Tour Riders, The Stuff Of Legends

Once upon a time, being a rock star meant you could pretty much do whatever you fancied. Smash up a hotel room? No problem. Drink like a sailor, smoke like a chimney, snort like a vacuum cleaner? All part of the job description.

But times have changed. These days, throw a telly out of a hotel window and it’s not just the manager giving you grief – it’s someone from housekeeping live-tweeting it with the hashtag #RockStarOrJustJerk before TMZ has even sent a camera crew. The age of glamorous chaos is over, and today’s stars have to find new ways to misbehave.

And so, enter the humble tour rider. On paper, it’s dull: sound gear requirements, lighting specs, security details, catering basics. Yawn. But somewhere along the way, it turned into the modern star’s playground. Why settle for backstage sandwiches when you can demand only blue M&Ms, water chilled to exactly 16.3 degrees Celsius, and a dressing room stocked with fresh socks, three beanbags, and a llama (hypothetically)?

The rider has become the last safe space for indulgence – a sort of legal mischief list. Forget smashing up hotels. Now, the true mark of celebrity power is whether your sparkling water comes in the right shade of glass and your hummus has been stirred counter-clockwise.

The Beach Boys

The Beach Boys: legends of surf, sun, and… oddly specific shopping lists. Their tour rider reads less like a rock ’n’ roll manifesto and more like the errand list of a particularly fussy uncle.

First up, the numbers game. If a show doesn’t sell out, no one is allowed to mention attendance. But if it does? Then everybody — your mum, your postman, the bloke down at the pub — must be told immediately. Genius PR move, really.

They also ask for recycling bins, with a note of thanks “from the planet itself.” It’s nice when the Earth finally gets a speaking role, though one wonders what it thinks about the next demand: 48 large bath towels. How many Beach Boys are there these days? Even with the reincarnated spirit of Brian Wilson’s sandpit, that’s a lot of cotton.

The snack requests are fairly standard, until they’re not. Only VIVA brand paper towels, Marlboro Lights in a soft pack with a lighter (just not green, heaven forbid), and a few cans of Copenhagen Long Cut dip that must be less than a week old. Apparently even chewing tobacco has a freshness date.

And in case you thought the boys were clinging too hard to their youth, they make it clear: no “OLDIES” branding anywhere. Posters, flyers, inflatable beer coolers, the word is banned. Yet, in the same breath, they ask for Werther’s Originals and a 50-foot roll of Saran Wrap. Rock ’n’ roll rebellion meets retirement-home practicality.

As ever, the Beach Boys embody contradictions: forever young in spirit, but just one boiled sweet and a mountain of bath towels away from a coach trip to Bournemouth.

Mary J Blige

Most stars ask for a clean, carpeted dressing room and a private bathroom. Sensible. Mary J. Blige, however, goes one step further: she demands a brand new toilet seat at every stop. Not cleaned. Not sanitised. Brand new. One wonders — do the venues get to keep it once she’s gone, or is each seat ceremonially destroyed, like a fallen gladiator?

Her hotel requirements are equally… precise. Travelling incognito as Mrs. Jefferson (well, until the rider leaked), she insists her name not appear on any room lists, and that her room be tucked away in the quietest part of the hotel, on a non-smoking floor, and absolutely not on the same floor as her crew. Diva rule number one: distance equals peace.

The quiet clause continues with military detail: she must be notified of any construction nearby, and housekeeping must honour the “Do Not Disturb” sign — spelled out with 26 exclamation points. They are forbidden to knock, to check occupancy, or even to vacuum the neighbouring rooms. To top it off, she requests two humidifiers in the room, which means even if someone did start vacuuming, it might be drowned out by the gentle hum of moisture in the air.

Honestly, with demands like these, it’s no wonder Mary J. is called a diva. But hey, if fresh toilet seats and ultrasonic silence are what it takes to keep those vocals flawless, who’s complaining?

James Brown

The Godfather of Soul didn’t just perform in style — he travelled in it. James Brown’s rider made sure of that. First rule: five-star hotels only for Mr. Brown and his entourage. Not four-and-a-half, not “luxury boutique.” Five. His suite requirements read like something out of a palace brochure: one two-bedroom Presidential Suite, two Junior Suites, and a Deluxe Single. To get him there? A stretch limousine, exactly 186 inches long, current year model, plus a van just for the luggage.

But while James lived like royalty, his crew got the budget monarchy treatment. The band and singers were downgraded to a four-star hotel, and the dancers had to stay at a completely different four-star joint, lest the two groups mingle. The separation of classes was alive and well on the James Brown tour bus.

Backstage, the demands were equally exacting. His dressing room had to feature two full-length mirrors, a lighted makeup mirror, two garment racks, a circulating fan, an ironing board with steam iron, and a hooded hair dryer — in case the Godfather wanted that pompadour picture-perfect before he strutted out. Oh, and one more thing: an oxygen tank, plus a whole separate room for his “wardrobe mistress.”

An oxygen tank and a wardrobe mistress? Let’s just say when James Brown belted out “I feel good!” — he meant it in every possible way.

Prince

When it came to backstage requests, Prince (His Royal Purple Badness) was never going to settle for a fruit basket and a six-pack. His rider reads like a mix between a wellness retreat and a sugar-fuelled afterparty.

First off, a doctor must be on hand at exactly 6:00 PM every show day, ready to administer B-12 shots on demand. Forget vitamins in gummy form; Prince wanted his energy straight from the needle. Alongside the Doc? 500 pounds of ice. That’s not a typo. Half a ton. Enough to cool the drinks of an army, or maybe just one very particular Minneapolis genius.

Curiously, booze was banned backstage, but the sugar ban clearly wasn’t. The rider demands six dozen doughnuts from Krispy Kreme or Dunkin’ — apparently no indie doughnut shops made the cut — plus three dozen assorted pastries from a “real bakery.” None of that supermarket nonsense, thank you very much.

To balance it all out, Prince required Yogi cocoa tea, jasmine and lavender candles, and tables at every entry point specifically to collect gifts and flowers from fans. Because of course, when you are Prince, the stage isn’t enough — even the dressing room needs to look like a temple of devotion.

Backstage for most artists looks like catering; backstage for Prince looked like a shrine, powered by B-12, doughnuts, and half a ton of ice.

AC/DC

You know a band’s been on the road for a while when their rider includes three oxygen tanks and three masks. Yes, that’s straight from AC/DC’s 2008 tour demands — and frankly, after four decades of belting out Highway to Hell, who wouldn’t need a little extra air?

Their booze clause is surprisingly modest: exactly one case of Heineken in bottles. But in bold, bossy letters comes the warning — “no beer in dressing room prior to show.” That’s right, no pre-gig pints for Angus and crew. Apparently the beer had to wait until after the amps cooled down.

What they were allowed before showtime was almost adorable: fun-size chocolate bars. Nothing says hard rock like a mini Snickers. And alongside the sugar rush, a platter of imported cheese and crackers, with the very specific stipulation: “English cheeses and water crackers preferred.”

So there you have it: oxygen tanks, bite-sized sweets, and a nice wedge of Stilton. For a band famous for thunderous riffs and pyrotechnics, AC/DC’s backstage setup reads more like the world’s rowdiest wine-and-cheese club.

Guns 'n' Roses

When Guns N’ Roses rolled into Belgrade on September 23, their backstage rider looked less like a rock band’s wish list and more like the inventory for a luxury hotel crossed with a gourmet supermarket. According to Blic Online, frontman Axl Rose wanted his dressing room to be “all black and decorated with fresh roses.”

Champagne, vodka, tequila, red wine, and beer were to be available at all times, because hydration comes in many forms. The room itself had to be kitted out with dark shades, a bed, a sofa, a coffee table, six lamps and a rug. To soften all that brooding noir aesthetic? Exactly 18 red roses and 18 white roses. Nothing says “hard rock chaos” quite like carefully balanced floral symmetry.

The rider then gets down to logistics, spelling out everything from catering to cutlery. As Blic Online reported:

“The rider precisely states what the organizers need to provide when it comes to catering, and the list includes black napkins, a blender, a juice maker, a tea kettle, paper tissues, 18 glasses for wine and champagne, 15 glasses for stiff drinks, 40 paper glasses, six cutlery sets, two bottle openers and corkscrews, as well as one large and two smaller bread knives. As for food, and especially drinks, the requirements are even more precise, with Axl demanding salt and pepper mills, olive oil, Balsamico vinegar, soy sauce, two bear-shaped tubes of honey, exact brands of white, red wine and vodka, Patron Anejo tequila and Jose Cuervo mixed cocktail drink. Moreover, the organizers will need to come up with six bottles of Lucky Budha beer and as many bottles of Grolsch and Checkvar beers. As for non-alcoholic drinks, the rider includes Red Bull, Coca-Cola, 7 Up, a carton of orange juice, as well as Pellegrino mineral water and Smart Water. In addition to fresh fruit — bananas, apples, strawberries, raspberries, water melons, mangos and grapefruits — the band will have at its disposal carrot, celery, cucumbers, various kinds of crackers, seven kinds of cheese, strawberry jam, mayonnaise, ketchup, mustard, white bread, while the rockers will enjoy a dinner with the menu comprising roast chicken, two portions of medium rare filet mignon, Cesar salad, four cheeseburgers and a spinach salad.”

It reads less like a backstage snack list and more like the weekly shop for a Michelin-starred restaurant. From bear-shaped honey tubes to Pellegrino water and exactly two medium-rare filet mignons, every detail is accounted for. And let’s not forget the four cheeseburgers tucked in there, proving that even amidst the roses, wine, and Balsamico vinegar, the band still knows the value of a good burger.

In the end, the Guns N’ Roses rider is a perfect reflection of the band itself: equal parts decadence, precision, chaos, and just a touch of theatre.

Mariah Carey

Mariah Carey has long been known for her diva-level demands, and her tour riders are proof that the fantasy doesn’t stop at the stage. In earlier years she insisted on Cristal champagne, sipped delicately through “bendy straws.” By 2010, though, her tastes had “matured.” The Cristal was swapped for a $200 bottle of cabernet sauvignon, and her dressing room transformed into a mini sanctuary with two dozen white roses and vanilla aromatherapy candles. Growth, Mariah-style.

Her “living room space” comes with some very specific interior design notes: “no busy patterns; black, dark grey, cream, dark pink are all fine.” Plaid and tartan, it seems, are the enemies of vocal excellence. One can only imagine the catastrophic effect a gingham armchair might have on “Hero.”

Temperature is another deal breaker. Carey’s room “should be about 75 degrees,” because who can hit a high note in a draught? And to set the mood just right, a “lamp or clip light” must be provided so “harsh lighting may be turned off” in her backstage bathroom.

In short, Mariah doesn’t just perform under perfect conditions — she lives under them. And if that means bendy straws, soft lighting, and a ban on plaid, well, that’s just the price of true stardom.

And this is only scratching the surface. For every rider listed here, there are dozens more lurking in filing cabinets, venue inboxes, and the memories of long-suffering tour managers, each with their own strange logic and backstage mythology. I will almost certainly return to this piece and add more over time, but the sheer volume of eccentric requests makes it a slow process. Rock stars, it turns out, have been very busy for several decades, and their shopping lists deserve patience.

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