The Road Warrior

Reno, Drum Tech and Stage Manager

HIS MOM AND DAD know him as Christopher McLendon, but the guys in Death Cab for Cutie, AFI, and Jimmy Eat World just call him Reno. And for the last 11 years, the 30-year-old punk rock roadie has been traveling the world by plane, bus, and cramped little van with those indie bands and a handful of others. (Capitol Hill is home for the odd week here and there when he gets to crash between tours.) He doesn’t drink, he doesn’t smoke—heck, he’s vegan—but his amp still goes to 11.

I GREW UP IN RENO, NEVADA— the kind of place you hope to move away from. The first tour I went out on, there were four Chrises. So I became Chris Reno, and then just Reno. But it could have been worse. I have a friend whose nickname is Pork Chop.

I DON’T KNOW WHY, but I have this idea that it’s kind of a slur, kind of a put-down to be called a roadie. When I hear “roadie,” I think of a 45-year-old guy with a ponytail and a fanny pack, wearing black sweatpants and talking about Metallica. But, essentially, I am a roadie. I’m on the road with bands.

WHEN A GUITAR CUTS OUT, it’s like, Is it the guitar? Is it the cable? Is it the foot pedal? Is it the amp? Is it the speaker? But with drums, it’s much simpler. If something falls over, you can see that it fell over and pick it up.

THE END OF THE STAGE IS WHERE IT STOPS FOR ME. So beyond the stage, if there’s 60,000 people or 600 people, I don’t feel any more or less nervous, or any more or less pressure.

ALL THAT WILD BACKSTAGE DEBAUCHERY was something that happened in the ’80s. People would be surprised how mellow it is now. If you went backstage with any of the bands that I work with, you might see six guys on their Apple laptops, sitting there with their headphones on.

HONESTLY, THE SECRET TO GETTING BACKSTAGE is to look like you know where you’re going. If you just walk in with confidence and act like you’re supposed to be there, no one’s going to question you, because you could be a friend of the band. Who wants to be the guy who says, “Can I see your pass?”

NOT THAT I RECOMMEND ANYONE DO THAT, of course.

IT DEFINITELY HELPS to like the bands you tour with. If it were somebody whose music I didn’t really like, it would be hard to listen to them every day and say, “Hey, good show.”

I’M MUCH MORE SELECTIVE ABOUT THE CONCERTS I GO TO WHEN I’M HOME, because the last thing I want to do when I have time off from working rock shows is go to a rock show.

I MISS BEING ABLE TO HAVE A DOG. I miss being able to have, like, a plant. I miss being able to just go home and listen to records—like on my turntable, actual records. I’m away nine months of the year, so all of my relationships at home suffer for that.

I DIDN’T LIVE ANYWHERE for, like, two years a few years ago. It seemed like a smart idea, since I was on the road so much, to just stay in a hotel. And it worked for a while, but it gets really hard to not have a home to go to. Even though I’m only here for a week out of every couple months, it’s nice just to come home to my house and have a closet and have my records there.

I REALLY DON’T DO SOUVENIRS which is kind of regrettable. And I rarely take photographs anymore. It’s a “been there, done that” and “I’ll be here again in six months” kind of thing.

I WOULD LOVE TO DO A VAN TOUR AGAIN. You have eight people crammed into a van, you’re stopping at gas stations, you’re seeing roadside attractions. Everyone should experience the camaraderie that comes from being in a van full of empty soda bottles and coffee cups, with everyone listening to the same music.

IF YOU ASKED ME WHEN I WAS 17 what I wanted to do when I grew up, I would have said, “Go to rock shows and hang out with my friends.” And somehow I managed to do it.

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Published: June 2010