For me, working at music always seems to be vexing but ultimately leads to some kind of feeling of fulfillment. Please excuse the indulgence while I use this space as a sort of diary to process some of my recent thoughts and feelings related to music-making.
Probably the biggest thing I've realized lately--and it's taken about eight months to get there--is that my approach to live performance needs to be altered in some way. 2011 conventional wisdom tells aspiring musicians that live performance is the only way to increase your fan base, make money, and become successful. After playing at upward of 10 shows since the new year, I've got mixed feelings. One the one hand, rehearsing some of my more difficult material as single-guitar arrangements has incalculably benefited my instrumental skills and ability to play complex parts and sing at the same time. I've also become somewhat less anxious and nervous about performing (if only a little bit).
On the other hand, it's hard to say that any of the shows have tangibly benefited my progress as a musician who hopes to become better-known. In so many ways, things just haven't gelled: my type of music has little to no established market in the Seattle area, where as far as I can tell people favor a range of music including indie rock, indie pop, indie folk, Americana, "punk," and metal, few of which strongly identify with my style. So, I'll play a bill with singer/songwriters or Americana-type acts and, even though it's just acoustic guitar and vocals, the audience usually just stares blankly, especially if some of the more eccentric songs come out. Speaking of the audience, usually there isn't much of one--a handful of people out to see the other performers, and friends and family (you know who you are), many of whom have been extremely supportive, but I feel they've often taken more of the burden of support than they should have to. Despite warm-and-fuzzy theories that every show is an opportunity to make new fans, after playing around 10 shows, I have yet to sell a single CD, though I've had a few compliments from audience members and more often from other musicians. Though none of my performances have been anywhere near perfect, I feel like I've represented my music and goals fairly well--and yet, it's difficult not to interpret the overwhelming feeling that people aren't connecting with the music as evidence that they think it's not very good.
At the present time, I think my decision to perform solo was probably a miscalculated one. In a hypothetical world where fans I don't personally know come out to see me play, they'd be familiar with my recordings and would appreciate the alternate perspective that stripped-down arrangements provide. In reality, though, my sometimes unconventional songs in conjunction with the sparse arrangements often imply (melodically, structurally, rhythmically, texturally, energetically) instead of directly stating through repetition. While this is a deliberate artistic choice that is still foundational to my approach, I totally understand how someone could come away from a performance and not remember anything about the music or feel that some of the songs were unintelligible. One of many delightful catch-22's is the fact that people dismiss songs that are meant to be growers after one listen. There's also something inherent in audience members' expectations when viewing a solo performer instead of a band--this won't be energetic, it will be mellow, it's not "night out" music, I like rock and this isn't rock, etc. I've thus far avoided playing with a group because of the above miscalculation as well as out of a sort of lazy desire to keep things simple, uncluttered and efficient.
At some point in the last two weeks while practicing for my September 1 show, I felt extremely dissatisfied that I was spending so many hours rehearsing for a performance which would likely net no new fans, rather than working on the amorphous but large blob of new material I've had brewing for well over a year--all so I could sit like a fish out of water in front of an empty room. So, I've decided that, in future performance situations, I'm much more likely to seek the help of one or more other musicians in order to more fully flesh out the songs as well as be taken more seriously by an unfamiliar audience. Even more, a small group would allow me to enjoy the experience much more, not having as much pressure to produce all the sound, and also provide the fun dynamic of playing onstage with friends--a dynamic that will exist whether the room is empty or full. I'm sure I'll still play solo shows but they're more likely to happen at times and places where I know there will be at least a handful of people there who I didn't have to browbeat or plead into coming.
Most importantly and in light of the above experiences, I'm ready to admit that in doing what I'm "supposed" to do (playing live in order to further my "career"), I've moved about as far away as I can from what fascinates me, drives me, and what I love most about making music (in no particular order): writing lyrics, poetry and songs, attempting to compose music for them that is dictated by the words and at the same time enhances and accentuates them but also stands on its own aesthetically, arranging the music for multiple instruments, inventing lead parts that attempt to play with convention and avoid cliché, attempting to stretch myself and grow as a songwriter and incorporate more and newer styles and ideas into every song/experiment opportunity, and especially the thrill of the magical transmutation that happens between mentally planning all of these elements and getting to hear the final product in the form of a recording.
It's with great anticipation and a certain amount of relief that I make this admission and return headlong into my chosen passion. Yesterday I started recording demos of some of my already-determined new songs and I have to say I'm happier than a pig in shit about it. The bizarre composite feeling of compulsion, fascination, disgust, perfectionism, elation, disappointment, surprise, fertility, derangement-verging-on-slight-madness, and restlessness that I felt over a year ago when working on In Not-Even-Anything Land returned virtually instantly and it felt like a warm bath.
Of course, there are still many frustratingly vexed dilemmas relating to the trajectory of me-the-musician as a professional endeavor. I certainly don't reject the idea that live performance is probably the strongest opportunity for success as a musician, but in addition to deeming it not my main focus at present, I also maintain that it's not the only avenue for exposure. This blog has been largely created as an attempt to reach potential interested music fans by writing about related music and posting my creative content in the same place. I've had a really fun time honing my critical skills, sharing music, and watching the readership steadily increase, but the core dilemma persists--how can I best reach my potential audience (which I still believe exists, though it's probably quite diffuse) and convince them to give my music the fair chance and repeated listens that it probably needs in order to be enjoyed? So far, despite my efforts, online CD sales have pretty much mirrored my live performance CD sales--a couple of the most frustrating catch-22's are 1) the fact that people assume that if an artist is unknown that they're not worth checking out, and 2) the fact that most of my potential online audience believes that music recordings should be free and either won't ever hear my music because they don't want to pay for it, or will listen to brief snippets of the songs online (which are intended to be listened to as an album and grow with repeated listens) and dismiss them on first encounter (more on the "music should be free" subject later). I don't have a real answer for this problem at this time; rather, I've decided that I'm committed enough to my creative impulses that I feel like this is worth doing whether anyone supports me or not. Thankfully, I've had a few really heartening interactions with like-minded music fans--this recent review of my album on RYM by a Portuguese music fan with whom I provided a CD confirmed my hopes that there are people out there who will understand a lot of what I'm going for, enjoy the music (even if we differ on a few aesthetic points, which is both natural and constructive), and help spread the word a little bit. It would be really interesting to see what would happen if I could get some traction with a few more music fans like that and spread the word online a little bit more, since independent radio and most of the blogs I've contacted have met with little response.
This diary entry wasn't meant to be a self-pity party, but rather an opportunity to consolidate and process a lot of thoughts I've been having lately about my past year's successes and frustrations. I hope in the future I can improve my reaction time and stay true to my impulses and values without wasting quite as much time between unsatisfactory experiences and keep my focus on efficient production, unfettered connection with the creative wellspring, and on attempting to spread the word and encourage some type of support from potential listeners that will help alleviate the financial burden of funding these pursuits. I'm well on my way with my next project--there are 23 songs on my demo recording list; when I get done with those it's on to intense rehearsal and then to a professional recording studio to build on my last album's accomplishments with a product that's even closer to my vision and of a higher production standard, too!
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