When indie-folk artist Noah Richardson isn’t writing songs or performing for growing crowds across the country, there’s a good chance you’ll find him in an unlikely place: Planet Fitness.
It may not sound glamorous, but Richardson isn’t chasing flashy workouts. He’s chasing consistency.
As his music career continues to gain momentum, the Philadelphia native has discovered that success on stage isn’t all that different from success in the gym. Both require patience, discipline, and a willingness to keep showing up long before the results arrive.
That perspective comes honestly. Richardson grew up around bodybuilding culture thanks to his father and uncle, who introduced him to legends of the sport at an early age.
“I was really big into Dorian Yates,” Richardson tells Muscle & Fitness. “My uncle and my dad were huge into bodybuilding in the ’80s. My uncle was telling me about Dorian Yates and his workout plan, and I wanted to try something different.”
Richardson eventually found himself following Yates’ legendary “Blood and Guts” philosophy, a high-intensity training style centered around pushing sets to failure.
“I really liked the training-to-failure aspect of it,” he says. “I thought it was cool to push myself. And I wasn’t in the gym for so long. I love being in the gym, but I also have stuff to do. It was nice to work really hard and then get out.”
Planet Fitness Is the Unsung Hero of Tour Life
Unlike professional athletes who travel with trainers, chefs, and recovery specialists, most independent musicians have to figure things out as they go. For Noah Richardson, that often means relying on a familiar purple-and-yellow sign.
“Planet Fitness is old reliable,” Richardson says. “Everything’s there. I can get the job done and do everything I need to do.”
While social media often glorifies luxury gyms and elaborate workout routines, Richardson’s reality is much more practical. Between long van rides, late-night load-outs, sleeping on couches, and driving hundreds of miles between shows, consistency matters far more than finding the perfect training environment.
That’s why Planet Fitness has become one of his most trusted tour stops.
“Especially if you’re roughing it and sleeping on couches and stuff,” he explains. “You can go get a shower. You can do all that.”
The gym serves as more than just a place to lift weights. On the road, it provides a sense of normalcy amid the chaos of touring. A workout can help reset both his body and mind before another day of driving, soundchecks, and performances.
Hockey Built Noah Richardson’s Competitive Foundation
Long before music became his full-time focus, Richardson was a hockey kid.
Growing up in the Philadelphia area, he spent much of his childhood on the ice, eventually becoming involved with the hockey foundation established by late Flyers owner Ed Snider. While touring now limits his time on the rink, hockey continues to influence the way he approaches life and music.
“I think sports and weightlifting both taught me that things aren’t going to happen overnight,” Richardson says. “With hard work, you’ll get somewhere.”
That lesson continues to guide him as an independent artist, building a career one song and one show at a time.
“Learning how to skate, learning all those skills, I kind of apply that same work ethic here,” he explains. “I’m learning skills in the studio, learning how to track, learning how to do everything. Practicing and getting in your arena every day is definitely something I carried over.”
Growing Up Around Death Taught Noah Richardson How to Live
Most musicians can trace their perspective on life back to a formative experience. For Noah Richardson, it happened inside a funeral home.
Shannon Nicole
Long before he was touring the country and building an audience through vulnerable indie-folk songs, Richardson grew up around the family funeral business in Philadelphia. While most kids spent their weekends at sporting events or birthday parties, he was witnessing moments most people don’t encounter until much later in life.
And according to Richardson, it gave him a front-row seat to the absolute best and weirdest parts of human nature.
“I’ve seen a lot of crazy stuff,” he says with a laugh. A lot of crazy stuff, we may add.
Over the years, he’s watched grieving family members argue, seen funeral processions turn into celebrations, and witnessed enough bizarre requests to fill an entire album’s worth of stories.
“People would say, ‘I want to be buried with a pack of cigarettes. I want to be buried with a six-pack of Miller Lite,’” Richardson recalls. “And we’d be like, ‘Sure, we can do that.’”
Being raised in Philadelphia only added another layer to the experience.
During the Eagles’ historic Super Bowl run, Richardson remembers services where mourners showed up in Eagles jerseys and celebrated their loved ones with chants usually reserved for Lincoln Financial Field.
“Everyone was wearing Eagles jerseys during the funeral and doing Eagles chants,” he says. “I was like, this is amazing.”
Then there were the moments that could only happen in Philadelphia.
“I’ve seen multiple people try to run and jump into the grave,” he says, laughing.
As bizarre as some of those memories may sound, growing up around loss gave Richardson a perspective few people develop at a young age.
He learned that every person has a story. That life rarely goes according to plan. And that people ultimately want to be remembered for exactly who they were. Quirks, flaws, passions, and all.
Those lessons continue to influence his songwriting today.
The honesty that defines Richardson’s music comes from spending years watching people at their most vulnerable, most emotional, and often most human.
It’s also why he doesn’t seem overly concerned with timelines, trends, or comparisons. Because after seeing what truly matters to people at the end of their lives, he’s learned something many spend decades trying to figure out:
Show up. Work hard. Love your people. And maybe don’t take yourself too seriously.
The rest tends to sort itself out.
Therapy Changed More Than His Mental Health
David Richardson
Richardson’s music has resonated with listeners because of its emotional honesty, but he admits his relationship with songwriting has evolved as he’s invested more in his mental health.
“For a long time, writing was entirely my outlet,” he says. “Then I started going to therapy and seeking professionals.”
The change created an unexpected challenge.
“I found myself thinking, ‘Man, going to therapy didn’t make me a worse songwriter, but I wasn’t completely pouring everything into songs anymore,’” he says. “I was learning healthier ways to deal with some of the things I was dealing with.”
Today, Richardson sees songwriting and therapy as complementary rather than competing forces.
“My favorite writing sessions almost start like therapy sessions,” he explains. “Everyone’s talking about what’s going on in their lives, and that ends up influencing what you create.”
That willingness to process emotions openly extends to life on the road, where Richardson credits his bandmates for helping him navigate the challenges that come with touring.
“Life is still happening when you’re on tour,” he says. “Family stuff, personal stuff, whatever it is. I’m lucky to have good people around me who are good listeners.”
Sleep Is Non-Negotiable
Ask Richardson what has changed most as he’s gotten older, and the answer comes quickly.
Sleep.
“Oh my God, sleep is everything,” he says.
At 27, he’s learned that recovery matters far more than it did in his early twenties.
“I used to be able to stay up until three in the morning and get up and be fine,” he says. “Now that’s not the case.”
That realization has become especially important for protecting his voice. Richardson compares vocal health to strength training. Both require proper technique, recovery, and consistency.
“It took me a really long time to learn proper vocal technique,” he says. “Just like lifting, there are so many different mechanisms involved.”
After performances, he often limits conversations with his bandmates to give his voice time to recover. A difficult task for someone who clearly enjoys the camaraderie of life on the road.
Fueling Up Between Shows
Nutrition remains a work in progress. Richardson laughs when discussing the realities of post-show eating habits.
“You don’t eat all day, and then after the show you’re starving,” he says. “That’s when the $40 Taco Bell order comes into play.”
To keep his protein intake up while traveling, he’s developed a surprisingly practical strategy.
“A 42-gram Core Power, a Barebells protein bar, and one of those lunch meat packs from the gas station,” he says. “That’s like 75 grams of protein right there.”
It’s not a meal plan that would impress a bodybuilding coach, but it’s a system that works while navigating hundreds of miles between venues. For Richardson, that’s what health ultimately comes down to: doing the best you can with what’s available.
Whether he’s training like Dorian Yates, finding a Planet Fitness between tour stops, or learning to balance therapy, creativity, and recovery, Richardson approaches growth the same way he approaches music.
Seana Adame
One day at a time.
And much like the bodybuilders he admires, he’s betting that consistency will eventually take care of the rest.
