Styx: Countdown to Showtime

Band members pull back the curtain on the backstage rituals, preparation and camaraderie that lead up to another night on stage.

By Doug Fox

It was a little over five minutes to showtime and the Styx entourage was making its way to the stage at the Ford Idaho Center in Nampa, Idaho, this past November.

The route to the stage turned out to be a bit circuitous. Instead of entering through a pair of main doors that opened on the stage right side — presumably because it would have momentarily revealed the band to a portion of the audience before the house lights went down — Tour Manager Tracy Weideman led the wandering troupe down an offshoot hallway that was undergoing some kind of facility facelift. 

The walkway was enclosed with plywood panels, similar to those makeshift pedestrian pathways you see on city streets outside construction zones — or the inside of haunted houses. It made for quite a surreal scene: Band members in their stage attire, some with guitars slung over their shoulders, parading carefully through the semi-confined space.

That short detour eventually led to a big open area behind the stage, where the band congregated for a last-minute pre-show huddle and monitor check. The arena sound system suddenly cut off in coordination with the house lights, and applause emanated from the venue. 

Band members exuded a mix of determined confidence and excitement, each reacting in his own way as they climbed the stairs to the stage while the recorded “Circling From Above” walk-on music pulsed through the speakers. 

Another Styx show — one of 80-plus in 2025 — was about to begin.

The Other Side of Lights Out

Seasoned concert attendees can tell you that there’s one precise moment in the evening when audience anticipation accelerates from zero to the best of times. Ironically, it’s not quite part of the performance itself.

Few concert moments are as magical as when the house lights suddenly go out, signaling that one of your favorite bands is about to take the stage. Thousands of fans raucously cheering, craning their necks to peer between the myriad arms waving and heads bobbing in front of them to get their first glimpse of rock stars entering their natural habitat. 

For decades, spanning hundreds of concerts of all varieties, I’ve been fascinated with this phenomenon. As fans, we all know what this moment is like for those on the audience side of the stage. I’ve always wondered, however, what the lead-up to lights out is like for those on the other side of the curtain — those actually taking the stage to perform.

My curiosity was such that for several years, I made this a standard query whenever I did phone interviews with rock musicians to preview shows coming through Salt Lake City. I saved all those related answers in a file on my work computer. Unfortunately, a computer crash wiped out that composite file before I could get around to writing the story and I was too disheartened to pore through all my interview microcassettes to recapture the answers.

My interest in exploring the mechanics and emotions of a band’s pre-show routine, unlike that old work file, never disappeared. I’m thrilled to say that writing The Stygian Chronicles has allowed me to scratch that itch with Styx and finally share those insights.

The band allowed me nearly unfettered access at a series of shows over the course of a year to experience their pre-show routine. This has involved spending time in individual dressing rooms, sitting in during their final vocal warm-up exercises and, yes, striding purposefully with them to the stage. 

Here’s a peek behind the curtain.

The Calm Before the Noise

Show days themselves are pretty much a slow build to that evening’s festivities. After completing a show, the band and crew will almost always travel through the night to the next city — even if there’s a day off between shows. Mornings are usually rest and recovery from the night before and otherwise free time for the band members, unless there are any media or other publicity obligations to tend to.

As guitarist/vocalist Will Evankovich noted, “You don’t get paid to play, you get paid to travel, because the travel is hard. The actual show itself, everybody absolutely loves.”

Band members typically arrive at a venue between four to five hours before showtime. That leaves a few hours of individual time, which could involve coordinating things with members of the crew, grabbing dinner, taking a nap, warming up or just hanging out and visiting.

There’s no chaos. If anything, it’s controlled calm.

But that calm doesn't last forever. As the clock inches toward showtime, the quiet backstage rhythm gradually gives way to a series of personal rituals and preparations. And for singer/guitarist Tommy Shaw, that often begins with a guitar in his hands. 

Riffing With Tommy Shaw

At this point in the early evening, everybody’s pre-show routine looks a little different. Shaw can usually be found in his dressing room casually gearing up for the night ahead. These are the moments we’ve generally done free-form interviews for past, present and future editions of The Stygian Chronicles.

While discussing his normal routine before the aforementioned Nampa concert, Shaw showed off a cool little practice amplifier he keeps in his room. The amp has Bluetooth capability linked to his phone.

“Play ‘Michigan’ by Styx,” Shaw spoke into the phone. The song began playing through the amp, and Shaw, with a warm-up Les Paul also plugged into the amp, began playing and singing along to the studio recording. The new song, from the band’s latest album, “Circling From Above,” was in the set list for that run of dates and Shaw was keen on giving it some extra attention. 

At one point, there was a knock on the door and Loverboy lead singer Mike Reno popped into the room to chat about a production issue from the night before. Loverboy was along in the support role for this select run of November dates. 

After Reno left, Shaw recalled the first time he’d met the members of Loverboy.

“I met those guys when I first went to Toronto,” he said. “The hotel we were staying at was right down the street from the club they were playing. I walked in there, and (guitarist) Paul Dean recognized me. And he said, ‘Why don't you come up and play?’ And he gave me his guitar. So that was my first introduction to them.”

Back in November, Styx was also in full prep mode for their “Pieces of Eight” residency in Las Vegas, so a lot of spare time was focused on fine-tuning those songs.

“Everybody will start with an outline of a song, and they’ll know what key it is and how the body of the song is put together,” Shaw explained. “Then we’ll start playing it in the dressing room. And then we’ll do it at a soundcheck. Then we’ll each examine it and say, ‘You know, I need to work on this section.’”

During a dressing room chat before one of the Las Vegas residency shows, for example, Shaw picked up a guitar and put some extra practice in on “Aku-Aku,” the meditative, tranquil closer to “Pieces of Eight” that the band was playing nightly. As our conversation continued in other directions, he also riffed on portions of “The Things That You Said,” off the new record, and old favorite “Midnight Ride,” from “Equinox” — the latter being the first song the band played for him when he auditioned in 1975.

That song made an immediate impression, he noted. “I’d never been in a band that played just balls-out rock and roll music.”

Anybody who spends any kind of time backstage before a Styx show will no doubt notice the overall great vibe that exists — one that can’t really be faked. There’s a lot of camaraderie, good humor and an overall professional atmosphere. 

“We have great chemistry in this band,” Shaw said. “None of us care about being the top dog. We all just want to be in the band and have our ideas respected and tried out.” 

Shaw's routine may revolve around practice guitars, conversations, or a song he's polishing for an upcoming performance, but every member of Styx has developed their own path toward showtime. While the details differ from person to person, the objective remains the same: arrive on stage physically prepared, mentally focused, and ready to rock. 

Getting Ready, One Way or Another

While Shaw is often running through his warmups, the other band members are all going through their own pre-show rituals.

Drummer Todd Sucherman mapped out his routine.

“We all have our things that we do to warm up on our own,” he said. “You’ve got to have that time to warm up by yourself. For me, it’s a physical thing. I tape my hands and I have to pick out an outfit to wear. I get the in-ear monitors around my body and medical-taped to my back — which is something that we all do for each other. It’s a little beehive of activity that leads up to our vocal warm-ups before the show.”

Keyboardist/vocalist Lawrence Gowan has a litany of things on his pre-show checklist, beginning with eating at least two hours before the show. 

“Otherwise, I’ll just be burping on stage,” he laughed.

“It’s a long buildup in that we kind of go to our separate places — if there is not a joint dressing room — and do our own personal preparation for about two hours prior to the show,” he said.

Other things on Gowan’s checklist include applying lip balm and eyedrops, as well as drinking tea and inhaling from a hot steam machine to make sure his pipes are loosened up and ready for the vocal calisthenics ahead.

“Stretching is the final thing right before you go on stage, and it’s just basically getting your body warmed up to hit the stage at full speed,” he said. “Everyone’s doing their own version of that. It’s kind of funny to watch, actually, because they’re all different.”

Evankovich noted that the first main shift in the backstage vibe occurs around 90 minutes to showtime. “That’s when we have to start actually getting warmed up. Todd starts practicing his pads, Lawrence starts practicing his keys and I sit on guitar or do various scales for a while just to get my fingers warmed up.”

For much of the evening, these preparations happen separately, each musician focused on his own checklist. Eventually, however, the individual routines give way to something collective. 

Getting in Tune

The proceedings really start ramping up about 25 minutes to showtime. That’s when the band members migrate from their separate points backstage to the same practice room for a united vocal warmup session. 

This is where the metamorphosis from five individuals to one cohesive unit begins.

It was intriguing to sit in with the band as they prepared for the Nampa show. Shaw, Evankovich and bassist Terry Gowan were plugged in and playing along with their instruments, while Sucherman practiced on his drum pads and Lawrence Gowan and guitarist/vocalist James “JY” Young sang along.

“Our convergence to do vocal warmups is kind of what bonds everyone for what we’re about to do,” explained Lawrence Gowan.

To begin with, the band locked their voices in and tightened harmonies with a number of vocal exercises — which admittedly can sound slightly humorous to an outsider. They then proceeded to perform choruses to several songs, including “Blue Collar Man,” “Rockin’ the Paradise” and a folk-inspired take on “Renegade.” They closed out with a full rendition of “Michigan,” after which Shaw spontaneously broke into Survivor’s “Eye of the Tiger.”

On this night, the session lasted just over 15 minutes, wrapping up as Weideman entered the room to give the 10-minutes-to-showtime warning.

People briefly scattered to take care of any last-minute business before congregating in the hallway for the final march to the main stage.

With the warmups complete and the harmonies locked in, all that remained was the pulse-quickening walk to the stage, where preparation gives way to performance.

Now it was time to experience what I’d always wondered about.  

Walking the Walk

One of my favorite takeaways from this assignment occurred as band members gathered in a hallway outside their dressing rooms five minutes before showtime at the Mountain America Center in Idaho Falls, Idaho. There was a small catering table, lined with a few items, including a stainless steel food dome covering.

While waiting for everyone to arrive, Sucherman, his first pair of stage drumsticks already in hand, spontaneously started rat-a-tat-tatting the metal accessory like an instrument. It immediately reminded me of years around the dinner table growing up when my brother and I would grab a spoon or a fork and attempt to cobble together the semblance of a beat on our plates, glasses or nearby tub of I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter. 

The difference? It was amazing how musical Sucherman’s exercise actually was. It sounded incredibly good. As a recent video posted on the band’s social media shows, Sucherman can even make a plastic trash can sound musical.

The walk to the stage is unique in every venue. I’ve witnessed this trek six times now, in five different locations.

A private gig in a hotel, for example, saw the band passing through a catering hallway and passing through some portions of the hotel’s common area. There was the jaunt through the plywood pathway in Nampa. At the Venetian in Las Vegas, band members rode a service elevator up to the stage. At the “Rockin’ in Paradise” festival in Miramar Beach, Fla., the band simply migrated from their nearby trailers to meet up at the base of the stage stairs for a final hurrah.

It was interesting to observe the outward emotions of each band member as they made their final approach to the stage. They might be one in purpose, but everyone’s demeanor proved uniquely personal.

“The walk to the stage is basically a time to kind of put your chest out proud and feel like you have the wherewithal to do this together,” said Lawrence Gowan, who, if you’re wondering, is often the most animated and most likely to psyche himself up with some enthusiastic yelps before the grand reveal. “There is a great feeling in a band where you feel like anyone can lift everyone else up. It’s a walk of excitement — and guarded confidence.”

Evankovich is similarly transformed.

“There is always a thrill and an adrenaline rush that happens on the walk from the dressing room to the stage,” he said. “It’s almost a transformative power where you become a superhero inside of 60 seconds while you are just waiting. You have to kind of keep in mind to tone yourself down, so you don’t go out there and just start spazzing out musically. But other than that, it’s exhilarating to walk on stage to a lot of cheering people that want to hear your music.”

As the live heartbeat of the band, Sucherman takes one for Team Adrenaline by purposefully keeping his emotions in check in the moments before walking out on stage — where he is often the first member to appear.

“I’m very good at not allowing myself to ride a useless wave of emotion,” Sucherman said. “I’m very stoic — and when the lights go out, it’s time to do a job. And when I take the stage, my heart rate and my breathing is very, very calm and I just go out there and do that. There’s no, ‘Gee, everyone, I’m so excited!’ I don’t allow myself to do that because I would be allowing something to control me, my playing, the tempos, my breathing, and my heart rate. There’s a job to be done, you know what I mean? Like if you were having open heart surgery and you were a doctor, you wouldn’t be going, ‘Gee, isn’t this amazing what I get to do?’

“I don’t want to take any of the mystique out of it, but that’s how it works best for me.”

Terry Gowan takes the complete opposite approach. As the newest member of Styx, the excitement of taking the stage still remains something of a “pinch-me” moment.

“It’s goosebumps for sure,” he said. “When we all start to walk together toward the back of the stage, it’s a strong moment of unity for the band. We’re all walking in the same direction, we’re all warmed up — and we’ve been doing this throughout the day, but now here it is. You feel a real sense of unity as a band that we’re going to go out there, and we all rely on and believe in each other. It’s a great feeling because that’s all I ever wanted was to be in a band like this.

“You walk up the steps in the dark and you hear the audience, and it's the same thing every time,” he continued. “As a kid, I always wanted to be exactly here. Every time I went to a show at Maple Leaf Gardens or anywhere, I always wondered what it would feel like. And now I can say it’s as magical as I ever imagined. I call it Father Christmas. You walk out and see the smiles and happiness in everybody. I could do it for a thousand years. And I think if I did, I'd feel the same every show.”

Guitarist/vocalist James “JY” Young has been walking onto stages most of his life. For years, he strode onstage in the initial darkness of a Styx show and made an emphatic point to the back rows or rafters of each audience. Like Babe Ruth, Young once told me, it was a symbolic way of calling his shot, promising a home run of a performance ahead. 

These days, while occasionally doing the point when the moment strikes, he’s still focused on touching all the bases.

“I’ve been playing guitar on stage going way back to battle of the bands contests that they had on Navy Pier in Chicago. We did pretty well down there in our mid-teen years,” said Young, noting that his enthusiasm for the stage continues to this day. “We’re not lollygagging and partying. At this stage, it’s like you were one of the top guys on the football team but then there’s a bunch of other people that have come up around to challenge that — and so there’s a certain amount of feeling like we’ve got to show them we’ve still got it. In Styx, we’ve sold millions and millions of records, so our attitude is that we belong with the big guys. We’ve proved it in so many ways.”

Shaw tends to take the stage with a tempered enthusiasm — not too high, not too even keel. He still lives for stepping on the stage each night. 

“You can tell this is a pretty easygoing thing,” he said of the backstage vibe in his dressing room a couple hours before a show, a yellow Gibson Les Paul in his hands. “But we’ve got people who are dead-ass serious that want everything to be right.”

And those hours before each show are designed to make sure it is.

Over the past year, I’ve learned that the final walk to the stage isn't simply a series of steps toward the inevitable. It’s a transformation. Everyone gets to this point differently, but they all arrive together.

The route to the stage may change from city to city — whether it's a service elevator in Las Vegas, a hotel hallway at a private event, or a plywood pathway in Idaho — but every night ends the same way.

The house lights go down.

The audience roars.

And six musicians become Styx.