When Radiohead began touring, the experience was exhilarating, yet the band had been active for five or six years before signing and had only performed locally in Oxford. Success thrust them into an unfamiliar realm: sudden fame, constant comparisons, and the intense demands of a rising act—late nights, poor nutrition, and the surrounding pressures of live music—all of which amplified feelings of isolation.
In 1992 we performed in small venues from a van, and by 1993 we were touring the United States for the latter half of the year. During our second extensive tour, the pressures culminated in my own withdrawal. The distance from home fostered intense impostor syndrome. Anxiety manifested in my playing; during a show supporting Tears for Fears and a band featuring Blondie’s Clem Burke on drums—a drummer I idolized—I became overwhelmed, my limbs moved independently, and the kick drum felt as if I were forcing open a heavy door.
By the tour’s conclusion, the strain was evident. I was fortunate to discuss my struggles with my wife, whose long‑distance calls during that era were costly. A manager later invited me to a conversation, which proved essential. Later, opening for James and REM offered mentorship, illustrating how observing others’ coping strategies was enlightening.
During Radiohead’s tour last autumn, the Music Industry Therapist Collective assisted us in establishing a support program for all touring staff. The MITC offered introductory sessions during rehearsals and production, and provided confidential drop‑in therapy for any member of the touring party. Prior to this, such resources were unavailable for artists performing at the smaller venues where we began.
At this level, margins are nonexistent and workloads intensify—handling equipment, traveling between shows, and relentless expectations to push through. This can lead to physical neglect and profound isolation. The constant relocation creates both emotional and geographical displacement, living in close quarters while performing sound checks, gigs, and post‑show interactions. Anxiety about mentors who may not have your best interests at heart adds to vulnerability, making it hard to speak up for fear of rocking the boat or burdening colleagues who may be facing similar challenges.
That’s why I’m championing the Pay It Forward Fund, established by Tamsin Embleton and the Music Industry Therapist Collective to deliver vital mental‑health support for musicians and crew on smaller tours, building on the assistance MITC already provides for larger productions. Engaging a therapist with lived industry experience ensures that individuals can speak with someone who truly understands their situation. My own experience volunteering with the Samaritans since student days underscores the importance of open conversation.
I wish such a resource had existed during Radiohead’s early days, and I hope the Pay It Forward Fund will fill that gap. An initial £272,000 will fund 150 practitioner teams over three years, delivering occupational health, mental‑health education, and pastoral care to artists and crew on smaller tours. Ultimately, the aim is for this support to become routine on all tours, offering the kind of assistance I would have valued then. No matter where you are, you can connect face‑to‑face with someone who can help.
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