The Show Ends,
The Real Work Begins
The Real Work Begins
While we’ve been working on our documentary about music and mental health, something unexpected kept happening: some conversations turned out so raw and honest, they deserved another life — beyond the final edit. That’s how this piece came to be.
Christopher Tait is a musician from Electric Six — and someone who knows more about survival than most self-help books ever will. His story isn’t just about addiction and recovery. It’s about how music can be more than a trigger — it can be a tool for healing. And how, after making it through himself, he decided to help others do the same.
Up to 73% of touring professionals report symptoms of anxiety, depression,
or substance use
or substance use
Around 100,000 music events happen around the world every day — from tiny local shows to full-blown stadium tours.
Behind them is an industry where burnout is often just part of the job: according to various studies, up to 73% of artists and touring crews struggle with anxiety, depression, or substance use.
And yet, there’s still very little support infrastructure — especially on the road, especially far from home, especially in the U.S. That gap is what led to the creation
of Passenger.
In 2016, Christopher founded Passenger in Detroit — a nonprofit that helps touring musicians and the local creative community find support, escape toxic environments, and build new routines. They host 11 support groups a week, run recovery programs for substance use, behavioral addiction, and family dynamics, and organize creative and therapeutic events like sound healing and music therapy. Everything is free. The organization is funded by the state of Michigan. Since 2024, Passenger has been operating out of its own space in Hamtramck — a historic neighborhood known for its bars, factory shifts, and music. A place where it used to be easier to spiral — and now, it’s easier to come back to yourself.
Since its founding in 2016, Passenger Recovery has grown from a support system for touring artists into a full-fledged recovery community center serving both musicians and locals. Their work spans recovery coaching, creative writing workshops, sound meditations, and diverse support groups — all designed to build connection, reduce stigma, and offer real-life alternatives to isolation and relapse.
In 2024, they launched Passenger Radio WHCK, a local station that amplifies their mission through music, storytelling, and cultural programming. WHCK bridges the space between art, mental health, and recovery — reflecting the belief that healing extends beyond sobriety to include emotional and social growth. By spotlighting diverse voices and building community through sound, Passenger continues to show that recovery can be not only possible — but vibrant.
This text isn’t a traditional interview. It’s Christopher’s voice — pulled directly from our conversation, with no edits or rewrites. It’s the voice of someone who knows what it’s like to fall apart and rebuild. To crash — and stay.
«My name is Christopher Tait. I’ve been with Electric Six for almost 25 years, and I got sober in 2011. Back then, I had one foot on the street — health issues, tax problems, financial mess, the works. I was lucky to be pointed to MusiCares. They covered my treatment, and that changed my life. But a few years into sobriety, I realized something: if you’re a touring musician in the Midwest, you’re kind of on your own. Finding support was hard. The drives were long, the phone didn’t always work, the info was outdated, and often, you just didn’t know where to turn.
In rock and roll, there’s this strange stigma — not if you’re using, but if you’re not.
I’d walk into green rooms and feel like the weird one for being sober. So when I moved back to Detroit in 2015, I decided to do something. I started telling local promoters we’d pick people up — musicians on tour who just needed a break, someone to talk to, or even just a place to do laundry that wasn’t a bar. That’s how Passenger started.
Since its founding in 2016, Passenger Recovery has grown from a support system for touring artists into a full-fledged recovery community center serving both musicians and locals. Their work spans recovery coaching, creative writing workshops, sound meditations, and diverse support groups — all designed to build connection, reduce stigma, and offer real-life alternatives to isolation and relapse.
In 2024, they launched Passenger Radio WHCK, a local station that amplifies their mission through music, storytelling, and cultural programming. WHCK bridges the space between art, mental health, and recovery — reflecting the belief that healing extends beyond sobriety to include emotional and social growth. By spotlighting diverse voices and building community through sound, Passenger continues to show that recovery can be not only possible — but vibrant.
This text isn’t a traditional interview. It’s Christopher’s voice — pulled directly from our conversation, with no edits or rewrites. It’s the voice of someone who knows what it’s like to fall apart and rebuild. To crash — and stay.
«My name is Christopher Tait. I’ve been with Electric Six for almost 25 years, and I got sober in 2011. Back then, I had one foot on the street — health issues, tax problems, financial mess, the works. I was lucky to be pointed to MusiCares. They covered my treatment, and that changed my life. But a few years into sobriety, I realized something: if you’re a touring musician in the Midwest, you’re kind of on your own. Finding support was hard. The drives were long, the phone didn’t always work, the info was outdated, and often, you just didn’t know where to turn.
In rock and roll, there’s this strange stigma — not if you’re using, but if you’re not.
I’d walk into green rooms and feel like the weird one for being sober. So when I moved back to Detroit in 2015, I decided to do something. I started telling local promoters we’d pick people up — musicians on tour who just needed a break, someone to talk to, or even just a place to do laundry that wasn’t a bar. That’s how Passenger started.
We’re now based in Hamtramck, right in the middle of Detroit. It’s a melting pot — gritty, beautiful, full of artists, and also full of bars. At one point, more bars per capita than anywhere else in the world. So yeah, addiction runs deep here. But so does music. This is where Motown started. This is where the White Stripes played their third-ever show. So we figured, why not use music and art as a bridge to recovery?
The name Passenger came from a few places. We were literally getting people rides to support groups, so there’s the obvious meaning. But also, it was about learning to be along for the ride, instead of trying to control everything. That was a huge thing for me in recovery — letting go of control. I had tried to stranglehold my whole life, and by the time I got help, everything was falling apart. The name was also a nod to Southeast Michigan music — there's a song called ‘The Passenger’ I’ve always loved.
Going to support groups changed my life. I remember walking in, even though I had all these consequences breathing down my neck, still thinking, ‘Well, I’m different. I’m not like these people.’ But I kept showing up. And over time, it became impossible to ignore that we had things in common. I’d been focusing so much on the differences that I missed the point — these were just people, like me, trying to get better. And they were willing to help.
But I always felt like — okay, so we talk for an hour and then we all go home. And I’d think, why can’t we build something more permanent? Like a real community. And for us, music and art became that glue. That’s our language. That’s what makes it feel like you’re not just surviving — you’re creating again.
Now we’ve got murals on the walls — De La Soul, Phil Lynott from Thin Lizzy. We’ve got books about Nina Simone and John Coltrane on the shelves. The idea is: you walk in, and it doesn’t feel like a recovery center. It feels like somewhere you’d want to be. And maybe you’re not ready to talk yet, but you see a record on the wall, or a painting, and that starts a conversation. That’s where it begins. That’s how we lower the barriers.
I remember reading something Andrew WK wrote — a guy had written to him saying, ‘I don’t believe in a higher power, what should I do?’ And Andrew said, ‘Make music your higher power.’ That hit me hard. Because I’ve felt that too. I’ve been in a room with thousands of people, no one talking, but completely connected by sound. That feeling when the hair stands up on your neck — that’s real. That’s a natural high. The same thing people chase in a bottle or a baggie — you can get it through music, together, alive.
For a long time, I used drugs and alcohol to isolate. And I also weaponized music — I mean, I was angry, I listened to Joy Division, Suzie and the Banshees, wore black, everything about me said ‘don’t talk to me.’ But now, I let music connect me.
I let it hold me. It brings people together. It brought me back.».
As part of our documentary, The Healing Soundtrack: Unplugged Minds by OTO Originals, we’re exploring the ways music affects the mind — emotionally, socially, neurologically. How it helps — or hurts. How it becomes an anchor, or a trigger. We’re speaking with musicians, neuroscientists, and cultural researchers — from personal stories to hard science.
Passenger offers free support groups, creative programs, and a real sense of community for anyone on the road to recovery.
The name Passenger came from a few places. We were literally getting people rides to support groups, so there’s the obvious meaning. But also, it was about learning to be along for the ride, instead of trying to control everything. That was a huge thing for me in recovery — letting go of control. I had tried to stranglehold my whole life, and by the time I got help, everything was falling apart. The name was also a nod to Southeast Michigan music — there's a song called ‘The Passenger’ I’ve always loved.
Going to support groups changed my life. I remember walking in, even though I had all these consequences breathing down my neck, still thinking, ‘Well, I’m different. I’m not like these people.’ But I kept showing up. And over time, it became impossible to ignore that we had things in common. I’d been focusing so much on the differences that I missed the point — these were just people, like me, trying to get better. And they were willing to help.
But I always felt like — okay, so we talk for an hour and then we all go home. And I’d think, why can’t we build something more permanent? Like a real community. And for us, music and art became that glue. That’s our language. That’s what makes it feel like you’re not just surviving — you’re creating again.
Now we’ve got murals on the walls — De La Soul, Phil Lynott from Thin Lizzy. We’ve got books about Nina Simone and John Coltrane on the shelves. The idea is: you walk in, and it doesn’t feel like a recovery center. It feels like somewhere you’d want to be. And maybe you’re not ready to talk yet, but you see a record on the wall, or a painting, and that starts a conversation. That’s where it begins. That’s how we lower the barriers.
I remember reading something Andrew WK wrote — a guy had written to him saying, ‘I don’t believe in a higher power, what should I do?’ And Andrew said, ‘Make music your higher power.’ That hit me hard. Because I’ve felt that too. I’ve been in a room with thousands of people, no one talking, but completely connected by sound. That feeling when the hair stands up on your neck — that’s real. That’s a natural high. The same thing people chase in a bottle or a baggie — you can get it through music, together, alive.
For a long time, I used drugs and alcohol to isolate. And I also weaponized music — I mean, I was angry, I listened to Joy Division, Suzie and the Banshees, wore black, everything about me said ‘don’t talk to me.’ But now, I let music connect me.
I let it hold me. It brings people together. It brought me back.».
As part of our documentary, The Healing Soundtrack: Unplugged Minds by OTO Originals, we’re exploring the ways music affects the mind — emotionally, socially, neurologically. How it helps — or hurts. How it becomes an anchor, or a trigger. We’re speaking with musicians, neuroscientists, and cultural researchers — from personal stories to hard science.
Christopher’s full story will be featured in the film. But we’re sharing his words now — because they’re needed now, not later. This is the kind of honesty we want to begin with. A conversation about what begins after the show ends.
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If you're a musician or part of the touring crew and you're struggling — you don't have to go through it alone.Passenger offers free support groups, creative programs, and a real sense of community for anyone on the road to recovery.
Learn more or reach out at passengerrecovery.com
