Somewhere near Cobourg, Ont., a tour bus powered by recycled cooking oil sputtered to a halt.
Inside was B.C. singer-songwriter Miina and her crew, midway through a 24-date cross-country journey built on a scrappy hypothesis: that with enough ingenuity, and fryer grease, a musician could still make the economics of touring work in 2026.
The bus, a converted 1972 Greyhound running on leftover oil collected from roadside diners, was meant to help her sidestep fuel costs — which continue to surge amid the U.S.-Israel war with Iran.
For a while, it worked. Then, on the way to a gig last month, it didn’t.
“We’re about halfway through our tour, but in rural Ontario — unfortunately, the furthest spot from home — our bus decided to have a little bit of a malfunction,” Miina says.
The breakdown forced the dream-pop artist to postpone several shows and cost thousands to repair.
The bus acts up now and then, she says, and bandmate Pat Ferguson is usually mechanically savvy enough to troubleshoot — but not this time.
“It feels good when we get to fly by gas stations and not have to fill a tank,” she says. “But it is hard work, too… and there’s unexpected expenses that change things.”
Her experience points to a broader crisis facing Canadian musicians, who say touring has become an increasingly high-risk gamble. As fuel, food and accommodation costs soar — and audiences grow more cautious about spending amid inflation — artists are being forced to scale down, absorb losses or rethink touring altogether.
‘I GO INTO DEBT A LOT TO GO ON TOUR’
For independent artists like Miina, ticket and merch sales remain the most reliable source of income: “It’s a big aspect of what keeps this whole project going.”
Many artists say streaming royalties alone don’t come close to a living wage, with one tour manager describing earnings as “a fraction of a penny” per stream.
Live show fees and merch sales can make up more than 75 per cent of an artist’s annual income, according to the Canadian Live Music Association (CLMA).
But these days, breaking even is far from guaranteed.
“I feel like I go into debt a lot to go on tour,” says Halifax folk-pop artist Jenn Grant. “It would be helpful if people bought tickets earlier, but it’s hard for people to buy tickets, too.”
Grant, who has been touring her 10th album “Queen of the Strait,” says rising costs have forced her to shrink her operation the last couple years.
“A lot of my touring has been pared down to a duo or trio because we can’t afford a band and we can’t afford the lighting person or the sound person or the tour manager, which can be stressful,” she says.
Grant has also been bringing her two kids on the road, which means the added cost of a tour nanny.
“Flights are crazy, gas is crazy. Sometimes I ask myself if I think it’s a good idea to keep going.”
Indigenous singer-songwriter Aysanabee says he fronted more than $80,000 of his own money into a recent cross-country tour — even with strong ticket sales, grants and merch revenue.
“Until you get to a certain level, you’re kind of just hoping you’re breaking even,” says the four-time Juno winner.
The biggest expense, he says, is transportation. Even without a tour bus — he rented a Sprinter van and trailer — flights, vehicle rentals and gas “eat up a massive chunk of the budget.”
On top of that, Aysanabee insists on paying his crew a livable wage.
“Artists are kind of this small business that employs a lot of people,” he says, listing off the chain: musicians, tech staff, front-of-house engineers, photographers, hotels, rehearsal spaces, merch designers, factories, shipping, storage, publicists.
“There’s a lot of economy that gets created. Prices of everything go up when gas goes up.”
It’s why, he says, “it’s kind of like the death of the middle-class artist.”
TOURING IN CANADA ESPECIALLY HARD
Those pressures are amplified by geography.
“Touring is wildly expensive, especially in Canada, because the cities are so far apart,” says Aysanabee, who’s currently traversing the country to support his EP “Timelines,” featuring stripped-down versions of songs from his catalogue.
“In the U.S. or Europe, you can drive an hour or two to the next city… In Canada, you have to drive for an entire day, sometimes two days, to the next gig. That’s everyone’s fees for the day, and there’s no show, so you have no money coming in.”
Touring has always been a precarious business, says tour manager Jen Ochej, but rising costs are squeezing margins to the point where some artists may have to tap out.
“It’s having a huge effect on a lot of artists,” says Ochej, who’s worked with Jessie Reyez, Lights and the Dears.
“I’m afraid we’re going to start seeing more tour cancellations with artists who just can’t afford the cost of being on the road.”
Efforts are underway to shore up parts of the live music ecosystem.
This week, the Ontario government committed more than $20 million to nearly 400 festivals and events through its Experience Ontario 2026 program, a move it says will bolster the cultural and economic vitality of live music.
FACTOR also just launched a $2-million program for Canadian promoters and festivals, meant to help them take a chance on homegrown acts, even when ticket sales are uncertain.
Grant says she’d like to see more governments step up for musicians. Her home province of Nova Scotia recently announced $130 million in cuts to government grants, slashing funding for arts, tourism and culture programs.
“It would be great if arts and culture in general were more supported. It’s something that the world really needs in a significant way right now.”
FANS AND ARTISTS FEEL RIPPLE EFFECT OF WAR
At the same time, audiences are tightening their spending, creating another layer of pressure.
“You take a hit when you walk outside. You take a hit when you go to the grocery store. You take a hit when you’re going to a show,” says Broken Social Scene frontman Kevin Drew.
Ochej says audiences are becoming pickier, often saving up for major arena acts — “the Harry Styles’ and the Taylor Swifts” — rather than turning out for emerging or mid-tier artists.
“They’re like, ‘If live music is a premium product, then I’m going to be super selective about which concerts I go to and maybe not take a chance on a show that’s not guaranteed to be this huge, once-in-a-lifetime thing.’”
A recent CLMA report found the sector contributed $10.92 billion to Canada’s GDP in 2023, but warned escalating ticket prices for top-tier acts are squeezing fan budgets, leaving less money for smaller shows.
Even established acts are feeling the strain.
For Broken Social Scene — the Toronto indie collective whose teeming ensemble has never made touring cheap — the current climate makes an already precarious balancing act even harder.
Drew says the band expects to shoulder losses when it embarks on a North American tour with Metric and Stars this summer.
“We’ve been taking hits for a long time now, and again we made a decision to do this. I can’t complain about things that I chose to put myself into.”
Still, the math is getting tougher.
“All the prices have gone up except for the prices of the band,” Drew says. “It’s essentially a conversation that we have to have three times a year — figuring out how to make it work.”
Bandmate Brendan Canning isn’t losing sight of the geopolitical instability driving up fuel costs.
“You’ve got big players taking the lion’s share of the wealth in this world, so the trickle-down effect is that people have to pay more to support the wars. We’re no different than anyone else lining up at the pump.”
Still, for all the financial strain and global anxiety, Canning says the band feels a renewed sense of purpose in hitting the road.
“Whether we’re living in World War III right now, or the war against ourselves, all you can do is be some kind of small messenger,” he says.
“This is ultimately what the band was built upon: Here’s your beacon of hope — one night only, everyone convening under one roof.”
He says that’s why touring, however costly, still matters.
“That’s what music is supposed to do. It’s supposed to be a healing property. So if we’re not out there serving the community en masse, then the goal is a bit lost.”
This report by The Canadian Press was first published May 2, 2026.
