On the Road Again with Hymn For Her

Hymn for Her is the name of a psychedelic, bluegrass rock and roll duo. But it’s really a rock ’n’ roll family — namely Lucy Tight, Wayne Waxing and their 9-year-old daughter, Diver. For five months of the year, they live in a funky shotgun shack somewhere in downtown Sarasota. When the family’s on tour, they take their home with them in the form of a flying saucer-like, gleaming, metallic 1961 Bambi Airstream trailer.

Right now, they’re in the home without wheels. I knock. Wayne and Lucy let me in — and instantly make me feel right at home.

Inside, the place is bursting with the instruments and evidence of creativity. The front porch/recording studio is a tightly packed tangle of wires, amps, keyboards and guitars. The living room has its own share of keyboards and a violin — both of which Diver is mastering. In the living room, their “inspiration corner” boasts an old school turntable and a collection of vinyl LPs ranging from Bob Dylan to Frank Sinatra. Wayne smiles as I read off the band names. “Yeah, it’s an eclectic mix,” he says. “We’ve got everything from Abba to ZZ-Top.”

Lucy and Wayne are true believers in the superiority of vinyl recordings. Of course, when they hit the road, the turntable stays home. IPods and the radio will just have to do.

I picture them on one of their journeys — a vivid glimpse of their trailer in my mind’s eye. But why not see it for real?

Why not?

They take me out back to check out their chariot. The Airstream trailer gleams in the sunlight. The workhorse that pulls it is right beside it — a 10-cylinder Ford van. Right now, they’ve put 460,000 hard miles on it. To put that in perspective: the distance to the moon is 230,100 miles. So, they’ve made it to the moon and back.

“I think we’re due for an oil change,” says Wayne, with a laugh.

That happens to be the basis of their latest Kickstarter campaign. (Which ends May 3.) A basic oil change goes for $49.99. Anything beyond that goes to their next album: “Drive Til U Die.”

“It’s our fourth album,” says Wayne. “We’ve put out about 20 grand on the record so far.”

“Our rock ’n’ roll road show isn’t cheap,” says Lucy.

So who takes the wheel of their rolling review?

Usually Wayne — maybe 75% of the time. Lucy generally gets the late shift. And they both take the responsibility very seriously. The consensus? Four hours of continuous driving is ideal. They try not to drive more than six—though they will if they have to. But only if the driver is well-rested, bright eyed and bushy tailed.

Driving aside, is it lonely away from home?

“Never,” says Wayne. “That’s the good thing about doing this together.”

And, for these rock ’n’ roll gypsies, “home” is where you park the Airstream. The couple consider themselves “sort of” Sarasotans who were born in Philadelphia and left their hearts in Maine. Their network of friends is nationwide musicians and music lovers in Michigan, Wisconsin, Philadelphia, Penn, upstate New York, New England, Arizona, Nashville, Tenn., New Mexico and points in-between.

“We have a long list of trusted nannies across the country,” says Lucy. “Our support system is in place.”

So how does Diver acclimate to life on the road? “Well, actually that’s normal for her,” says Wayne. “Being off the road is what she has to acclimate to.”

Lucy compares their child to a second generation astronaut. “If you grow up in space, you don’t have to get used to it,” she says. “If you grow up on the road, the same applies.”

She adds that the adaptable Diver often falls asleep in the bass drum case. “That’s like her crib,” she says. “She’s been sleeping in an instrument case since she was born. She started out in a violin case, moved up to a guitar case and finally graduated to the bass drum size.”

Diver’s latest accommodations: a miniature circus tent from IKEA which they set up on stage. According to Wayne, “The audience will be watching us—then someone will notice two little feet sticking out and kicking in time to the song.”

What does Diver do in the long miles?

“She’s an obsessive reader,” says Lucy. “We tracked our last tour by how far along she was in the Harry Potter series. We read the books together and finished a couple of months after we got back.”

 “I think Diver might be a writer when she grows up,” adds Wayne. “I know she’ll have plenty of material.”

Indeed. The family’s stories of life on the road are legion. (For bad luck tales, ask about “The Saga of the Exploding Porta Potty.”) But Wayne has a good-luck story …

“It was a Tuesday night in St. Paul, Minn. We were playing at this café, and it was really dead. There were maybe three people in the audience, so we started playing our obscure stuff, having some fun among ourselves and laughing. It turns out that one of the three people was a record label producer from Paris. He came up to us after the show. 'I want to buy all your albums! I can’t believe how much fun you had with only three people listening!' Then he told us who he was — and signed us up. Long story short, we’re now on the NATO label in Paris.”

But here in America, they’re independent touring road warriors. Wayne and Lucy handle all the production and promotion expenses of making their own CDs and vinyl albums. “We’re not philosophically opposed to records labels,” notes Lucy. “We just don’t happen to have one right now.”

Wayne adds that, “Thousands of contemporary musicians are in the same boat. Big-name musicians with major label representation are few and far between these days.”

Bottom line? They’re in it for the music, not the money.

“We play because we love to play,” says Lucy. “That’s the only good reason to do it. If you want to be rich, don’t play rock and roll. Be a college football coach instead.”

Chances are, Diver isn’t taking that path. As to writing, she’ll probably do it on the side.

“Diver’s getting pretty good on the violin,” Lucy says proudly. “She’ll be playing with us on our next tour.”