When I moved to Minneapolis somewhere about 2005, the transition was bumpy. I had spent the previous eight or nine years in Duluth, MN, on the shores of Lake Superior. While there I spent most of my time wandering the woods, memorizing rivers, working odd jobs, and playing music. Minneapolis might as well have been Manhattan with all I knew about life in a major metropolitan area. The noise, crowds, and expense of my new home took a lot of getting used to. The band wasn’t making enough money to cover this new and shiny life so I set about looking for a day job.
For those of us who pray to the god of wandering, the perfect day job is hard to find. Back then I was often gone two or three weeks at a time, so flexibility was paramount. I had lived this way for a couple years by this point so it wasn’t a new situation, but back in Duluth I knew a lot of people. I had friends in restaurants and on construction crews so a piecemeal source of income was easy to come by. Like a lot of my grungy musician compatriots, I lack a college degree. The School of Hard Knocks, I often dad-joke to my kids.
A musician pal of mine in Minneapolis had mentioned to me in the past that he and his dad owned a small roofing company so when things eventually got dire I gave him a ring. My first roofing job was a three story beige suburban castle and, as was the case in every other construction job i’d done, the learning was by doing. The pitch was 7/12, which means for every foot the roof extends outward, it rises seven inches. It’s a way to describe how steep a roof is. A 12/12 is a 45 degree angle and about the steepest I ever saw. 7/12 is steep enough, but experienced roofers can walk around on it without any kind of support. I, however, was not an experienced roofer. As I tore off the old shingles with a pitchfork, my knees shook and I was slipping all over the place like the sheathing was made of ice. “Just put your feet flat on the roof and walk with confidence,” was the advice my boss gave. And it helped, actually. When I got down to the bottom of the roof, standing three stories above a perfectly manicured yard of Kentucky Bluegrass, my shoe caught on a nail. My feet went up and my head went back and I hit the roof hard and slid. Another nail, thankfully not yet removed, caught a pouch on my tool belt and saved my ass. My left foot hanging over the abyss, I crawled back up and lit a smoke.
I ended up roofing off and on for six years. Once I got the hang of it, I grew to really enjoy it. There were hot days in the summer and cold days in the winter in which I had no fun, but I liked the crew and I got pretty good at the work. It made me feel strong and tired and that’s not a bad way to come home at the end of the day.
I am of the mind that everyone could benefit from a little manual labor. I never had too many other options, but a lot of people avoid the experience all together. I’m not usually a fan of anything being mandatory, but if there was a version of the draft that put our young in a tool belt for a year of their lives, I’d probably vote for it. There is a lesson in mental strength that is learned only when your body is truly exhausted. The little petty bullshit that might normally ruin a day falls off your back like rain off a duck. When I'd switch from roofing back to my life on tour, a lot of the music business seemed extra whiny and I’d miss sweating and bleeding with the guys on the roof. The grass is always greener.
If I have a rough show, my usual response now is “beats roofing.” It’s a valuable perspective to have, even if it’s not always true. Though at my age, I don’t know if I'd survive a week on the roof.
I’m with TBT in Madison, WI right now in the middle of a short three show run in this state. We haven’t played together for a little bit and we’re having a great time. Wild Horses is opening for us on this run and they’re really great. Check em out! -
https://www.wildhorsesmn.com
As far as entertainment goes, I’m reading Jim Harrison’s Brown Dog and it’s damn good. Everything he wrote is damn good if you ask me, so I’m biased I guess. A Minneapolis band I like, She’s Green, just released a new single that I was listening to when I started this piece. You can hear that here if you’d like:
I’ve also been spinning Erik Koskinen’s most recent album, Down Street/Love Avenue, quite a bit:
When not listening to music or reading Jim Harrison, I’ve been listening to Steve Rinella’s new audiobook, The Mountain Men 1806-1840. Steve knows his stuff and I’m fascinated with that period of the history of this continent. It’s really good and available wherever you find an audiobook.
Hope you’re all getting through the February slog in good shape. Take care and chat soon.
Dave
Please sing Kelly’s Bar in Madison tonight!