by Markus Wilmsmann
I dreamt that Iggy Pop called me. Asked if I could run lights for his next tour. He didn’t even mention design – he wanted it to be „not so professional,“ and somehow, he thought of me. Just a dream, of course. But in that dream, a great time began – nightliners, backstage life, all of it. Iggy always rode on the crew bus, and we all became friends.
And then: radio silence. When the posters for the next tour appeared right outside my window, I kept waiting for a call. It never came.
But does that kind of thing really happen? Most of us sold our souls to rock’n’roll precisely because it doesn’t pull crap like that. Rock’n’roll makes you poor and free, but for the most part, it doesn’t make you deal with assholes – at least not between equals. Right?
Well, let me tell you right away: this utopia hasn’t quite made it into reality. I started making calls, had already heard some of the stories in passing, but once I dug deeper, a few real abysses opened up.
And let me make one thing clear: none of the people I spoke to would want to trade places. Not one. Because outside this business, plenty of human decency goes down the drain every single day. Maybe we all just think we’re living on a kind of blessed island.
And since hardly anyone in showbiz gets rich, couldn’t we at least stick together and try to make that better world rock’n’roll once promised us – just a little bit real?
And then there was silence
Is this even a topic? I mean: this is rock’n’roll, right? Anyone who goes on tour knows the deal. No security, no job guarantee, no fixed working hours. It’s a life on borrowed time. A job with an expiration date – often before the final show even wraps.
But what if the goodbye isn’t mutual? What if it just happens? From one day to the next – no heads-up, no call, not even a „thanks, that was nice“?
There was the lighting designer, for instance, who had shaped a band’s visual identity for years. He hadn’t just run lights – he built moods, made songs readable, translated sound into color. Then one day, a new musical director arrived. With his own crew. The designer found out through a Facebook post. „At first I thought it was a mistake,“ he said. It wasn’t.
Only: „You’re out as of tomorrow.“
Or the tour manager who had been there since day one of an artist’s career. From van tours to sold-out arenas. Always first at the venue, often last to leave. She didn’t just manage budgets and schedules – she took care of people. „At some point, I was like the big sister of the whole crew,“ she told me. Until someone decided: time for a fresh face. And being „too familiar“ wasn’t good for business. No conversation. No explanation. Just: „Not you anymore.“
Sometimes, another person told me, it’s even staged: „The nastier version is to blame the outgoing person – ideally in a theatrical tribunal. I mean, this is art, right? A little drama doesn’t hurt. Theater – but without an audience.“
And yet: almost everyone I spoke to said they wouldn’t trade the job for anything. One said:
„I feel like I’ve danced at ten weddings at once. This job lets me use all my talents. Where else would I have been able to do that?“ It wasn’t ego. It was gratitude. For a job that allows you to combine technique, creativity, precision and gut feeling.
A veteran lighting designer with experience in international productions pointed out a striking contrast: at the highest level, with long timelines and real infrastructure, people treat each other more respectfully. „Decisions aren’t made overnight,“ he said. „And when you leave, you know why.“ It’s a different story with some up-and-coming acts who want total professionalism but lack emotional maturity. „Suddenly you’re out – and no one says a word. Not even a ‚thank you.‘ And that’s exactly what would have mattered.“
„And then they wanted my place“
Another designer talked about how he created a detailed lighting design for a major show. He built fluid transitions, beautiful colors, a cohesive visual concept. After the premiere, he passed the show on to several operators – who toured with it for years. „After a few years, they all thought it was their show,“ he said. „And eventually, they wanted my place.“
It’s a classic example of something not at all rare in this industry: when you’re the one pressing the buttons every night, some start to believe they made the show. And when the next opportunity comes up – they grab it.
He shared several cases like this. And he was honest enough to admit: „I did the same thing when I was 25. Thought it was my show. It wasn’t.“
Grown up with the artist. Then replaced.
A designer from the old school summed it up: „Back then, you grew with the artist. Now, you get replaced. Because you’re not global enough. Or you don’t vibe with the new designer.“ When a big international name steps in, they bring their own crew. And the old one leaves. Often without a word.
And if things are already tense between artist and lighting designer, it gets even messier when designers start bumping into each other. In this industry, it’s not some algorithm replacing you – it’s another human being. Someone you probably know. Or at least should. Which makes it all the more painful when your replacement doesn’t even ask why the spot became available in the first place.
Something nearly everyone brought up: competition between designers. It’s a small world. People know each other. And still, designers undercut each other for jobs. That’s not always avoidable. But there should be a code.
„If you get asked to light a big tour – and you know someone was doing it before – call them,“ one said. „Ask: ‚What’s the story? Is this clean?'“ But more often than not, that call never comes.
Some designers only find out they were dropped when their successor is already sitting at the previz station. This industry runs on trust – and sometimes, it runs on denial.
Maybe it would be easier if we just followed the advice many gave me in retrospect: Never confuse collaboration with friendship.
But then again – maybe that’s something only people say who’ve never sat in a nightliner at 3 a.m., singing „The Passenger“ with their crew.
