The Never Never Gig

A green-eyed monster with a pollyanna heart

In late 2021 I got a text from a “rising star” in the acoustic world, asking if I was interested in being part of a new touring band.

I was ecstatic!

It was a young, fun band with a heavy touring schedule, playing modern acoustic music at the highest level. The kind of offer I’d wanted since I moved to Nashville. It had also been a tough 18 months for gigs, and it was nice to feel like the touring world was finally limping back to life.

I expressed interest and started going back and forward with their team about the details of the gig: what the shows paid, whether we’d be traveling by bus or van, roughly how many shows per month were planned, and who else was in the lineup.

As the emails shot back and forward, Jake and I listened to recordings of the artist and talked about what it would be like if I took the gig:

I would be away from home a lot. I would likely have to give up playing with Brandy Clark full-time because of clashes with the touring schedules. I probably wouldn’t have time to pursue my teaching or writing work. It would be a fun musical challenge to play “high-brow” acoustic music. I would miss being the Musical Director, as I was with Brandy.

I kept saying I was interested and asking for more information in - what I can see now - was an effort to drag my feet on the decision while a niggling doubt grew in my gut.

When I moved to town, this gig was my dream, but was it still my dream?

Over the next couple of weeks, I pondered what to do:

I loved playing with Brandy and didn’t want to leave that job. The pay for the new gig was decent, but it wasn’t what I’d been making in the last few years and would mean taking a substantial monthly pay cut for a full-time gig that wouldn’t allow me to do much else. I didn’t relish the idea of touring in a van again, and I know that sounds spoiled, but I’d worked hard to get to the point of touring in a bus and being in a van every day vs. traveling overnight while you sleep makes for a significantly different quality of life on the road. I realized I would be the oldest in the band - not by a lot - but enough that I wondered if it would be the best “cultural fit” for me (aka would I feel like a musical grandma)? Most importantly, maybe, being on the road full-time wouldn’t allow time for my other pursuits, and the teaching and writing work that had been somewhat of a means to an end during the gig-free period of 2020 and 2021 had become too meaningful for me to let go of. This was the most surprising realization and, with it, it became clear what my decision should be.

I turned the gig down, and a few months later, I saw a friend had taken the gig instead. She was PERFECT for the band, and I knew she’d been looking for more permanent touring work. She is also a lovely human, and I was genuinely stoked that she had this job instead of me.

But… as the months of 2022 rolled on, I started to see photos and videos on social media of the group doing some very cool performances. Festivals I haven’t got the chance to play yet, guest spots with artists I adore, and awards shows I would love to be part of. My green-eyed monster rumbled a little on seeing these posts, and I’ve had to force myself to be happy for them numerous times. When I noticed a particularly cool gig post on a day when I felt like a failure, I would whine to Jake that I had made a mistake and should have said yes. And he would stoically remind me that I wouldn’t be happy on that job and that I had made the right decision.

I knew my friend was the perfect fit for the band, and I’m still so happy to see her out there just crushing it!

Nowadays, when I see photos or videos of the band, I find myself in a weird place, feeling both jealousy and joy. A green-eyed monster with a Pollyanna heart. I’ve realized it’s possible to feel both seemingly conflicting emotions simultaneously without needing to do anything about it.

Turning this particular gig down was a defining moment for me because it was the first time I’d turned something down that a quite recent past version of me would have killed to do.

But in the intervening years, my goals changed. And that’s ok.

Goals aren’t meant to be locked in stone, and all we can do when they shift is acknowledge it and try to honor the new goal that has emerged.

I was surprised to discover how important teaching and writing had become in the last couple of years, but also grateful to notice I’m still evolving; that what makes me happy is still able to morph and change as I, and the world around me, shift.

The Vanessa who moved to Nashville in 2014 would have been shocked and maybe a little disgusted to hear I’d turned down a touring gig in pursuit of life balance. But that’s the key thing. I’m not her anymore. She sprinted so I could choose a more sustainable pace. And the 2023 version of me knows turning down this gig was the right call.