Tour souvenirs we still haul across Australia
A quiet kind of history builds up in any band's luggage after enough flights. Picks, sticks, laminates, fan letters, and the occasional random hotel keycard pile into the crew cases gig by gig. Our road bags hold more actual history than our phones do these days. Pulling an object out at random feels like opening a time capsule.
Australian tours load the cases extra heavy. The country is huge, the drives between cities eat whole days, and the welcome from Brisbane and Perth crowds earns a permanent spot in the memory bank. We have played heritage rooms in Melbourne, sticky-carpet venues in Adelaide, and outdoor stages near Sydney where the weather flipped from sunshine to sideways rain in twenty minutes flat. Each stop leaves something behind for us to take home.
Some of the haul is obvious stage swag. Other pieces came from fans who shoved hand-drawn posters through the side door. A few were late-night impulse buys near the hotel, picked because the item felt like the city itself. No one planned a collection, it just kind of built itself.
Below is a tour through the gear dragged home from years of bouncing around Australia. If you ever catch us sound-checking, peek behind the drum riser. That is where most of the treasures live.
Picks and sticks that survive the encore
Jared throws picks into the crowd every show, but a few always seem to boomerang back. One came back from a Brisbane show with a tiny "G'day" written across it in silver pen. Another got caught in the rafters of a heritage venue in Melbourne and waited three encores before someone climbed up to grab it. The rest of the picks on the rack will never match that kind of story.
Drumsticks live a rough life. A snapped pair taped together with Sydney gaffer sits on the practice room shelf next to an unopened backup set. The broken ones get photographed more than the fresh ones.
Laminates from every backstage door
Rehearsal space walls are covered in laminates, and the Australian ones stand out the most. Each venue prints its own design, and the colours usually match the city more than the band. The Tivoli in Brisbane leans warm and tropical. The Forum in Melbourne goes moody and dark. Even pubs in regional towns turn in slick cards with hand-drawn logos.
Laminates outlast phones, hard drives, and most friendships in the band. When someone asks where we played on a Tuesday in Adelaide years back, we check the wall instead of the calendar. That little piece of plastic usually has the answer taped to the front.
How each keepsake measures up
Souvenirs earn a spot for different reasons. A pick that boomerangs back is a story. A laminate is a city and date in plastic. A poster is a memory of someone who showed up early.
| Item type | Where we usually collect it | How often it survives the trip home |
|---|---|---|
| Guitar picks | Stage or front row | Almost always, except a few lost under seats |
| Drumsticks | Behind the kit | About half, the rest end up as kindling |
| Setlists | Side of the monitor world | Most — unless the crowd reaches the stage first |
| Laminates | Backstage entry | Every single one, they live on the wall forever |
| Handmade fan art | Merch booth or back door | Almost all, flattened carefully into a folder |
These numbers are not scientific, just decades of watching what actually makes it back to the van.
City finds from each main stop
Australia hands out unexpected souvenirs if you actually leave the venue. Some favourite stops between soundcheck and curtain have been record shops behind Sydney Inner West cafes, opal traders in Adelaide, and beachside markets near Perth where a hand-carved piece almost fit in an overhead bin.
A few habits repeat trip after trip. The first batch of small items comes from the venue itself. The second batch shows up everywhere else, from late-night servo runs to hotel lobby vending.
Things that follow us out of the show:
- Drumheads and broken sticks the kit tech saves after load-out
- Sharpied setlists scribbled between soundcheck and doors
- Hand-drawn posters folded into a manila folder
Things we grab between gigs:
- Pressed vinyl from record shops that no longer exist back home
- Coffee beans from roasters we cannot get in the States
- Small pins from opal traders in regional towns
Pieces the crew traded between bands
Road cases get handed around more than people think. A pedal board built with help from a Sydney tech is still on the touring rig. A borrowed microphone from a Melbourne band made it onto our last record. None of these items are signed or framed, but each carries a bit of the person who lent it. The tour family expands a little with every run, and the suitcases get heavier in the best way.
The trades go the other way too. We have passed spare cymbals and in-ear monitors to younger Australian bands who opened for us, hoping their gear ends up in someone else's memory case one day.
If any of this sounds like a collection worth starting, come down to a show and grab a piece in person. Check the tour dates page, swing past the merch booth after the set, and ask what is tucked behind the riser this time. You might walk out with something that still smells like a city on the other side of the world.
