Ways to Prevent Burnout Before the Music Ends]

Most of us were taught how to dial in a good guitar tone long before anyone showed us how to survive the life around it. We learn how to fix cables, swap tubes, and restring in the dark. We spend hours obsessing over which overdrive is “more transparent.” But we spend almost no time on how to get through it all without wrecking our relationships, our bank accounts, or heads.

The gap between how seriously we take our role and how casually we treat our physical and mental health is where burnout lives.

Musicians’ burnout doesn’t usually appear as a single big breakdown. It’s a slow drift from “I can’t believe I get to do this” to “I don’t know who I am without this – but I’m miserable.”

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Dr. Ash King, mental health and wellbeing lead at Support Act in Australia, hears it every day on the phone. She says: “The biggest pressures are chronic overwork, financial instability, and identity strain. Long stretches of high-intensity work with very little recovery time.

“Sleep disruption. Alcohol heavy environments. Unpredictable income. Relationship breakdowns at home. Add to that the emotional labor of being ‘on’ every night, and the nervous system never fully powers down.”

Liam Hennessy, head of service delivery at Music Minds Matter in the UK, sees similar patterns. “Burnout often shows up in a few familiar ways,” he says. “Exhaustion from relentless touring or gigging, anxiety around income and career sustainability, and the emotional strain of tying your identity so closely to your creative work.

“When your passion is also your livelihood, setbacks can feel deeply personal.”

Burnout is best viewed as a series of pressures that are layered and interconnected, rather than a single issue or breaking point. “Financial vulnerability, health and mental health rarely exist in isolation,” says Theresa Wolters, executive director of MusiCares in the US. “What may begin as financial stress or physical fatigue can evolve into anxiety, depression, isolation, or burnout.”

Data from MusiCares’ Wellness in Music survey shows that more than 11 percent of music professionals reported suicidal thoughts in the past year – more than double the rate in the general US population. After years of anecdotal evidence, this sort of research is finally bringing to light the severity of the issues.

(Image credit: Future)

Make your relationships part of the plan

A friend of mine has spent years touring in heavy music. Every time he flies interstate for shows, his partner assumes he’s cheating. It doesn’t matter how many times he explains he’s onstage, loading out or crashed in a terrible bed – the suspicion is always there.

I try to be on the other side. On one run of shows with my band, the motel booking was wrong – again – and we had two beds for three people. My partner at the time was also a musician, and she trusted me. But I sent her a video anyway: one guitarist snoring, one drummer with coffee, me on a kid-sized pull-out bed. No groupies, no drama; just three tired idiots in bad lighting.

Hennessy emphasises the importance of this kind of connection: “Taking time to check in with people you trust and sharing honestly about how you’re doing can help prevent feelings of isolation.”

Burnout isn’t just about you – it’s about the people around you quietly giving up because they feel permanently pushed to the edges. They’ve effectively been an unpaid support act for your life.

Person playing guitar — (Image credit: Getty)

Setting expectations before things get busy makes a difference. Telling your partner, “These next four weeks are heavy; here’s when I’m around, here’s when I’m not, here’s how we’ll stay in touch,” beats leaving them guessing.

A 10-minute call at the same time after each show is better than three days of silence followed by a flood of texts. And don’t just send stage shots – send the empty rooms, the bad coffee, the six-hour drive.

Face the money conversations early

Money stress quietly drives more burnout than bad stages ever will. The Wellness in Music survey shows that 35-40 percent of US music professionals attribute their anxiety and depression to financial concerns.

I’ve seen it play out in many ways. I’ve had friends who missed family funerals because they couldn’t afford to skip a paid gig. I’ve been in bands where resentment over money has driven members to quit. I’ve watched players sell gear they love – and need – to cover rent between tours.

The math never really adds up unless you’re in that tiny top tier of professional musicians. Pretending otherwise just makes things worse.

Knowing your real cost per gig – fuel, food, accommodation, parking, lost income from other work – changes how you negotiate. Once you see those numbers laid out, it’s harder to say yes to things that are hurting your finances.

Talking numbers inside the band matters too. Hidden financial resentment destroys more bands than bad solos ever will. A low-paid gig doesn’t mean you’re a low-value musician. Sometimes you say yes for strategy; sometimes for fun; sometimes you say no. The key is to choose knowingly.

Musical instruments place in the living room of the house adapted for an online presentation on day 109 of the total quarantine in Colombia due to COVID-19 on July 11, 2020 in Cajica, Colombia. — (Image credit: Alejandro Avendaño/Getty Images)

Treat sleep and recovery as part of the show

You can’t completely control sleep on the road, but you can stop treating it as optional. Taking 20 to 30 minutes after a show with no socials, no emails, and no arguments helps. Stretch, shower, use headphones, do breath work – anything that tells your nervous system the gig is over.

Rotating who drives, who packs, and who handles the money and merch also matters. One person being the hero every night is a fast track to resentment and burnout.

Dr. King’s advice is simple: schedule recovery as deliberately as you schedule shows. “Small routines like a daily walk or 10 minutes of quiet before soundcheck matter,” she says. “Talk early. Check in with someone before you’re overwhelmed – a bandmate, manager, or counsellor. Silence escalates stress.”

Sleep, nutrition, hydration, movement, and rest are not luxuries – they’re essential to sustaining creative and professional performance

The comedown after a big run can hit harder than the run itself. King recommends planning that landing: think about what the week after a tour will look like: who you’ll see, how you’ll rest. The nervous system needs the landing strip as much as it needs the runway.

Hennessy agrees. “A big one is making time for proper rest, wherever possible,” he says. “Touring schedules can be relentless, but sleep and recovery are very important if you want to stay physically and mentally well over the long term.”

MusiCares’ Wolters says we should see the process as preventive care. “Sleep, nutrition, hydration, movement, and rest are not luxuries – they’re essential to sustaining creative and professional performance,” Wolters says. “Small, consistent habits make a difference.”

Have a plan for when it all becomes too much

Burnout sneaks up, but it does give early warnings – dreading gigs you used to love, numbness, snapping at people, drinking more just to get through. King reveals the two myths that come up regularly when someone finally reaches out.

“The biggest myth is ‘everyone else is coping,’” she says. “People compare their insides to other people’s stage personas, and decide they’re the weak link. Another common one is, ‘I don’t have it bad enough yet.’ Support is not only for crisis – early support prevents crisis.”

Wolters deals with similar barriers: “One of the biggest is stigma – the idea that asking for help is a sign of weakness, failure, or unprofessionalism,” she says. “We also frequently hear, ‘Other people probably need this more than I do.’ The truth is: if you’re struggling, you deserve help. No one has to wait until they’re in crisis to reach out.”

There’s also a strong culture of toughness in parts of the industry. Pushing through is often rewarded; but earning your stripes as a professional should not mean getting ill. You don’t have to wait until everything explodes before you’re allowed to ask for help. Having one trusted person in your circle that you can text “I’m not okay” without a long explanation matters.

Woman recording acoustic guitar — (Image credit: Getty Images/Kosamtu)

Remember you’re not gear

Your guitar doesn’t get offended if you swap pickups or change strings, but your body and mind aren’t that simple. They’re impacted by every all-nighter, every bad load-in, every “it’s fine; I’ll cope.”

Sometimes permission to step back is what you need most. Taking a break, changing how you tour, or saying no to a run that will break you is not failure. It’s maintenance.

Treat your body and mind as part of the tour infrastructure. The show is important – so are you

King puts it simply: “You are not a machine. Treat your body and mind as part of the tour infrastructure. Protect them the way you would protect your gear. The show is important – so are you.”

The music industry isn’t going to fix this for us any time soon. But we can start fixing it ourselves by rejecting the idea that suffering is proof of commitment, by supporting each other and by sharing the help that’s available.

Tune your rig, keep your chops up, chase the songs that light you up – and build a life around it that you can actually survive.

Help is at hand

Help Musicians (UK), Support Act (Australia), and MusiCares (US) exist specifically because this life is hard – and you’re not weak for using them.

Support Act’s Wellbeing Helpline offers 12 free counselling sessions per year – confidential support designed specifically for people working in music and the arts.

MusiCares provides confidential financial assistance, recovery support, and preventive care.

The UK-based Music Minds Matter’s 24/7 helpline is for people working in music who need a listening ear from someone who understands the unique pressures of the industry. Music Minds Matter has also developed a simple checklist that encourages people to ask themselves how they’re really doing.