Tour Diary: Ira Elliot

The Nada Surf Drummer Takes Us Behind The Scenes

Nov 23, 2024

Ira Elliot has been Nada Surf’s drummer for 39 years. The band’s tremendous 10th album, Moon Mirror, was released to rave reviews earlier this year by New West. When Nada Surf hit the road, I asked Ira—a great writer and storyteller who was contributed to two of my essay collections, Go All The Way and Forbidden Beat—to keep a tour diary. The final result combines raw emotion, funny bus and backstage insights, and unabashed drum geekery.

Day One: Tuesday, Oct. 1

I fly to New York to futz with my gear.

The first two shows of this 19-date U.S. tour are an early and a late set tomorrow evening at the Atlantis in DC, but all the members of the band and crew convened in New York today, Tuesday. I arrived from Florida early afternoon to put my drums together—change heads, mark up a new drum carpet—while the crew organized the rest of the backline, all of which is kept in a storage space in Greenpoint, Brooklyn, not far from where all of us lived at one point or another in Williamsburg.

By the late afternoon the gear was UHauled out to Secaucus, NJ where the tour bus was parked in a lot out behind a Red Robin on Route 3 while the band rented a rehearsal room (Pumps, directly above a strip club of the same name on the border between Brooklyn and Queens) where we ran through most of the 20 or so songs that will constitute the set list over the next three weeks.

(A week or so later I realized that the cajon, a wooden, box-shaped percussion instrument you sit on and play with your hands, that I used for this rehearsal was left behind at Pumps, one of two pieces of gear that got misplaced on this tour.)

I have to be honest, it was a very difficult day for me right from the very beginning. Without going into detail, I received some personal news the night before that put me into a state of extreme anxiety. Really, the last thing I needed at this point. I’d been in a very good mood over the past few weeks and was feeling excited about the tour especially as our bassist, who lives in Spain and has been having problems acquiring a work visa over the past weeks, was finally able at the eleventh hour to get into the country. We had another bassist friend of ours on deck in case he was unable to make it, but I was very relieved that this was not necessary.

I also have to admit that at the age of 61 it’s just harder every year simply to leave home for three weeks at a time—something that barely phased me years ago—but getting this particular news the evening before my departure sent me into a tailspin of despair and anxiety. I went to bed feeling it and it was just as strong when I woke up.

At 6:30am, as I do every weekday, I drove my 13-year-old daughter to the bus stop. Well, this was one of those days where we didn’t quite make it to the stop on time so I drove her directly to her middle school. It’s just a 10-minute drive, but I was consumed by despair and now anger because I felt as though this information could have been given to me at a different, more opportune time.

So, even knowing that I wasn’t going to see my daughter for three weeks, I spoke not a word. She clearly sensed something was wrong, but honestly—even on the best days—my communication skills are practically nonexistent that early in the morning. She gave me a half-hearted “love you” upon exiting and I immediately felt even worse.

At 8:15am my driver picked me up to take me to Tampa airport, typically about an hour’s drive north of Sarasota. However, after trying to get a bit more sleep in the back seat, I woke up at the airport to discover that the traffic had been so bad that it had taken an extra hour to get there. This sent me into another small panic because I always calculate my arrival so as to have enough time to check in, get something to eat and pass leisurely through security with time to spare. I hate having to rush through an airport, but now, with an atypically large number of bags—a shoulder bag and a snare to go onboard, and a large suitcase, another snare and a giant, super-heavy cymbal case—I had just enough time to check in, take the shuttle to the terminal, go through security and get straight onto the plane. I was really hungry, but I just didn’t have the time to stop for anything.

I found my seat and tried to get comfortable but once the plane got into the air the cabin temperature dropped 15 degrees and I was absolutely freezing. Living in central Florida has made me into a person who needs to start layering up once it goes below 70. All I had was a short sleeve shirt and a scarf. So, it was a cold, miserable, frustrating, half-asleep/half-awake, three-hour flight. This was really not the state I wanted to be in today.

When I landed at LaGuardia, I grabbed a Starbucks coffee and two Impossible breakfast sandwiches, one which I wolfed down immediately and the other I wisely saved for later and wolfed down during rehearsal at Pumps. The rehearsal was simple, low volume and went very smoothly. One bright spot was when we got word from our manager during the evening that an artist named Pedal Steel Noah—an interesting and unusual Instagram-centric musician—was going to post his version of our first single “Popular” the next day, which was a really wonderful bit of unexpected news.

Once we arrived at the bus parked out in New Jersey around 9pm, I chose a bunk (my standard middle bunk, back, right side) and then a few of us walked over to a nearby Walmart to get snacks and whatever. I needed a few personal items and found a cool “Vote 2024” t-shirt and some big, funky sunglasses both of which I thought would be fun to wear onstage. Oh, and some frosted raspberry pop tarts. :)

The night ended watching some post-debate recap in the front lounge of the bus and then at midnight I got into my bunk and wrote this. It’s been a long day and, honestly, I’m still pretty rattled emotionally. I’m hoping the activities tomorrow and over the next three weeks will help take my mind off of this particular issue. I have so many more important things to think about.

Well, it’s now 1am and the bus will start rolling in a few minutes which will probably, hopefully put me right to sleep. When I wake up I’ll be in DC. Let’s see how the first two shows go tomorrow. Ignite, kids.

PS: I texted my daughter in the afternoon and apologized for being in such a bad mood in the morning. She forgave me.

Day Two: The Atlantis, Washington DC

From the start, this was a classic tour day. As per usual, I slept as late as possible, today to around 11am.

I gathered my backstage bag which carries most everything I’ll need for the day—a bathroom/shower kit, in-ear headphones, a shirt for the show and so on—and headed into the Atlantis which is directly adjacent to the 9:30 Club.

The 9:30 Club is a legendary venue, sort of the CBGBs of DC, but the present location is not the original one. The owners decided to turn the building next door into a new venue that is vaguely reminiscent of the original space though much, much nicer and very modern. So, it was really fun to see this new venue because I had played at the old 9:30 Club with The Fuzztones in ‘83 and ‘84, but I later roadied The Fleshtones there and back to NY on one or two occasions. So, I had great memories of the place.

As is my usual routine, I entered the venue and made my way backstage to the dressing room, got myself a cup of coffee, ate a raspberry pop tart and headed to the stage to set up the kit that I had prepped yesterday.

Now, I wouldn’t be much of a drummer if I didn’t deliver a couple of paragraphs of lurid, intimate details of my drum kit so here’s my moment:

I’m playing an orange sparkle Ludwig classic maple kit that I’ve only had since 2021. With the exception of a handful of East Coast dates in 2022, this is really its first full tour—9”x13” rack, 16”x16” and 16”x18” floor toms and a 6.5”x14” Supraphonic snare (my spare is the 5”x14” Supraphonic that my mom bought me for my 17th birthday, still one of the best-sounding snares I own.
The hardware is mostly vintage Ludwig, four model 1400 cymbal stands—the skinny, flat-based stands you see on Ringo’s and Ginger Bakers’ Cream kits. They were state of the art from the mid-‘50s until the early ‘70s. I use a vintage ‘70s model 1123 direct-pull hi-hat stand (which was the second piece of gear misplaced when it fell behind the riser at load out in Milwaukee), a ‘70s Atlas model snare stand and a ‘90s Speed King bass drum pedal. The only modern modifications are an INDE Drum Labs low-profile rail rack tom mount and their aluminum floor tom legs.
My cymbals are Paistes—16” 2002 Big Beat hi-hats, a 24” Giant Beat ride, an 18” and 20” 602 thin crash, a 21” 2002 Big Beat, and an 18” Masters thin china. I use Vic Firth X5A sticks, but also AH5Bs and SD12 combo mallets on occasion.
There’s also a Porter & Davies BC2 which is an amplifier that sends the bass drum microphone signal directly into my drum stool which is especially effective when you use in-ear monitors, as I do. I also do my own headphone mix using an offstage Behringer X-Air18 mixer which I adjust using an iPad onstage.

Ok. So, the kit got built, the mics went up and we did a long soundcheck from 2:30pm to 4pm. We have a very cool, four-piece band from New Zealand, Office Dog, also on our new record label, New West, who I’m hearing for the first time tonight and I’m sure I’ll be a huge fan in no time at all.

Tonight was a bit unusual in that we played an early and a late show. This was because the Atlantis is a slightly smaller venue than we might normally play and the first show sold out very quickly, so a second was added. I have to say, I felt that the band sounded and played exceptionally well tonight. Daniel had a few technical issues with his bass rig, but that’s par for the course.

Day Three: Underground Arts, Philadelphia PA

Again, a very typical tour day.

I slept too long, until 3pm, clearly a sign of lingering depression, but once the day got going everything went like clockwork. The venue, as stated, is below street level and very funky and cool with lots of black lights everywhere. Great place to see a band—not too big, not too small, just nice.

I’m still making slight adjustments to the drums, in particular the bass drum which I’ve made a bit of a challenge by not having a standard port cut in the front head which is the easiest way to get a tight, punchy kick drum sound. Putting a mic straight into the hole and at the same time allowing all the air inside the drum to port out keeps the sustain of the drum very short. But by using a head without a port you invite a number of potential issues including too much sustain and beater flutter on the batter side because more air stays inside the shell which will “push back” against the beater. By using various muffling techniques—right now it’s a combination of a hinged pillow, felt strips and rolled up towels—I’ve gotten a pretty solid sound and feel going. Knowing me, I’ll keep messing with it for another number of days.

I guess I must be doing something right because after the show a guy stopped me to say that my playing reminded him of Blondie’s Clem Burke who is undoubtedly one of my favorite drummers. Compliments like that don’t come every day and I take them with great honor.

Tomorrow, Webster Hall in downtown Manhattan, a legendary venue that was called the Ritz when I was clubbing and seeing bands there in the ‘80s and ‘90s. Actually, now that I think about it, I believe my first time there I bought a scalped ticket for fifty bucks to see The Police play the night after their Madison Square Garden show on the Zenyatta Mondatta tour which they announced only the next morning. I also opened for The Bangles there a few years later with The Fuzztones. This will be the third time Nada Surf headlines there, I believe, so I’m very excited about it. And, of course, even though none of us live in New York anymore we still consider it a hometown gig, so there will be loads of friends and family there which is definitely one of the best things about going on tour in the first place.

Alright, signing off from my coffin-like tour bus bunk—back, middle, right, 3:55am.

Day Four: Webster Hall, New York City

Today was a bit of a blur. I’ll try to focus on the main events as I recall them.

Seeing that the load-in was scheduled for 1pm, I set my alarm for 11am, giving me time to lay in bed and do phone stuff for while—news, messages, schedule, guests, etc.—and then leisurely get dressed and saunter into the venue like a rock star. After turning that annoying alarm off multiple times, I actually woke up around 1:30am…effectively eliminating the phone stuff part of my morning routine and forcing me to move more directly to the leisurely dressing and rock star sauntering part.

Webster hall, as I mentioned, is a legendary venue with a very long history and though the inside has been newly renovated there are little details here and there that have remained unchanged for decades. The very spacious and cozy new dressing rooms are now on the basement level whereas previously the artists only had two very small rooms, one on either side of the stage on the balcony level.

In the midafternoon, a photographer from The Big Takeover came by and she shot the band in a few of the club’s interior spaces. Former band mate and dear friend Doug Gillard came for sound check. He joined us onstage for “Friend Hospital” on which he recorded a searing, melodic gem of a solo that really only he can play properly.

After sound check:

I removed gum from the seat of my pants which inexplicably was on the front edge of my drum rug (why?! who?! when?!) where I sat for the last few photos.
Gave myself a very minor haircut.
Did a 15-minute vocal warmup and then sang a bunch of random songs in the large, very excellent-sounding tile bathroom.

During the show, which otherwise seemed to go very well, one of my vintage (unstable and untrustworthy) cymbal stands decided to pack it in and fall over off the right edge of the riser. This often happens with these old stands. The lower post simply works its way out of the very bottom of the leg assembly. Probably just from repeated vibration. Luckily, I’m carrying two extra stands just for occasions such as these.

The first problem arose in trying to communicate the issue and its solution to our stage tech very quickly in-between songs in the middle of a show. He was able to locate the stands behind the heavy floor to ceiling curtain at the back of the stage. He picked up the fallen stand with a 20” cymbal on it and took it offstage right to set the new stand at a similar height, put the cymbal on and then return it to the riser which he did when the song ended.

I got halfway through the next song when it happened again and I recall thinking, ‘Why did he put the same stand back up?’ But, of course, he had put another different one up which also failed in the exact same way. Luckily, we had one MORE stand remaining which worked perfectly for the rest of the show. The 20” cymbal however, one of my favorites, was permanently damaged by falling twice in this manner and now has an inch-long crack at the edge that renders it almost completely useless to me. But, king of redundancy that I am, I am also carrying another cymbal of a similar size that I brought along but haven’t used. So, one will go in and the other will come out. I’m hoping I can speak with the folks at Paiste and see if they can get me a replacement for it by the time we get to Los Angeles a little over two weeks from now.

The night ended in VIP balcony hang out with a bunch of friends, all of us slowly being shuttled to a back bar by the staff who were trying to clear and prep the venue for the rest of the night (which looked to be a really fun party honestly). As the bus departure time arrived, our tour manager reminded us to get our stuff out of the dressing rooms which we dutifully did and then headed out to the bus through the club which was now slowly filling with beautiful young people. I really wanted to hang for a while…but onto the bus I went. I’m a professional, damn it!

And tomorrow, when I wake up, I’ll be in Boston. 3:03am signing off.

Day Five: Paradise Rock Club, Boston MA

What a lovely day today was.

First of all, the weather is absolutely perfect. Northeast, early October, low 70s, low humidity. Pretty big difference from Sarasota which is hot and humid all year long except for about three days in February.

I didn’t get up in time, but two guys from the band went to our friend’s studio where they’ve offered to do an Atmos mix of a Nada Surf song. Atmos is a kind of high-end, surround-sound mix which makes you feel like you’re standing in the middle of the band. I can only imagine, but it was reported to me that at least three grown men were brought to tears by the Atmos mix of Elton John’s “Rocket Man.”

We’ve played this classic Boston venue at least a dozen times over the years and the shows are always memorable. It’s a 950-capacity venue, but the room is much wider than it is deep. This can often translate to poor sound, but never in this room. There’s also a balcony level which gives a great sightline to the stage. I took a bit of muffling out of the kick drum (which definitely improved the sound) and then set up and sound check went very smoothly.

Me and a few of the crew guys took a walk up the street to a Thai place, had a half plate of pad Thai myself and saved the rest for after the show. Then we took to the stage at 9:30pm and played until 11:15pm, an hour and forty-five minutes, standard length. After the show, I typically head backstage for 5 or 10 minutes before heading back to the stage to break down the kit which is a complex task that I suppose I can and should just leave to the crew, but I generally don’t. I really like knowing that the kit was put away correctly and nothing goes missing. A drum set is made of dozens of component elements (as mentioned above) and a bunch of my stuff is vintage, so it needs to be handled with some care. Anyway, I don’t mind doing it because I’m so connected to my instrument—and also because I’m a crazy person who will not be able to sleep if I lose or forget something.

Onto the bus at 1am where we ended up watching the Old Gregg episode of The Mighty Boosh. You will either completely understand what that means or you won’t. It’s a classic to us and remains trippy, dark and hilarious.

Now everyone is in their bunks except me who’s stretched out in the empty front lounge of the bus as we barrel northward on Route 84 on our hour-long drive up to Middletown, Connecticut. Word is we’ll be parked up at a Walmart so there will be a shopping expedition around 11am before we head off to the venue.

G’nite! 3:03am. Wish me luck getting up…