Tonight (like most nights) I strolled into my local dive, The Nest on Alberta. On this particular warm Friday night (unlike most nights) there was a band playing. Actually, there was a band not playing at the moment I walked in, they were on a break. But the evidence was abundant that indeed there was to be live entertainment at The Nest tonight. Specifically, a handwritten sign posted at the front door which read "$2 donation for band". I did not obey this sign. My first thought was "I'm a musician: I'm poor" followed by "Oh I guess they are too, how can I expect to earn a buck playing music if I won't pay to see it?" I decided that if I thought the band was good I would pay a couple bucks.
I promptly obtained a Pabst from the barkeep and made my way to the patio, where I typically run into people I barely know and talk about The Blazers or Music or something less important. At some point I noticed the band had resumed. I could hear the muffled sounds of train beat coming from inside. Once I had nursed my Ribbon dry I headed back in for another, and to check out the band. As I reentered I could barely make my way across the room. Suddenly the overfilled bike rack made sense (I actually had to wait for a parking space FOR MY BIKE when I arrived.) It was a Johnny Cash cover band playing "Folsom Prison Blues"
Of course that's the song they would be playing precisely the minute I walked in. And the place was packed with happy drunk girls, ranging from a soft-7 on down, dancing and singing along. Now here's the part that makes me suck: This drove me crazy. My first thought was I wonder how many of these people liked Johnny Cash before it was Cool To Like Johnny Cash (that is, before "Hurt" came out). I concluded none of them. Young people like Johnny Cash for the same reasons that people with no ties to Boston wear Red Sox hats.
I'm not a Johnny Cash fan. That's not to say that I don't like or respect his work, but I own none of his CDs and I never paid much attention to him. People I respect very much musically have named him as a key influence. I even recorded one of his songs for a tribute compilation that never came out. I recognize his greatness and his impact on the music world. But by virtue of the fact that I am not a fan I am totally unqualified to write the following paragraph.
Johnny would probably not be super stoked that a bunch of unintelligent bimbos were singing along to a handful of his more radio-friendly tunes while their Abercrombie and Affliction clad beaus were ordering another round of tequila shots and plotting the next epic Dave show at The Gorge. Or maybe he'd be thrilled by it, who knows. But my gut tells me no genius wants to see his life's work marginalized and distilled down to a handful of "Greatest Hits," played primarily for the purpose of hastening along the procreation of dumb people and thus the demise of our society (see Idiocracy- opening sequence). And the thing which I'm certain would drive Johnny crazy is that these are the very same people who didn't give a shit about him a few years ago. This is the sort of folk who, were Johnny a young up-and-comer today, would not invest even five seconds to ponder his music.
Yesterday I texted a girl, who I guess is a friend but probably won't be for much longer, that I had a few copies of the new Scotland Barr record. The only reason I did this is because I think she is a fan as she came to a lot of shows back in the day and has the other two albums. Plus I'm certain she would love it. Her response was, "I'll pass, but thank you anyway!" (I love the random use of exclamation points, by the way.) I was surprised by this, and fired back, "Wow really? You'd love it, it's a masterpiece. I thought you'd be excited..." Her devastating / enraging response was, "I don't purchase that much music anymore... Really trying to watch my spending, so unless it's close to free... Yah. Sucks being poor" This coming from a person who a) has a job with a Fortune 500 company, b) drives a new car, and c) probably spends between $15 and $50 every day on Starbucks / lunch / happy hour / $2 donations to Johnny Cash cover bands at dive bars.
And this is why our society sucks, or why our society is fine and I am the one who sucks. People say they are poor when clearly they aren't, and will piss through money on all sorts of things that will be consumed and forgotten in a matter of minutes. Yett somehow paying for a CD which cost thousands, if not tens of thousands of dollars to produce is considered a frivolous luxury. Do we really want to live in a world of classic rock stations and repackaged greatest hits albums and crappy cover bands? Are we, as a society, done embracing new art?
So here I am. Up on my high horse, blogging and judging. Who am I? Just a drummer who can (kinda) sing and (attempts to) write songs. If I had approximately 30% fewer braincells and 100% more Tap Out shirts I could be bedding one of those gold digging fairweather Cash fans right now. But instead I'm laying on my couch alone, watching The Larry Sanders Show on Netflix. And publishing blogs which will make a handful of people chuckle and many more people (if they ever read it) say "Nick sucks, no wonder he doesn't have a girlfriend."
Friday, August 5, 2011
Monday, June 13, 2011
Ryan Adams, 9/11, Pop Culture, and Pneumonia
I, like most people who have seen High Fidelity several times, enjoy making top 5 lists. But these lists are not static, they are subject to change. If I were to attempt a definitive, for the ages top 5 Nick's Favorite Albums of All Time list I don't know where to start. Certainly, I'd have to establish a criteria and assign points based various benchmarks. One such benchmark is Number of Times I've Purchased Said Album.
Like great books or great movies, great albums are often purchased many times. I will typically buy a few copies of something I think is wonderful and give them as gifts. Also, I often lend these albums out and never get them back. Hopefully it's because the person enjoyed it so much they want to keep it. But often, I fear, I lend these records to people I hope will enjoy it but in fact they never even play it and it gets lost (see previous entry). Ultimately, after some time has passed, I will have an overwhelming need to hear this album again. So a definitive top 5 list will have several factors, and one of which is certainly number of times purchased.
September 11, 2001, couldn't have happened at a better time in my life. I was 21, working at a camera store, living on my own for the first time, and attempting to play in a band. When I was in my most formative age, America became one for an all too brief period. Suddenly everything meant more, which is to say everything meant what it rightfully should have but up to and including September 10th everything meant less. Nobody stopped to ponder the importance of a sunny day, or hearing a great song for the first time, or The National Anthem, or the beer garden at Oktoberfest.
September 11, 2001, came at a great time for Ryan Adams too. The former Whiskeytown front man had the good fortune of filming a video for his most feel-good radio-ready single to date on September 7th, right in front of the Twin Towers. The song was called New York, New York. It received heavy rotation on MTV (yeah they used to play videos) and Ryan subsequently performed it that winter on Saturday Night Live. Back then, people watched MTV and SNL. I saw that episode of SNL and Ryan and his band really struck a chord with me. The next day, on my lunch break from the camera shop, I was doing what I did on every lunch break- thumbing through every album in the record store. I saw the Ryan Adams album, it was on sale and it came with a 4 track bonus disc. I bought it.
I loved this album so much I lent it to Brian Bergstrom, whom I'd been friends and bandmates with for about a year at that point. Brian didn't love it at first, but he put it in his CD player in his bedroom and played it every night as he fell asleep. This was a whole new sound for both of us. Alt-country. Music by guys only a few years older than us. They had grown up listening to punk rock, but they had also grown up in the South and were thus surrounded by pedal steel guitars and banjos. These were songwriters who had all the angst and anger of someone growing up in the 80s, but also had the musical chops to craft songs with more than just three distorted chords, smashing drums, and bad vocals. Suddenly a genre of music we didn't even know existed a few months prior was changing our lives. Suddenly it made perfect sense to call the girl I knew who played viola and see if she'd like to come jam with us. But this particular blog post is not about that album.
This is about Whiskeytown's masterpiece / obituary, Pneumonia. I just bought this album today for what has to be the 8th time. I was sitting in a Starbucks and Sit and Listen to the Rain came on. Funny how Starbucks is one of the last remaining bastions of good music. Anyhow, since I had lent out my last copy a few years ago, it'd been a long time since I'd heard this song. Suddenly I needed to once again own Pneumonia. Thank God record stores still exist, because this album is far too beautiful to listen to in mp3 form. It was recorded to tape, without computers and patches and autotune. This album sounds like Pet Sounds, but with better lyrics. Horns, mandolins, mallet instruments, lush harmonies, it's got everything and everything fits perfectly. It took U2 five attempts to make The Joshua Tree, but Whiskeytown had done it in three.
In a parallel universe, Whiskeytown hands the finished record to the label, the label believes in it and puts a bunch of promotion behind it, and Whiskeytown fulfill their destiny by becoming the Next Great Band. But in this universe, they finish the album and before it can be released the label folds. The big money is in boy bands, this is 1998 and there's no profit to be made from great songs with real meaning played by musicians. The album rots in a vault somewhere, the band breaks up, and Ryan launches a solo career. Eventually, in 2001, Ryan's new label will release it. But with the band no longer in existence there is no promotion. What few copies it does sell are to pre-existing Whiskeytown fans (of which there weren't enough to keep the whole machine in business in the first place) and to new Ryan fans like me with a suddenly insatiable appetite for more Ryan.
The redeeming value of this universe is that record stores do still exist and that as recently as 10 years ago, record labels still believed in good music enough to pay people to make it and then to press enough copies that the music will always be available. It's not on the rack at Walmart, but if you look you can find it. As recently as 10 years ago, corporations still believed in art enough to spend hundreds of thousands of dollars to put enough copies of it out into the world so that someday, someone making a mix tape for Starbucks could find it.
The best part about great albums is that you listen to them a lot when you first get them. You listen so much that they become the soundtrack for that particular time in your life. You will, no doubt, move on to other albums. And likewise, you will move on to other stations in life. But great albums never disappear forever. And when they suddenly pop back into your head and then into your CD player, you are transported back to that place in time.
Today I am remembering the time when new doors were opened, when lifelong friendships were forged. I was 21, living on my own for the first time, and trying to play in a band. Brian and I, for the first time, had an artist we were both passionate about. Melissa and her viola came along. She and Brian got married. I auditioned for a group that sounded like Whiskeytown (sort of) and I got the gig.
Like great books or great movies, great albums are often purchased many times. I will typically buy a few copies of something I think is wonderful and give them as gifts. Also, I often lend these albums out and never get them back. Hopefully it's because the person enjoyed it so much they want to keep it. But often, I fear, I lend these records to people I hope will enjoy it but in fact they never even play it and it gets lost (see previous entry). Ultimately, after some time has passed, I will have an overwhelming need to hear this album again. So a definitive top 5 list will have several factors, and one of which is certainly number of times purchased.
September 11, 2001, couldn't have happened at a better time in my life. I was 21, working at a camera store, living on my own for the first time, and attempting to play in a band. When I was in my most formative age, America became one for an all too brief period. Suddenly everything meant more, which is to say everything meant what it rightfully should have but up to and including September 10th everything meant less. Nobody stopped to ponder the importance of a sunny day, or hearing a great song for the first time, or The National Anthem, or the beer garden at Oktoberfest.
September 11, 2001, came at a great time for Ryan Adams too. The former Whiskeytown front man had the good fortune of filming a video for his most feel-good radio-ready single to date on September 7th, right in front of the Twin Towers. The song was called New York, New York. It received heavy rotation on MTV (yeah they used to play videos) and Ryan subsequently performed it that winter on Saturday Night Live. Back then, people watched MTV and SNL. I saw that episode of SNL and Ryan and his band really struck a chord with me. The next day, on my lunch break from the camera shop, I was doing what I did on every lunch break- thumbing through every album in the record store. I saw the Ryan Adams album, it was on sale and it came with a 4 track bonus disc. I bought it.
I loved this album so much I lent it to Brian Bergstrom, whom I'd been friends and bandmates with for about a year at that point. Brian didn't love it at first, but he put it in his CD player in his bedroom and played it every night as he fell asleep. This was a whole new sound for both of us. Alt-country. Music by guys only a few years older than us. They had grown up listening to punk rock, but they had also grown up in the South and were thus surrounded by pedal steel guitars and banjos. These were songwriters who had all the angst and anger of someone growing up in the 80s, but also had the musical chops to craft songs with more than just three distorted chords, smashing drums, and bad vocals. Suddenly a genre of music we didn't even know existed a few months prior was changing our lives. Suddenly it made perfect sense to call the girl I knew who played viola and see if she'd like to come jam with us. But this particular blog post is not about that album.
This is about Whiskeytown's masterpiece / obituary, Pneumonia. I just bought this album today for what has to be the 8th time. I was sitting in a Starbucks and Sit and Listen to the Rain came on. Funny how Starbucks is one of the last remaining bastions of good music. Anyhow, since I had lent out my last copy a few years ago, it'd been a long time since I'd heard this song. Suddenly I needed to once again own Pneumonia. Thank God record stores still exist, because this album is far too beautiful to listen to in mp3 form. It was recorded to tape, without computers and patches and autotune. This album sounds like Pet Sounds, but with better lyrics. Horns, mandolins, mallet instruments, lush harmonies, it's got everything and everything fits perfectly. It took U2 five attempts to make The Joshua Tree, but Whiskeytown had done it in three.
In a parallel universe, Whiskeytown hands the finished record to the label, the label believes in it and puts a bunch of promotion behind it, and Whiskeytown fulfill their destiny by becoming the Next Great Band. But in this universe, they finish the album and before it can be released the label folds. The big money is in boy bands, this is 1998 and there's no profit to be made from great songs with real meaning played by musicians. The album rots in a vault somewhere, the band breaks up, and Ryan launches a solo career. Eventually, in 2001, Ryan's new label will release it. But with the band no longer in existence there is no promotion. What few copies it does sell are to pre-existing Whiskeytown fans (of which there weren't enough to keep the whole machine in business in the first place) and to new Ryan fans like me with a suddenly insatiable appetite for more Ryan.
The redeeming value of this universe is that record stores do still exist and that as recently as 10 years ago, record labels still believed in good music enough to pay people to make it and then to press enough copies that the music will always be available. It's not on the rack at Walmart, but if you look you can find it. As recently as 10 years ago, corporations still believed in art enough to spend hundreds of thousands of dollars to put enough copies of it out into the world so that someday, someone making a mix tape for Starbucks could find it.
The best part about great albums is that you listen to them a lot when you first get them. You listen so much that they become the soundtrack for that particular time in your life. You will, no doubt, move on to other albums. And likewise, you will move on to other stations in life. But great albums never disappear forever. And when they suddenly pop back into your head and then into your CD player, you are transported back to that place in time.
Today I am remembering the time when new doors were opened, when lifelong friendships were forged. I was 21, living on my own for the first time, and trying to play in a band. Brian and I, for the first time, had an artist we were both passionate about. Melissa and her viola came along. She and Brian got married. I auditioned for a group that sounded like Whiskeytown (sort of) and I got the gig.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Getting Closer To The Elevator
I can't remember who made this statement, maybe Charles Barkley, but it goes something like "I'm just trying to get to the top so I can send the elevator back down." Sports is a lot like music in that if you are able to perform at the highest level, the benefits are great. You become rich. You become a celebrity. People you don't know read your blogs and follow you on twitter. Actually, this isn't exclusive to sports and music, I suppose no matter what you do, if you do it at a very high level there will be some degree of fame and fortune.
Do I want to be rich and famous? Of course I do. I'm not gonna lie. And by the way, I know plenty of musicians who have no desire to be famous, and even a few who don't want to be rich. But I've never been meager. As far as fame is concerned, to me it would be a validation that the things I have always felt important and worthwhile are recognized by a wide audience. When I was playing with Scotland Barr & The Slow Drags I knew that Scot's songs were so well crafted that it would be a great injustice to the world collective if they did not at some point achieve a wide audience. I may not be able to write great songs myself, but I think I know one when I hear it. If I were moderately famous for some reason, I could tweet or blog about music I thought people should hear and then people would hear it. Plus, it would make talking to girls that much easier. 31 and still lousy at talking to girls...
Level of fame desired: Moderate. If I could one day hope to be as widely known as Bun E Carlos then my life will have been a smashing success. I don't really care if a bunch of 14 year old girls know who I am. But to have accomplished enough in the music world to be known and respected by people in that world, would be a great honor.
Level of riches desired: Low to Moderate. I've lived on nothing for the past couple years. It's not so bad really. But I do feel like if I had just a little bit of financial success, I could set up some nice things for me and anyone else interested in making great music. I've always had great ideas, and ideas take money. The more money I have, the more elevators I can install to send back down.
Anyhow this whole getting closer to the elevator idea is something I've really been focusing on for the past couple of years. If someone were to send The Elevator back down to me, well I'd have to be in The Lobby to catch it. That's kind of what we have going on in Portland right now. The point is to be dialed in to the music scene, to have friends working toward the same goal. I don't really know how many "friends" I have. Facebook would say that number is somewhere in the upper 200s. But I can count on one hand the number of those "friends" who came to any of my shows in the last year.
An old friend of mine made a great point. He said friendships are basically a business relationship; both parties stand to benefit in some way and as soon as one of them no longer benefits the friendship ends. In a related story, I never see or hear from him anymore. This only bothers me a couple times a year, like when I hear about a birthday party or camping trip and wonder why I wasn't invited. But then again, I probably wouldn't have gone anyhow because I really have so little in common with those people now we'd have almost nothing to talk about.
It used to drive me crazy that my friends would never come to my shows. But I realized they're not bad people, they're just not that in to music. How in the world I ended up with a bunch of friends who care so little about something that means so much to me is still a mystery, but it happened. The thing is, I still identified with that crowd much more than with the music crowd for way too long. I grew up in Salem with a pretty conservative, business-minded upbringing. I never considered myself an artist. When I was playing with the aforementioned Drags, I rarely would hang out after the show. I almost went out of my way to avoid getting sucked into the art-music-culture community. This baffles me. I was a fool. Anyhow, too late now but moving forward I know what to do. Gone are the days where I would quickly pack up after a gig and high tail it to some party with a bunch of people who don't care about music.
I've never been a populist, I've always been more of a niche guy. In social gatherings I'm often found off to the side with a small click who gets Simpsons and Spinal Tap references without citation. And if someone said Dane Cook was funny, I would know that I didn't need to talk to that person ever again. But it's different with music. I used to bang my head against the wall trying to explain to people why John Mayer sucks and Ryan Adams is brilliant. Why do I care what they think?
A guy I used to drink beer with, who is actually my Dad's age, once told me why people do drugs. "90% of the time," he said, "it's not fun. But you're trying to recreate that one magical time when it was awesome." So that's why I often catch myself taking up the cause of great music. Because once upon a time there was this girl who basically liked whatever was on the radio, but I could tell that she was smart so I told her about some obscure bands. I even made a few mix tapes. And as near as I could tell it worked. She really liked these new bands. Unless of course she was just paying lip service, which I doubt since she shot down every advance I ever made. But ever since then I've thought that exposing people to The Jayhawks was a worthwhile endeavor. Even if it fails 90% of the time, when it succeeds it's High Fidelity. But a 10% rate of success does not a smart life-plan make. Better to surround myself with people who already like The Jayhawks.
So, being in The Lobby. Getting closer to The Elevator.
I feel like I'm just scratching the surface of this thing we have happening right now in Portland. But it's a great feeling. I know people who are Making It. When I first started writing this blog a couple years ago, it was because I took a long hard look in the mirror. I couldn't pay my rent, I was about to turn 29, and I had hoped to achieve some sort of financial security by the time I was 30. I evaluated all my strengths and weaknesses and was honest with myself, for the first time ever, with what I thought I could actually do long term occupation wise. The only option that made sense was Musician. It seemed the likeliest of all scenarios. But that notion was a hard sell to pretty much everyone else in my life at the time. Now that I am surrounded by folks who are making a go of it, and some who have already succeeded, it validates my notion. Call me crazy, but I'm starting to feel less like if and more like when.
And the best part is, I don't even care when when is. I'll always find a way to make the rent and the car payment and to eat, drink, and be merry. So long as I'm on the path, I'm headed in the right direction. Even if I never get there, the trip will be fun.
Do I want to be rich and famous? Of course I do. I'm not gonna lie. And by the way, I know plenty of musicians who have no desire to be famous, and even a few who don't want to be rich. But I've never been meager. As far as fame is concerned, to me it would be a validation that the things I have always felt important and worthwhile are recognized by a wide audience. When I was playing with Scotland Barr & The Slow Drags I knew that Scot's songs were so well crafted that it would be a great injustice to the world collective if they did not at some point achieve a wide audience. I may not be able to write great songs myself, but I think I know one when I hear it. If I were moderately famous for some reason, I could tweet or blog about music I thought people should hear and then people would hear it. Plus, it would make talking to girls that much easier. 31 and still lousy at talking to girls...
Level of fame desired: Moderate. If I could one day hope to be as widely known as Bun E Carlos then my life will have been a smashing success. I don't really care if a bunch of 14 year old girls know who I am. But to have accomplished enough in the music world to be known and respected by people in that world, would be a great honor.
Level of riches desired: Low to Moderate. I've lived on nothing for the past couple years. It's not so bad really. But I do feel like if I had just a little bit of financial success, I could set up some nice things for me and anyone else interested in making great music. I've always had great ideas, and ideas take money. The more money I have, the more elevators I can install to send back down.
Anyhow this whole getting closer to the elevator idea is something I've really been focusing on for the past couple of years. If someone were to send The Elevator back down to me, well I'd have to be in The Lobby to catch it. That's kind of what we have going on in Portland right now. The point is to be dialed in to the music scene, to have friends working toward the same goal. I don't really know how many "friends" I have. Facebook would say that number is somewhere in the upper 200s. But I can count on one hand the number of those "friends" who came to any of my shows in the last year.
An old friend of mine made a great point. He said friendships are basically a business relationship; both parties stand to benefit in some way and as soon as one of them no longer benefits the friendship ends. In a related story, I never see or hear from him anymore. This only bothers me a couple times a year, like when I hear about a birthday party or camping trip and wonder why I wasn't invited. But then again, I probably wouldn't have gone anyhow because I really have so little in common with those people now we'd have almost nothing to talk about.
It used to drive me crazy that my friends would never come to my shows. But I realized they're not bad people, they're just not that in to music. How in the world I ended up with a bunch of friends who care so little about something that means so much to me is still a mystery, but it happened. The thing is, I still identified with that crowd much more than with the music crowd for way too long. I grew up in Salem with a pretty conservative, business-minded upbringing. I never considered myself an artist. When I was playing with the aforementioned Drags, I rarely would hang out after the show. I almost went out of my way to avoid getting sucked into the art-music-culture community. This baffles me. I was a fool. Anyhow, too late now but moving forward I know what to do. Gone are the days where I would quickly pack up after a gig and high tail it to some party with a bunch of people who don't care about music.
I've never been a populist, I've always been more of a niche guy. In social gatherings I'm often found off to the side with a small click who gets Simpsons and Spinal Tap references without citation. And if someone said Dane Cook was funny, I would know that I didn't need to talk to that person ever again. But it's different with music. I used to bang my head against the wall trying to explain to people why John Mayer sucks and Ryan Adams is brilliant. Why do I care what they think?
A guy I used to drink beer with, who is actually my Dad's age, once told me why people do drugs. "90% of the time," he said, "it's not fun. But you're trying to recreate that one magical time when it was awesome." So that's why I often catch myself taking up the cause of great music. Because once upon a time there was this girl who basically liked whatever was on the radio, but I could tell that she was smart so I told her about some obscure bands. I even made a few mix tapes. And as near as I could tell it worked. She really liked these new bands. Unless of course she was just paying lip service, which I doubt since she shot down every advance I ever made. But ever since then I've thought that exposing people to The Jayhawks was a worthwhile endeavor. Even if it fails 90% of the time, when it succeeds it's High Fidelity. But a 10% rate of success does not a smart life-plan make. Better to surround myself with people who already like The Jayhawks.
So, being in The Lobby. Getting closer to The Elevator.
I feel like I'm just scratching the surface of this thing we have happening right now in Portland. But it's a great feeling. I know people who are Making It. When I first started writing this blog a couple years ago, it was because I took a long hard look in the mirror. I couldn't pay my rent, I was about to turn 29, and I had hoped to achieve some sort of financial security by the time I was 30. I evaluated all my strengths and weaknesses and was honest with myself, for the first time ever, with what I thought I could actually do long term occupation wise. The only option that made sense was Musician. It seemed the likeliest of all scenarios. But that notion was a hard sell to pretty much everyone else in my life at the time. Now that I am surrounded by folks who are making a go of it, and some who have already succeeded, it validates my notion. Call me crazy, but I'm starting to feel less like if and more like when.
And the best part is, I don't even care when when is. I'll always find a way to make the rent and the car payment and to eat, drink, and be merry. So long as I'm on the path, I'm headed in the right direction. Even if I never get there, the trip will be fun.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
It's Been WAY Too Long
Good Lord, I have neglected this blog. Mainly because A) I'm certain nobody ever reads it and B) I've been really busy. But I realized that my email signature has a link to this site, so I figured I'd best put something semi-current up in case someone ever winds up here.
So when I started the goal was to keep a running diary of my progress as I try to find a way to make a living by playing music. I suppose if someone didn't know me and were following this blog (again, highly unlikely) they could take my lack of updates two different ways: Either I am too busy touring with Duran Duran to update, or I gave up and am working at Pizza Hut. Well neither is correct, although I am working (mercifully) at Pizza Hut.
****TANGENT**** Pizza Hut sucks ass and no one should ever work there or eat their food.
The truth is I've been playing my ass off. Still haven't made a dime, but the important lesson is that's okay. I already am a successful musician, because I play music well and sometimes people even watch / listen and enjoy. The most notable development has been my singing ability. I took some lessons and worked real hard and I'm proud to say that I am now a very capable harmony singer. Also I've done a bit of writing. I've always had things to say, and through Trampoline! I've finally found a way to say them.
So for those keeping score at home, I can be found playing in 3 bands:
Bradley Wik & The Charlatans, which just recorded an album which will come out hopefully in a few months
Trampoline!, which just recorded a demo that, while not totally finished, can be found on the intertubes
and Melville, which is a brand new band and we are playing out first show tomorrow night.
I guess that's all for now. I'll try to stay more on top of this thing.
So when I started the goal was to keep a running diary of my progress as I try to find a way to make a living by playing music. I suppose if someone didn't know me and were following this blog (again, highly unlikely) they could take my lack of updates two different ways: Either I am too busy touring with Duran Duran to update, or I gave up and am working at Pizza Hut. Well neither is correct, although I am working (mercifully) at Pizza Hut.
****TANGENT**** Pizza Hut sucks ass and no one should ever work there or eat their food.
The truth is I've been playing my ass off. Still haven't made a dime, but the important lesson is that's okay. I already am a successful musician, because I play music well and sometimes people even watch / listen and enjoy. The most notable development has been my singing ability. I took some lessons and worked real hard and I'm proud to say that I am now a very capable harmony singer. Also I've done a bit of writing. I've always had things to say, and through Trampoline! I've finally found a way to say them.
So for those keeping score at home, I can be found playing in 3 bands:
Bradley Wik & The Charlatans, which just recorded an album which will come out hopefully in a few months
Trampoline!, which just recorded a demo that, while not totally finished, can be found on the intertubes
and Melville, which is a brand new band and we are playing out first show tomorrow night.
I guess that's all for now. I'll try to stay more on top of this thing.
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