four hours—barely enough time to watch two bad films, which I do instead.

Thursday October 19, 6am

I check into my Detroit hotel, which I booked for last night as well, so I can check in when I arrive at 6am. This is never easy to explain and it always causes me to brace for an early morning argument. I’m not asking for early check-in. I’m actually checking in very late. It works, and I’m able to sleep for a few hours.

Thursday October 19, 1pm

I walk to Third Man Records, the store / fun factory owned by the musician Jack White. On my way, I pass by a high school marching band that’s preparing for a parade, and when I try to walk through them, two cheerleaders flip their batons horizontally to block me, as if they’d been warned that someone like me might try something like this. I walk an extra block to go around them instead of getting into an altercation with one hundred teenagers with batons and tubas.

Thursday October 19, 2pm

I’m lucky enough to get a tour of the Third Man record pressing plant from Jack White. It’s an amazing place with yellow floors and dozens of people pressing records, and also… get this… listening to music. I’ve toured several record pressing plants, but never one where music is playing, which really enhances the already great vibe of this place.

Thursday October 19, 5pm

I have a lovely dinner and “share” some pistachio soft serve with two friends at SheWolf, but let’s be honest, I eat most of the ice cream myself. This is a selfie from the bathroom. 

Thursday Oct 19, 7pm

non fungible record

Tonight’s event is hosted by Detroit legend, Ann Delisi, and it feels a little different for both of us because it’s divided into two twenty-minute sections. The reason is of course that Third Man is one of the only places in America that can record music—or an author interview—live, direct to vinyl. So we record our talk with two twenty-minute sides in mind. I now own the only physical copy of our talk. It’s like an NFT, except you can hold it.

Thursday Oct 19, 10pm

Tonight is the first after party, which means that I join some locals at a nearby bar called Honest John’s and plow through grilled cheeses and french fries. I sleep very well, but only until 4:30 am.

Friday October 20, 5am

The Detroit airport is busy and I have flashbacks of the last time I was here in July, when I took my wife on her birthday to see Taylor Swift in Kansas City. We got grounded in Detroit due to KC weather, and we had a terrible morning trying to compete with much younger passengers in pink clothing who all had the same destination. We eventually made it to Taylor’s show. That’s another story.

Friday October 20, 6am

On my way out of the Detroit Delta lounge, Maurice, the gentleman who saw my name when he admitted me twenty minutes earlier, asks if I’m related to Roy Ayers. I tell him yes, and that I wish he could have been at my event last night. Then I reach into my bag and give Maurice the copy of my book that I carry for moments like these, and I suggest that he press the secret button that allows me lounge access for life. He presses a button, but I think it’s fake.

Friday October 20, 8am

My friend Matt picks me up at the Madison, Wisconsin airport, and we catch up for the first time in several years. We first met in Seattle around 1994 when we both worked at record stores, and Matt was the first person—but not the last—to introduce me to Marilyn Manson. We have breakfast at a great hippie restaurant that smells like my childhood in Amherst, then we head to WVMO, where Matt hosts a weekly show. I play an acoustic guitar, but you can’t hear it on the air.

Friday October 20, 2pm

After a tour of a few great Madison record stores, I spend a couple of hours walking around town with my friend and former Sonic Boom Records employee Robb. He wears a Sonic Boom shirt, and points out every old school dive bar in town, but the responsible adults in us opt for smoothies.

Thursday Oct 19, 6:15pm

I’m scheduled to speak at the Wisconsin Book Festival at 7pm, and the woman behind the author registration table looks completely caught off guard by my punctuality (I know there’s a word for earliness, but let’s just say I’m on time). I’m typically antsy at 6:40, when I finally get to do a quick run through my presentation with two techs who assure me that they’ve tested everything. Indeed they have, and my Madison talk ends up being perhaps the most fun I’ve had at any book event. Why, you may ask? Because it was crowded, because I was in the zone after doing the presentation so much recently, and most importantly, because people laughed. I’ve learned that laughter is my favorite part of any talk. Even and especially when the subject matter is serious, there’s nothing that offers more relief than a group of people collectively unloading tension together, and on that night in Madison, things really clicked.

Saturday October 21, 6am

I’m on a flight home to NYC for a weekend of rest. It’s been a great trip. It may have been the last trip. For now, at least.

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My memoir My Life in the Sunshine is out now. I’d love it if you picked up a copy at your local independent bookstore. It’s also available at all the big places, and for your Kindle as well. There’s an audiobook that I spent 20 hours of my life reading (it’ll only take 7 hours to listen). You can listen to the 5-minute intro for free on Spotify.

I hope to see you somewhere soon. Upcoming events are always listed here.

Nabil Ayers / Brooklyn

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