NO NEW YEAR’S EVE GIG: Really disappointing—my preference for celebrating New Year’s, since I don’t drink, is to be playing on stage with a band. I got to do that last year—but I was living in southern Oregon and knew a bar owner who was throwing a private party New Year’s Eve, and inviting only musicians he knew. I don’t have resources like that here on the Coast. (The lesson there is I should create them. Not playing on New Year’s Eve is something that should be added to the “I’ll never do that again” list.) This coming weekend, I should be able to play music Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, though.
I got a message from one of the folks I know and love in southern Oregon, asking, “Dude, when you coming home?” It’s a question I don’t have an answer to. Yet. It does beg the question where home is. Yes, it is probably in southern Oregon. Despite all the hassles with the job (and loss of the job), I was happier there—and accomplished more (the two may be related)—than anywhere else in a long time. I’d move back in a heartbeat. Problem is (being conservative, I tend to see problems) living expenses are so high down there one needs an income to be able to live there. And I don’t have one. (Probably should add being income-less to the “I’ll never do that again” list, too.)
I read a lot of articles (mostly online, because I’m waydam cheap) about writing and promotion; one I ran into recently said one should live where one’s music is popular. I do think the flip side also works: Make sure your music is popular where you live. I have managed to do that the last three places I’ve resided.
Yes, the music is capable of selling itself, I think. (That’s a recent development. A year ago—definitely two years ago—I couldn’t have said that.) The trick is getting it heard. That’s easier some places than others.
One of the things that bothers me about the Oregon Coast is people keep saying The Place to hear live music is Garibaldi City Hall on Friday nights. That’s our Friday Night Group—which I helped put together seven years ago. There’s nothing else? Only a handful of taverns have live music, and often they’re bringing in bands from out of the area. There are no venues for solo artists, paid or unpaid, as near as I can tell. (The one coffeehouse that was doing it went out of business after two devastating floods two years in a row.) And I’m the only writer I know in the area. After living in southern Oregon, where there are writers everywhere (and a lot of good ones), and tons of venues with live music, solo and bands, it all feels very strange.
It is potentially fertile ground, if one can hoe it. One would have to start small, at a coffeehouse or two, start playing regular for tips, promote it heavily, and see what came in the door. Could expand it to include duets (once I found somebody to duet with), like Gene Burnett did in Ashland. Over time—maybe—one could assemble the band, playing festivals first (since there are so many of them here), then taverns (once we had a reputation for drawing a crowd). It would be a long-term project, and I get tired just thinking about it. I would be creating the marketplace at the same time I was doing the marketing, because the marketplace itself does not yet exist.
I am likely to have to do that not only here, but most places I have to move to to work. (If I have to move. A couple of the jobs I’ve applied for are here on the Coast, and I could commute. And it’s very possible I could remain unemployed for a long time, too. There is not a lot of demand for the services of an ex-city manager who’s been out of work for more than nine months.)
While I’m making my future wherever I happen to be, I still need to visit southern Oregon—and figure out a way to do it regularly and easily. I do miss everybody—and devour the local news, and every message I get. Right now, with gas at 2005 prices, I could travel to southern Oregon for less than $200 and have less than half that be fuel cost. It’d be good to do a gig or two while there, though.
I hope most folks aren’t spending quiet New Year’s Eves at home. To all of you within earshot (or eyeshot), whoever and however many of you there are, best wishes for the new year. May 2009 be something you can write happy songs about.
Joe
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Saturday, December 27, 2008
CO-WRITES ON THE ALBUM?
I really don’t know how to approach the Five-Dollar Album. I don’t know if it ought to be all my stuff or include some of the co-writes. I have four songs by other people that I’ve musicated and recorded, plus the “Alphabet Without U” rap where the words were done by me and the “beat” by Jerry Miller (dba zonemusicinc), and the recordings are pretty good; any or all would be good inclusions on an album. The co-writes are:
Alabama Blues, by Diane Ewing
Tune the Strings of My Soul, by Rev. Skip Johnson
Sometimes She Could Scream, by Donna Devine
Simple Questions, by O.R. Vindstad
Why include the co-writes? It’s not like I don’t have enough stuff of my own. Basically, they’re very good (I have high standards where words are concerned); I like what I did with them, and am proud to be associated with them. I like listening to the recordings over and over (good sign), and I figure if they bring tears to my eyes and a catch in my throat, they might do the same for others. (For that reason, I wouldn’t put them all on the same album. Can’t be too serious.) In all cases, they push envelopes, and they make you think—and the latter is the primary purpose of the songs I write myself. They’re marketable—they’re something somebody famous could make a whole lot of money off of. And those writers could really use some attention, even if it’s just the little attention I can generate.
The more I read up on it, the more I think it’s possible to bypass the publishing even on the co-writes. That would be a better deal for the writers; since they’d retain publishing rights, they’d each get 9.1 cents per song per record manufactured, instead of 4.55 cents. The trade-off, I think, is they’d have to take care of registering their own copyrights and sign themselves up with a Performing Rights Organization (BMI is free for writers).
It wouldn’t make a difference in putting the album together. In both cases, I think, there are two songs of mine I’d re-do—I’d want to correct the timing on “Doing Battle with the Lawn,” and I’d really like a harmonica lead on “Armadillo on the Interstate.” I may see “Doc” Wagner at the Saturday thing at the Tillamook Library, and if so will ask him if he’d do it. “Doc,” who used to be my dentist (now retired), is one of the best blues harp players it has ever been my pleasure to know—there’s a lot of talent hiding out here on the Coast.
So maybe what ought to govern the decision is whether the co-authors themselves are willing and interested. I don’t know if they would be. Yes, there’s a little money in it—a very little money. Main thing they’d get out of it is the pat on the back of having somebody who does sell records (me) and has a certain (if small) reputation as a writer wanting their stuff on their (my) album—and they’d be able to tell people they were marketing the stuff to that their song is on an album, and it is selling. And if they’re not interested, well, we go with my stuff.
UPDATES: The Joe Songbook is done, and given away for Christmas (and they liked their present). If I make copies to sell, they’ll have to be black-and-white—color printing is way too expensive. The “Broken Record” CD is still waiting on three songs (of 16), and three photos (of 19), and I have heard from two of the composers warning me they’d be late. Don Varnell was happy with my “musication” of “Another Crappy Christmas” (it does have a melody that’s hard to get out of one’s head).
On the “what’s Joe going to do for a living?” front, I got three rejection letters in one week (great Christmas present), though I do have one interview ten days from now, and may get another (I do tend to be obsessively hopeful). And I have more jobs to apply for. I realize there’s only a tenuous connection between applying for a job and getting interviewed, but I remain obsessively hopeful. One has to, I think.
Joe
Alabama Blues, by Diane Ewing
Tune the Strings of My Soul, by Rev. Skip Johnson
Sometimes She Could Scream, by Donna Devine
Simple Questions, by O.R. Vindstad
Why include the co-writes? It’s not like I don’t have enough stuff of my own. Basically, they’re very good (I have high standards where words are concerned); I like what I did with them, and am proud to be associated with them. I like listening to the recordings over and over (good sign), and I figure if they bring tears to my eyes and a catch in my throat, they might do the same for others. (For that reason, I wouldn’t put them all on the same album. Can’t be too serious.) In all cases, they push envelopes, and they make you think—and the latter is the primary purpose of the songs I write myself. They’re marketable—they’re something somebody famous could make a whole lot of money off of. And those writers could really use some attention, even if it’s just the little attention I can generate.
The more I read up on it, the more I think it’s possible to bypass the publishing even on the co-writes. That would be a better deal for the writers; since they’d retain publishing rights, they’d each get 9.1 cents per song per record manufactured, instead of 4.55 cents. The trade-off, I think, is they’d have to take care of registering their own copyrights and sign themselves up with a Performing Rights Organization (BMI is free for writers).
It wouldn’t make a difference in putting the album together. In both cases, I think, there are two songs of mine I’d re-do—I’d want to correct the timing on “Doing Battle with the Lawn,” and I’d really like a harmonica lead on “Armadillo on the Interstate.” I may see “Doc” Wagner at the Saturday thing at the Tillamook Library, and if so will ask him if he’d do it. “Doc,” who used to be my dentist (now retired), is one of the best blues harp players it has ever been my pleasure to know—there’s a lot of talent hiding out here on the Coast.
So maybe what ought to govern the decision is whether the co-authors themselves are willing and interested. I don’t know if they would be. Yes, there’s a little money in it—a very little money. Main thing they’d get out of it is the pat on the back of having somebody who does sell records (me) and has a certain (if small) reputation as a writer wanting their stuff on their (my) album—and they’d be able to tell people they were marketing the stuff to that their song is on an album, and it is selling. And if they’re not interested, well, we go with my stuff.
UPDATES: The Joe Songbook is done, and given away for Christmas (and they liked their present). If I make copies to sell, they’ll have to be black-and-white—color printing is way too expensive. The “Broken Record” CD is still waiting on three songs (of 16), and three photos (of 19), and I have heard from two of the composers warning me they’d be late. Don Varnell was happy with my “musication” of “Another Crappy Christmas” (it does have a melody that’s hard to get out of one’s head).
On the “what’s Joe going to do for a living?” front, I got three rejection letters in one week (great Christmas present), though I do have one interview ten days from now, and may get another (I do tend to be obsessively hopeful). And I have more jobs to apply for. I realize there’s only a tenuous connection between applying for a job and getting interviewed, but I remain obsessively hopeful. One has to, I think.
Joe
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
PRE-CHRISTMAS UPDATES...
The Oregon Coast has had snow—one of those “never happens here” occurrences—and both the Friday Night Group sessions and the Saturday Thing at the Tillamook Library got cancelled. Well-stocked larder; power’s still on; most of the TV channels work; the regular telephone still makes local calls (no cell service, though); and in my spare time, I can shovel snow—if God doesn’t melt the stuff first. And we only lost the Internet for a day.
THE SONGBOOK turned out to be a bigger project than I thought. It took days. The upgrading of “Alice” the computer 15 months ago to Windows XP destroyed all prior document files (curse you, Bill Gates!)—over half the lyrics that were going to go in the book, in other words; some lyrics I could download from Soundclick and add chords, but a lot of them simply had to be re-typed. Most pre-WinXP photos are gone, too (and I had concert photos going back to 2001). The songbook is 91 pages long, with 60 songs—and even with the losses, a lot of photos. (Found a bunch of photos from the trip to Nashville in 2007 that I’d never run through the photo software.) Found a spare 3-ring binder, too, which was good—those won’t be cheap until the big office-supplies sales in January.
THE “BROKEN RECORD” CD is waiting on just three more songs (of 16), and 3 more photos (out of 19). I’ve given the participants a Christmas deadline. After that, I can decide what order the songs go in, and send them off to Albert for mastering. Artwork and liner notes are pretty much done; just have to plug in the last lyrics and photos. Got more blank CDs—and more of those expensive printer cartridges—when I got out to the store. I believe I have everything else.
ANOTHER SONG “MUSICATED” (that’s a Beth Williams term)—a Don Varnell song hight “Another Crappy Christmas” (being poor and unemployed, I tend to be partial to the darker stuff). Overtones of Kris Kristofferson and Merle Haggard in there, and I did my best to get on tape (or on chip) what I heard in my head, but it took a while before I had something I was satisfied with. Now we’ll see if the author is satisfied, too. (I used Audacity to add fore and aft sleigh bells for that festive touch.) Since I haven’t written a Christmas song myself this year, one by somebody else is going to have to do. (My “Christmas Roadkill” song from a couple of years ago got turned into a music video, though—very impressive. The rabbit-in-the-headlights shot that pops up in the chorus is a nice touch.)
“DEFINITIVE VERSIONS” exist for some of the stuff I’ve done, things I’d be comfortable dropping onto a record because they’re about as technically perfect as I can get: “The Cat with the Strat” done by The Collaborators, “Oil in the Cornfield” with Vikki Flawith and Vic “Mississippi Spud” Bonner, “Hey, Little Chicken” with Dan Doshier, and Diane Ewing’s heart-rending “Alabama Blues” on which I did the music and played all the parts. The first two of those are pretty professionally produced, but the latter two were just done by me on the Tascam.
Most of the rest of my home-recorded songs I would re-do, I think; I can spot flaws in them even if nobody else can. But there is enough just-about-perfect material on hand to produce the Five-Dollar Album, and I probably should do it. It’s a Depression out there, and like Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland used to say, “Let’s put on a show!” I designed a simple cover and label--I scanned a $5 bill (changing the size, of course, so I don’t get in trouble with The Gummint).
Having (or getting—I don’t have it yet) the Five-Dollar Album doesn’t obviate the need to go performing. Playing in public is the only way to showcase my material. What the album does is give me “merch” to sell when I play—as well as an excuse to get the CDBaby account, the Website, and the Publishing Company going. I’d better get to work now.
Joe
THE SONGBOOK turned out to be a bigger project than I thought. It took days. The upgrading of “Alice” the computer 15 months ago to Windows XP destroyed all prior document files (curse you, Bill Gates!)—over half the lyrics that were going to go in the book, in other words; some lyrics I could download from Soundclick and add chords, but a lot of them simply had to be re-typed. Most pre-WinXP photos are gone, too (and I had concert photos going back to 2001). The songbook is 91 pages long, with 60 songs—and even with the losses, a lot of photos. (Found a bunch of photos from the trip to Nashville in 2007 that I’d never run through the photo software.) Found a spare 3-ring binder, too, which was good—those won’t be cheap until the big office-supplies sales in January.
THE “BROKEN RECORD” CD is waiting on just three more songs (of 16), and 3 more photos (out of 19). I’ve given the participants a Christmas deadline. After that, I can decide what order the songs go in, and send them off to Albert for mastering. Artwork and liner notes are pretty much done; just have to plug in the last lyrics and photos. Got more blank CDs—and more of those expensive printer cartridges—when I got out to the store. I believe I have everything else.
ANOTHER SONG “MUSICATED” (that’s a Beth Williams term)—a Don Varnell song hight “Another Crappy Christmas” (being poor and unemployed, I tend to be partial to the darker stuff). Overtones of Kris Kristofferson and Merle Haggard in there, and I did my best to get on tape (or on chip) what I heard in my head, but it took a while before I had something I was satisfied with. Now we’ll see if the author is satisfied, too. (I used Audacity to add fore and aft sleigh bells for that festive touch.) Since I haven’t written a Christmas song myself this year, one by somebody else is going to have to do. (My “Christmas Roadkill” song from a couple of years ago got turned into a music video, though—very impressive. The rabbit-in-the-headlights shot that pops up in the chorus is a nice touch.)
“DEFINITIVE VERSIONS” exist for some of the stuff I’ve done, things I’d be comfortable dropping onto a record because they’re about as technically perfect as I can get: “The Cat with the Strat” done by The Collaborators, “Oil in the Cornfield” with Vikki Flawith and Vic “Mississippi Spud” Bonner, “Hey, Little Chicken” with Dan Doshier, and Diane Ewing’s heart-rending “Alabama Blues” on which I did the music and played all the parts. The first two of those are pretty professionally produced, but the latter two were just done by me on the Tascam.
Most of the rest of my home-recorded songs I would re-do, I think; I can spot flaws in them even if nobody else can. But there is enough just-about-perfect material on hand to produce the Five-Dollar Album, and I probably should do it. It’s a Depression out there, and like Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland used to say, “Let’s put on a show!” I designed a simple cover and label--I scanned a $5 bill (changing the size, of course, so I don’t get in trouble with The Gummint).
Having (or getting—I don’t have it yet) the Five-Dollar Album doesn’t obviate the need to go performing. Playing in public is the only way to showcase my material. What the album does is give me “merch” to sell when I play—as well as an excuse to get the CDBaby account, the Website, and the Publishing Company going. I’d better get to work now.
Joe
Saturday, December 20, 2008
THE GOALS FOR 2009...
Last December, I said in 2008 I wanted to (1) record a new CD, (2) publish, (3) work with a performing band, (4) perform at Moograss, (5) perform at Wheeler and the Harvest Festival, (6) attend Pineyfest, (7) enter two more song contests, and (8) have a CD release party.
I didn’t do that well. 8 songs “in the can” for the CD (1), but I haven’t got back to southern Oregon to do the remaining five. The Harvest Festival was the only planned big gig I made (5), though I did have a few others I didn’t expect, and while I did work with the band Screamin’ Gulch (3), I stopped when I moved out of town. I didn’t win either of the song contests I entered, either (7). No Moograss, no Pineyfest, no CD release party. (Yeah, and no job, and no money, either.) Promotionally, 2008 was pretty much a dud.
Writing was good--I did write more good songs than I expected, and music to a lot more other people’s songs than I expected, and I expanded my versatility, too. Some jazzy stuff; some folk-rock; a rap (who’da thunk?)—and Norwegian Black/Death Metal. And I do get to play lead guitar pretty consistently, now, wherever I go. So it’s not all bad. It just hasn’t been all good.
So the Five-Year Plan says 2009 is going to be the Year of the Exposure. How do we do it? Where do I want to see myself at the end of 2009?
By this time next year, (1) I want to be better known. (2) I want to have the publishing company, and have somebody besides me as a client. (3) I want to have another CD out, and be selling it in more stores and also on line. (4) I want to go to Nashville again, and this time have a couple of “writer’s night” performances while I’m there. (5) I want to have more sophisticated recording equipment before another year is out. And (6) I want to be doing video.
So that means the Work List is going to look like:
PERFORM MORE—at least once a week. Open mikes if I don’t have a regular gig lined up. Help put on a couple of those festivals—one way to ensure I get to play.
The PUBLISHING COMPANY. Join BMI as writer and publisher, register with the Harry Fox Agency, buy local business license. Sign up a couple of my co-writers for a couple of their songs. Establish that contact list of regionally famous people looking for material.
The FIVE-DOLLAR ALBUM. With a dozen of the best home-studio recordings, including a couple of the co-writes (which is why we need the publishing Company).
The JOE WEBSITE & CD-BABY ACCOUNT. This allows the new album to be sold online as well as The Usual Retail Outlets. CDBaby sells the barcode for pretty cheap, too.
A WEEK IN NASHVILLE. Ideally, while Pineyfest 2009 is going on. Line up a couple of writer’s night appearances in advance.
FIND OR CREATE A BAND. To record the next album, and to play concerts. Work on assembling a cadre of “impromptu band” musicians, too.
SONG CONTESTS–four in 2009 would be good--concentrating as in the past on contests where “entry” entails performing on stage. Plan on one being out of the area—breaking into somewhere new.
UPGRADE THE RECORDING EQUIPMENT. I want something that will record more than 4 tracks, and more than one song at a time. Learn video, and interface it with the sound stuff.
Finish the SOUTHERN PIGFISH album. They can be my experiment at doing both video and a flash-drive album.
And STAY IN TOUCH WITH EVERYBODY. I know a lot of people in a lot of places now, and I don’t want to lose track of a single one of ‘em.
Same WRITING goals as before: I want to be doing an average of one good song a month, plus music for roughly a dozen other-people songs. And push the versatility envelope some more, too. Since I’ve managed to be pretty consistent at this, I may not need to “goal” it—but I’ll be upset with myself if I don’t meet it.
I guess I’m ready for 2009. Bring it on.
Joe
I didn’t do that well. 8 songs “in the can” for the CD (1), but I haven’t got back to southern Oregon to do the remaining five. The Harvest Festival was the only planned big gig I made (5), though I did have a few others I didn’t expect, and while I did work with the band Screamin’ Gulch (3), I stopped when I moved out of town. I didn’t win either of the song contests I entered, either (7). No Moograss, no Pineyfest, no CD release party. (Yeah, and no job, and no money, either.) Promotionally, 2008 was pretty much a dud.
Writing was good--I did write more good songs than I expected, and music to a lot more other people’s songs than I expected, and I expanded my versatility, too. Some jazzy stuff; some folk-rock; a rap (who’da thunk?)—and Norwegian Black/Death Metal. And I do get to play lead guitar pretty consistently, now, wherever I go. So it’s not all bad. It just hasn’t been all good.
So the Five-Year Plan says 2009 is going to be the Year of the Exposure. How do we do it? Where do I want to see myself at the end of 2009?
By this time next year, (1) I want to be better known. (2) I want to have the publishing company, and have somebody besides me as a client. (3) I want to have another CD out, and be selling it in more stores and also on line. (4) I want to go to Nashville again, and this time have a couple of “writer’s night” performances while I’m there. (5) I want to have more sophisticated recording equipment before another year is out. And (6) I want to be doing video.
So that means the Work List is going to look like:
PERFORM MORE—at least once a week. Open mikes if I don’t have a regular gig lined up. Help put on a couple of those festivals—one way to ensure I get to play.
The PUBLISHING COMPANY. Join BMI as writer and publisher, register with the Harry Fox Agency, buy local business license. Sign up a couple of my co-writers for a couple of their songs. Establish that contact list of regionally famous people looking for material.
The FIVE-DOLLAR ALBUM. With a dozen of the best home-studio recordings, including a couple of the co-writes (which is why we need the publishing Company).
The JOE WEBSITE & CD-BABY ACCOUNT. This allows the new album to be sold online as well as The Usual Retail Outlets. CDBaby sells the barcode for pretty cheap, too.
A WEEK IN NASHVILLE. Ideally, while Pineyfest 2009 is going on. Line up a couple of writer’s night appearances in advance.
FIND OR CREATE A BAND. To record the next album, and to play concerts. Work on assembling a cadre of “impromptu band” musicians, too.
SONG CONTESTS–four in 2009 would be good--concentrating as in the past on contests where “entry” entails performing on stage. Plan on one being out of the area—breaking into somewhere new.
UPGRADE THE RECORDING EQUIPMENT. I want something that will record more than 4 tracks, and more than one song at a time. Learn video, and interface it with the sound stuff.
Finish the SOUTHERN PIGFISH album. They can be my experiment at doing both video and a flash-drive album.
And STAY IN TOUCH WITH EVERYBODY. I know a lot of people in a lot of places now, and I don’t want to lose track of a single one of ‘em.
Same WRITING goals as before: I want to be doing an average of one good song a month, plus music for roughly a dozen other-people songs. And push the versatility envelope some more, too. Since I’ve managed to be pretty consistent at this, I may not need to “goal” it—but I’ll be upset with myself if I don’t meet it.
I guess I’m ready for 2009. Bring it on.
Joe
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
A JOE SONGBOOK?
The suggestion was made that I produce a songbook of my stuff. It’s not a bad idea. I made a list (for I am good at lists), and if I go back to the beginning, to the first good song I ever wrote, there are 62 of them—definitely a book’s worth.
It’d actually be fairly easy to do. Lyrics for most of the songs are in “Alice” the computer’s brain, already in a standard format with chords and chord changes; I could add photographs—got plenty of appropriate ones—title page, index, and a few tidbits (maybe a discography), and it’d be a nice product. I wouldn’t include sheet music; producing that in professional-looking form would take software I don’t have, and don’t want to invest in just yet. It’d be chords only, just like a lot of “Greatest Hits” songbooks.
I could do all the printing at home (though if it became a popular item, I’d have to hire that out). I’d package it in a narrow 3-ring binder, I think; the likely end-users of the product would be musicians, and those who use music stands like books they can flip open and have the pages lay flat.
Since I’m out of money and on the make, I have to look at this as a business venture—something else Outside Services The Publishing Company could do. Could the songbook be sold for a price that would recover its cost and turn a profit? Maybe. Figure a dollar for the binder and another dollar for the paper, and figure my design work is going to be recompensed by the profit; a $5.00 price tag would work only if I could keep the printing cost down. I might have to invest in a different printer—the one I have uses very expensive cartridges that don’t last very long. I’ll make a couple songbooks as an experiment, and give them to a couple of friends for Christmas. If they like it, and show it around to friends who want one, I can say, “Well, tell you what I could do…”
I think I have not done a very good job of self-promotion. For the past several years, I think, I haven’t worried about it. I had a job, and music could be a hobby; I could make sure it supported itself, except for the trip every other year to Nashville for the Pineyfest songwriters’ conference, and it mostly did. (The “Santa’s Fallen” CD has paid for itself a few times over now, and that’s a real hopeful sign.) The last time I really had to hustle to bring in business was when I had my own business; it was officially a graphic-design business, but I did everything, from accounting to freelance writing. It took about three years for the business to start turning a profit, but it did, and after a while, I could rely on a lot of my work being jobs for repeat customers. I need to do that again, with the music business.
That means if I do something that can be sold later (like the songbook) for less than production costs, I make some extra copies, and advertise it. Shouldn’t tell myself “nobody’s going to want this”—that’s a decision for the market, not me. If nobody wants it, I just don’t mention it any more, just like the songs that nobody requests again. Right now, I can promote to the “joelist” and in MySpace “bulletins,” and (to the extent anyone reads it) mention it in the blog. I am going to need that Website. “Walking advertisement” T-shirts and sweatshirts aren’t a bad idea, either; I’ve done them for other folks—why not myself?
Craigslist? No, not to sell the songbook, or even CDs—the market for my stuff is going to be to people who’ve heard me, or heard about me; that’s how it’s always been, and likely to be. My own “band wanted” ads on craigslist haven’t gotten a response, and virtually nobody’s acknowledged my answers to their ads, either. (The Taiwanese techno-pop dude was a neat exception.) That doesn’t mean craigslist is useless, however—only that I haven’t learned how to use it effectively. It has cut into newspaper ad revenue enough to force a lot of papers to cut back in size; it or something like it is going to be around for a while.
I did see a lot of Portland venues advertising open mikes on craigslist. That’s not something I can take advantage of right away—Portland is 90 miles away, after all, and it’s winter, making the Coast Range a difficult trek at best. And I don’t know where I might land jobwise (if I land anywhere at all). But it’s something to watch—and I bet open mikes are advertised on craigslist in other towns, too. Open mikes have been my biggest source of notoriety—and of paying gigs.
Joe
It’d actually be fairly easy to do. Lyrics for most of the songs are in “Alice” the computer’s brain, already in a standard format with chords and chord changes; I could add photographs—got plenty of appropriate ones—title page, index, and a few tidbits (maybe a discography), and it’d be a nice product. I wouldn’t include sheet music; producing that in professional-looking form would take software I don’t have, and don’t want to invest in just yet. It’d be chords only, just like a lot of “Greatest Hits” songbooks.
I could do all the printing at home (though if it became a popular item, I’d have to hire that out). I’d package it in a narrow 3-ring binder, I think; the likely end-users of the product would be musicians, and those who use music stands like books they can flip open and have the pages lay flat.
Since I’m out of money and on the make, I have to look at this as a business venture—something else Outside Services The Publishing Company could do. Could the songbook be sold for a price that would recover its cost and turn a profit? Maybe. Figure a dollar for the binder and another dollar for the paper, and figure my design work is going to be recompensed by the profit; a $5.00 price tag would work only if I could keep the printing cost down. I might have to invest in a different printer—the one I have uses very expensive cartridges that don’t last very long. I’ll make a couple songbooks as an experiment, and give them to a couple of friends for Christmas. If they like it, and show it around to friends who want one, I can say, “Well, tell you what I could do…”
I think I have not done a very good job of self-promotion. For the past several years, I think, I haven’t worried about it. I had a job, and music could be a hobby; I could make sure it supported itself, except for the trip every other year to Nashville for the Pineyfest songwriters’ conference, and it mostly did. (The “Santa’s Fallen” CD has paid for itself a few times over now, and that’s a real hopeful sign.) The last time I really had to hustle to bring in business was when I had my own business; it was officially a graphic-design business, but I did everything, from accounting to freelance writing. It took about three years for the business to start turning a profit, but it did, and after a while, I could rely on a lot of my work being jobs for repeat customers. I need to do that again, with the music business.
That means if I do something that can be sold later (like the songbook) for less than production costs, I make some extra copies, and advertise it. Shouldn’t tell myself “nobody’s going to want this”—that’s a decision for the market, not me. If nobody wants it, I just don’t mention it any more, just like the songs that nobody requests again. Right now, I can promote to the “joelist” and in MySpace “bulletins,” and (to the extent anyone reads it) mention it in the blog. I am going to need that Website. “Walking advertisement” T-shirts and sweatshirts aren’t a bad idea, either; I’ve done them for other folks—why not myself?
Craigslist? No, not to sell the songbook, or even CDs—the market for my stuff is going to be to people who’ve heard me, or heard about me; that’s how it’s always been, and likely to be. My own “band wanted” ads on craigslist haven’t gotten a response, and virtually nobody’s acknowledged my answers to their ads, either. (The Taiwanese techno-pop dude was a neat exception.) That doesn’t mean craigslist is useless, however—only that I haven’t learned how to use it effectively. It has cut into newspaper ad revenue enough to force a lot of papers to cut back in size; it or something like it is going to be around for a while.
I did see a lot of Portland venues advertising open mikes on craigslist. That’s not something I can take advantage of right away—Portland is 90 miles away, after all, and it’s winter, making the Coast Range a difficult trek at best. And I don’t know where I might land jobwise (if I land anywhere at all). But it’s something to watch—and I bet open mikes are advertised on craigslist in other towns, too. Open mikes have been my biggest source of notoriety—and of paying gigs.
Joe
Sunday, December 14, 2008
A FIVE DOLLAR ALBUM?
I put together a Christmas album for a couple of friends, and it didn’t turn out bad. I’d concentrated on songs I knew they hadn’t heard yet (and I last saw them Labor Day weekend). The record’s got:
Crosses by the Roadside
The Strange Saga of Quoth, the Parrot
Vampire Roumanian Babies
I Broke My Girlfriend
Doing Battle with the Lawn
Simple Questions (by O.R. Vindstad)
Alphabet Without U—A Rap (“beat” by Jerry Miller)
Sometimes She Could Scream (by Donna Devine)
For Their Own Ends (Southern Pigfish title cut)
Chipmunks Roasting on an Open Fire (collab. with my daughter Kimberly)
Wide range of styles in those ten songs, from Buddy Holly-style rock ‘n’ roll to rap to “traditional” country to a sort of jazz to that kind of bluegrass music popular in the 1940s. A few serious songs (only one written by me), and some that are anything but. What’s surprising is how well it all fits together. It’s not a bad “here’s what Joe can do” sampler.
Does prompt the question whether I could really produce a saleable album like this. I think the answer is “probably.” Most of the recordings have flaws of one sort or another, but they’re still good, listenable stuff; “Doing Battle with the Lawn” is the only one I’d re-do. There are a couple I might add.
Wherewith, an idea. What about an album of songs produced entirely on the Tascam, with whatever I can squeeze out of four tracks? A lot of my material works well with a sparse arrangement, because I wrote it to be performed solo; where I need a band, I actually may have one. I know somebody who plays bass, and somebody who plays lead electric guitar, and they’re both good, and there are a couple of harmonica players around here who are really good. With four tracks, I can do rhythm guitar, vocal, bass and one lead instrument, and mix it all on the Tascam. It’d do until I have better equipment.
I’ve proposed to other writers the idea that economic hard times may present an opportunity. There was a big demand for entertainment in the Great Depression; it had to be cheap, but there had to be a lot of it. That’s a niche independent musicians and writers can fill way better than the big record companies can (in fact, the big record companies may die off because they can’t comprehend “cheap,” and have been more concerned with preserving a monopoly than actually providing entertainment). So ignore them. What can I offer? And how can I get it to market?
If I produced an album on my own primitive equipment, with just me and maybe a few friends playing all the parts, mixed by a tone-deaf sound engineer (me), I wouldn’t feel comfortable charging market rate for it. How about five bucks instead? If I did all the work myself, manufacturing the copies on my old CD burner, I could keep the manufacturing cost down to about $2 per. The $3 “profit” would be recompense for my time (and the marketing costs). Could even call it “The Five-Dollar Album.”
What about the co-writes? There are three on that list, and I’d like to include them because the lyrics (for two of them) and music (the third) are really very good. The Publishing Company is going to need to be active to do that. The material needs to be copyrighted (two of the authors are foreign, and one’s in Chicago), and the Company needs to have an agreement under which the Company has the publishing rights, but they’re assignable at the direction of the authors. Need to talk to the authors—I don’t know to what extent they’ve thought about this. And there’s that investment of money I’ve been avoiding making.
Alternatively, the album—like the last one—would have to include just my stuff, in which event I wouldn’t have to worry about the paperwork, because I’d only be dealing with me. However, if I wanted any of the stuff on the radio, it’d still have to be published, and I’d still need to make the investment in the Company. I may not be able to avoid it.
Joe
Crosses by the Roadside
The Strange Saga of Quoth, the Parrot
Vampire Roumanian Babies
I Broke My Girlfriend
Doing Battle with the Lawn
Simple Questions (by O.R. Vindstad)
Alphabet Without U—A Rap (“beat” by Jerry Miller)
Sometimes She Could Scream (by Donna Devine)
For Their Own Ends (Southern Pigfish title cut)
Chipmunks Roasting on an Open Fire (collab. with my daughter Kimberly)
Wide range of styles in those ten songs, from Buddy Holly-style rock ‘n’ roll to rap to “traditional” country to a sort of jazz to that kind of bluegrass music popular in the 1940s. A few serious songs (only one written by me), and some that are anything but. What’s surprising is how well it all fits together. It’s not a bad “here’s what Joe can do” sampler.
Does prompt the question whether I could really produce a saleable album like this. I think the answer is “probably.” Most of the recordings have flaws of one sort or another, but they’re still good, listenable stuff; “Doing Battle with the Lawn” is the only one I’d re-do. There are a couple I might add.
Wherewith, an idea. What about an album of songs produced entirely on the Tascam, with whatever I can squeeze out of four tracks? A lot of my material works well with a sparse arrangement, because I wrote it to be performed solo; where I need a band, I actually may have one. I know somebody who plays bass, and somebody who plays lead electric guitar, and they’re both good, and there are a couple of harmonica players around here who are really good. With four tracks, I can do rhythm guitar, vocal, bass and one lead instrument, and mix it all on the Tascam. It’d do until I have better equipment.
I’ve proposed to other writers the idea that economic hard times may present an opportunity. There was a big demand for entertainment in the Great Depression; it had to be cheap, but there had to be a lot of it. That’s a niche independent musicians and writers can fill way better than the big record companies can (in fact, the big record companies may die off because they can’t comprehend “cheap,” and have been more concerned with preserving a monopoly than actually providing entertainment). So ignore them. What can I offer? And how can I get it to market?
If I produced an album on my own primitive equipment, with just me and maybe a few friends playing all the parts, mixed by a tone-deaf sound engineer (me), I wouldn’t feel comfortable charging market rate for it. How about five bucks instead? If I did all the work myself, manufacturing the copies on my old CD burner, I could keep the manufacturing cost down to about $2 per. The $3 “profit” would be recompense for my time (and the marketing costs). Could even call it “The Five-Dollar Album.”
What about the co-writes? There are three on that list, and I’d like to include them because the lyrics (for two of them) and music (the third) are really very good. The Publishing Company is going to need to be active to do that. The material needs to be copyrighted (two of the authors are foreign, and one’s in Chicago), and the Company needs to have an agreement under which the Company has the publishing rights, but they’re assignable at the direction of the authors. Need to talk to the authors—I don’t know to what extent they’ve thought about this. And there’s that investment of money I’ve been avoiding making.
Alternatively, the album—like the last one—would have to include just my stuff, in which event I wouldn’t have to worry about the paperwork, because I’d only be dealing with me. However, if I wanted any of the stuff on the radio, it’d still have to be published, and I’d still need to make the investment in the Company. I may not be able to avoid it.
Joe
Thursday, December 11, 2008
MORE ON THE FIVE-YEAR PLAN...
While assembling the list of 2009 Goals, I noticed a lot of them looked the same as last year. Finish the album; do another one. Enter more contests I can win. Find or create a band. Spend a week in Nashville. Continue writing an average of at least one good song a month.
There’s the operative word—CONTINUE. These are just incremental upgrades of what I’ve already been doing. The operative QUESTION is how those fit in with the Five-Year Plan, and whather I ought to be thinking them differently.
The end result I’m after is success as a writer. Five years from now, I want enough people recording and performing my songs on enough of scale that I can be making half my income off it. To accomplish that, I have to be well-enough known to be in demand. To become well-enough known, I have to perform: the primary means I’ve got to showcase my material—and my ability to write more—is to play it in public. Performance, in other words, is a means to an end.
Given that, next year’s goals should be EXPOSURE goals. It may not change what I do a lot, just how I think about them. An album? Sure—but what I need to do with it is have more copies pressed than last time, and have more places to sell it. Not just more gigs, but a CDBaby account, too, and racks in more retail stores. More gigs? Of course—and it doesn’t necessarily matter whether they’re paying gigs right now. More gigs in more places is more exposure.
Better recording equipment, too, because of what I want to do with it. With a DAW (Digital Audio Workstation—that’s what the little Tascam is) that can record more tracks and more songs at a time, I can better do favors for people—I can help them showcase their material better. That I did music for 12 songs this year by seven different lyricists is evidence I’ve already got better known—and I’ll be even better known as a result. Get the video camera working, too; I need some performance video of me for gig-getting purposes—and if it works, it’s something I can do for others, too.
And the publishing company. There, I know what I have to do, I think; it simply needs to get done. Like the video camera, the publishing company is a tool—a key that unlocks a door I couldn’t otherwise get through. Should I try to get other clients besides myself? That’s a big unknown at this point—but if I can establish a good enough set of contacts to benefit me, it may work for others, too. That’s an item that needs to be added to the list: Get to know more publishers. (Something to do on next year’s trip to Nashville.) Work on that list of regionally famous people needing good material, too.
Staying in touch with people is important, too, though a lot of work. Right now, I’ve “cells” of folks I know in southern Oregon, Eastern Oregon, and the Oregon Coast, and I need to do a better job of hanging out with all of them. Wherever a job lands me, I’m going to end up with more people to stay in touch with, and I need a way to do it easily and personally. I could end up traveling a lot in whatever spare time I have. I also know scattered individuals across the U.S. and Canada, some of whom I have yet to meet in person—and I want to. How do I manage that?
UPDATES: My resume is still circling the globe, and hasn’t landed many places yet; only one of the jobs I’ve applied for is within commuting distance—the rest would entail me relocating. Interviews for most of them, if they happen, won’t happen until January. In the meantime, I have a couple of House Projects to do, the “Broken Record” to finish, plus Dick and Carol’s Christmas album to do; the Saturday Thing at the Tillamook library starts this weekend, and I need to put up a new “band wanted” ad on craigslist—the last one got virtually no response at all, and I do want a band.
Joe
There’s the operative word—CONTINUE. These are just incremental upgrades of what I’ve already been doing. The operative QUESTION is how those fit in with the Five-Year Plan, and whather I ought to be thinking them differently.
The end result I’m after is success as a writer. Five years from now, I want enough people recording and performing my songs on enough of scale that I can be making half my income off it. To accomplish that, I have to be well-enough known to be in demand. To become well-enough known, I have to perform: the primary means I’ve got to showcase my material—and my ability to write more—is to play it in public. Performance, in other words, is a means to an end.
Given that, next year’s goals should be EXPOSURE goals. It may not change what I do a lot, just how I think about them. An album? Sure—but what I need to do with it is have more copies pressed than last time, and have more places to sell it. Not just more gigs, but a CDBaby account, too, and racks in more retail stores. More gigs? Of course—and it doesn’t necessarily matter whether they’re paying gigs right now. More gigs in more places is more exposure.
Better recording equipment, too, because of what I want to do with it. With a DAW (Digital Audio Workstation—that’s what the little Tascam is) that can record more tracks and more songs at a time, I can better do favors for people—I can help them showcase their material better. That I did music for 12 songs this year by seven different lyricists is evidence I’ve already got better known—and I’ll be even better known as a result. Get the video camera working, too; I need some performance video of me for gig-getting purposes—and if it works, it’s something I can do for others, too.
And the publishing company. There, I know what I have to do, I think; it simply needs to get done. Like the video camera, the publishing company is a tool—a key that unlocks a door I couldn’t otherwise get through. Should I try to get other clients besides myself? That’s a big unknown at this point—but if I can establish a good enough set of contacts to benefit me, it may work for others, too. That’s an item that needs to be added to the list: Get to know more publishers. (Something to do on next year’s trip to Nashville.) Work on that list of regionally famous people needing good material, too.
Staying in touch with people is important, too, though a lot of work. Right now, I’ve “cells” of folks I know in southern Oregon, Eastern Oregon, and the Oregon Coast, and I need to do a better job of hanging out with all of them. Wherever a job lands me, I’m going to end up with more people to stay in touch with, and I need a way to do it easily and personally. I could end up traveling a lot in whatever spare time I have. I also know scattered individuals across the U.S. and Canada, some of whom I have yet to meet in person—and I want to. How do I manage that?
UPDATES: My resume is still circling the globe, and hasn’t landed many places yet; only one of the jobs I’ve applied for is within commuting distance—the rest would entail me relocating. Interviews for most of them, if they happen, won’t happen until January. In the meantime, I have a couple of House Projects to do, the “Broken Record” to finish, plus Dick and Carol’s Christmas album to do; the Saturday Thing at the Tillamook library starts this weekend, and I need to put up a new “band wanted” ad on craigslist—the last one got virtually no response at all, and I do want a band.
Joe
Monday, December 8, 2008
A FIVE-YEAR PLAN?
I have another out-of-town job interview next week (first one in a while), so I get to fantasize (again) about what it’d be like living in a new place.
Musically, I think they all follow a set pattern. If there’s somebody I know living in the area (and I would in this case—I know a lot of people), I get in touch with them. I want to find out if there are any open mikes, and any jam sessions; I’ll make sure to go. If there’s an organized group of songwriters, I’ll join; if there’s an organized group of musicians, like the Blue Mountain Fiddlers, I’ll join that, too. Creates a quick network of local musicians to play with, and a quick start of places to play, that I can build on. It’s easier than starting from scratch. If those things don’t exist (and in some of the places I’ve looked at moving to, they don’t), I do have to start from scratch. I’ve done that, too. It just takes longer.
In all cases, I want to expand the number of places I can play (and it’s nice if some of them are paying gigs); I want to expand or create the local fan base; and I want a band. What I managed to find in my last two “incarnations” are impromptu “bands” of very good musicians able and willing to assemble on short notice to be “Joe’s Band” for concerts or an album, and that really did work out well; it was the musical equivalent of “regular sex partner with minimal commitment” instead of a marriage, and it may not be possible to do everywhere. If I have to be part of a regularly practicing and performing band, so be it. I’ve done that, too.
One thing I can add to this year’s list of accomplishments is something I didn’t expect: I will have produced an album, from start to finish—the “Broken Record” project. If I were doing a commercial venture, there are some things I’d hire out (like making the CDs—since there will only be 16 copies instead of thousands, I’ll do it on my old, slow CD burner)—but I’m getting to see, and do, every step of the process. If I get to do Dick and Carol’s Christmas album, I’ll have done two. And Outside Services Ltd. The Record Company may not seem such a far-out possibility.
Songwriter Vikki Flawith was advocating recently the need for a Five-Year Plan, and it’s a good idea. I have, with my New Year’s Goals, gone just year to year, and that doesn’t tell me how what I’m accomplishing (or not accomplishing) fits into The Larger Picture. Where do I want to be in five years? Absent that depth of vision, efforts can easily get scattered; I run up against the proverb of a former boss of mine, back when I was a lobbyist: “Never confuse motion with progress.”
A compromise, then—something I did with one of the cities I worked for. Let’s have a Five-Year Plan, but update it every year. We can reflect changed conditions, but also lop off the list things we’ve accomplished, and add new things. It becomes a “living” document—we are always thinking five years out from where we’re at.
Five years from now is (like the old song says) when I’m 64. I’ll still be working, but I’ll be a year away from retirement. My idea of “retirement” still has me working half the year—probably interim city-manager gigs, for which I’ll need that degree—and playing music the other half. No interest, really, in being one of those Nashville stars, but I’d like to be regionally famous, playing gigs and selling records in sufficient quantity to more than pay for my “habit.” I’d like my songs to be in demand; I want, in other words, to have people who are better’n I am recording my stuff. I want my publishing company to be in a position to handle the placements—and placements of other people’s stuff, too, that I’ve done music for. And for that, I need better notoriety.
There, as Ronald Reagan used to say, is “the city on the hill.” Having envisioned the city on the hill, one can next envision how to get there. How does what I’ve done fit into or further that vision? And what do I do next?
UPDATE: Cover art is done for the “Broken Record” project, and I’ve typeset the songs I already have recordings for, that I know aren’t going to change. I don’t think I can decide what order they go in until I have all of the recordings in hand, and can hear ‘em. Still waiting on photos from a good two-thirds of the people.
Joe
Musically, I think they all follow a set pattern. If there’s somebody I know living in the area (and I would in this case—I know a lot of people), I get in touch with them. I want to find out if there are any open mikes, and any jam sessions; I’ll make sure to go. If there’s an organized group of songwriters, I’ll join; if there’s an organized group of musicians, like the Blue Mountain Fiddlers, I’ll join that, too. Creates a quick network of local musicians to play with, and a quick start of places to play, that I can build on. It’s easier than starting from scratch. If those things don’t exist (and in some of the places I’ve looked at moving to, they don’t), I do have to start from scratch. I’ve done that, too. It just takes longer.
In all cases, I want to expand the number of places I can play (and it’s nice if some of them are paying gigs); I want to expand or create the local fan base; and I want a band. What I managed to find in my last two “incarnations” are impromptu “bands” of very good musicians able and willing to assemble on short notice to be “Joe’s Band” for concerts or an album, and that really did work out well; it was the musical equivalent of “regular sex partner with minimal commitment” instead of a marriage, and it may not be possible to do everywhere. If I have to be part of a regularly practicing and performing band, so be it. I’ve done that, too.
One thing I can add to this year’s list of accomplishments is something I didn’t expect: I will have produced an album, from start to finish—the “Broken Record” project. If I were doing a commercial venture, there are some things I’d hire out (like making the CDs—since there will only be 16 copies instead of thousands, I’ll do it on my old, slow CD burner)—but I’m getting to see, and do, every step of the process. If I get to do Dick and Carol’s Christmas album, I’ll have done two. And Outside Services Ltd. The Record Company may not seem such a far-out possibility.
Songwriter Vikki Flawith was advocating recently the need for a Five-Year Plan, and it’s a good idea. I have, with my New Year’s Goals, gone just year to year, and that doesn’t tell me how what I’m accomplishing (or not accomplishing) fits into The Larger Picture. Where do I want to be in five years? Absent that depth of vision, efforts can easily get scattered; I run up against the proverb of a former boss of mine, back when I was a lobbyist: “Never confuse motion with progress.”
A compromise, then—something I did with one of the cities I worked for. Let’s have a Five-Year Plan, but update it every year. We can reflect changed conditions, but also lop off the list things we’ve accomplished, and add new things. It becomes a “living” document—we are always thinking five years out from where we’re at.
Five years from now is (like the old song says) when I’m 64. I’ll still be working, but I’ll be a year away from retirement. My idea of “retirement” still has me working half the year—probably interim city-manager gigs, for which I’ll need that degree—and playing music the other half. No interest, really, in being one of those Nashville stars, but I’d like to be regionally famous, playing gigs and selling records in sufficient quantity to more than pay for my “habit.” I’d like my songs to be in demand; I want, in other words, to have people who are better’n I am recording my stuff. I want my publishing company to be in a position to handle the placements—and placements of other people’s stuff, too, that I’ve done music for. And for that, I need better notoriety.
There, as Ronald Reagan used to say, is “the city on the hill.” Having envisioned the city on the hill, one can next envision how to get there. How does what I’ve done fit into or further that vision? And what do I do next?
UPDATE: Cover art is done for the “Broken Record” project, and I’ve typeset the songs I already have recordings for, that I know aren’t going to change. I don’t think I can decide what order they go in until I have all of the recordings in hand, and can hear ‘em. Still waiting on photos from a good two-thirds of the people.
Joe
Friday, December 5, 2008
9 MONTHS WITHOUT WORK (BUT i'M PUBLISHED!)
On 17 December—eight days before Christmas—I will have been unemployed nine months. Can’t say as I’ve done a lot with the free time (though the Squirrel House does have a new kitchen, and new carpets, and electric heat). Let’s say I don’t feel I’ve done enough. Part of what’s been on hold is that career as a songwriter; as I prepare next year’s list of goals (for I am good at lists), most of the promotional stuff I’d intended to accomplish this past year hasn’t happened—a lot of it because of simple timidity on my part.
With one major exception. I have managed to write a lot. The past 11 months has resulted in:
Crosses by the Roadside (November)
The Strange Saga of Quoth, the Parrot (October)
Vampire Roumanian Babies (October)
Doing Battle with the Lawn (September)
Dead Fishes (August)
When They Die, I Put Them in the Cookies (August)
I Broke My Girlfriend (August)
Alphabet Without U—A Rap (July)
Bedpans for Brains (July)
For Their Own Ends (July)
21 Steamer Drive (June)
Something’s Missing (June)
Electronic Love (June)
20 Saddles for My Chicken (June)
Free-Range Person (March)
All “keepers” (songs that aren’t “keepers” get promptly forgotten). At least half of those are definite inclusions for the next album, plus three were written specifically for Southern Pigfish, for their album. So I have enough material for another album, and we haven’t even got the last one out yet.
In addition, there have been 12 collabs this year, with seven different lyricists, two of them overseas. That’s not album stuff, though--those are their songs, not mine. I maintain I have simply provided a delivery system for their mostly very good lyrics. What the authors do with those songs is up to them. Four of them—Odd Roar Vindstad’s “Simple Questions,” Donna Devine’s “Sometimes She Could Scream,” Regina Michelle’s “What Jesus Did for Me,” and Rev. Skip Johnson’s “Tune the Strings of My Soul”—I think have commercial potential, and I hope the authors are able to get some commerce out of them. (I’ve asked Skip’s permission to include “Strings” on an album of mine.)
I’ve inherited a project, that I expect to be educational as well as fun. Earlier this year, when lyricist Beth Williams suffered a broken foot, arm, and other body parts, a number of the writers at Just Plain Folks contributed to a planned album of songs about broken things, that was going to be given to Beth as a very tongue-in-cheek get-well present. The original instigator ended up taking a leave of absence, and handed off the project to me.
Part of the job has entailed finding composers to write music for the seven or so writers who only do lyrics. That’s mostly done now (all the matching up took place over just a couple of days), and I’m just waiting on recordings. I’ve got a song on the album, too (“I Broke My Girlfriend”). I’ll get to do the artwork for the thing, which should be lots of fun. I’ll need to learn mastering, to make the volume of all these songs produced by different people in different places on different equipment come out at roughly the same volume on the CD. That’s something I’ve never attempted before.
UPDATE: Got the poster for the Philippine Christmas album, and it is pretty. A couple of copies of the album—which is coming out on flash drive—are reportedly en route to me by snail mail. Can’t wait: it’ll be hard evidence I accomplished something—getting published, and on somebody else’s record—that I hadn’t expected.
Joe
With one major exception. I have managed to write a lot. The past 11 months has resulted in:
Crosses by the Roadside (November)
The Strange Saga of Quoth, the Parrot (October)
Vampire Roumanian Babies (October)
Doing Battle with the Lawn (September)
Dead Fishes (August)
When They Die, I Put Them in the Cookies (August)
I Broke My Girlfriend (August)
Alphabet Without U—A Rap (July)
Bedpans for Brains (July)
For Their Own Ends (July)
21 Steamer Drive (June)
Something’s Missing (June)
Electronic Love (June)
20 Saddles for My Chicken (June)
Free-Range Person (March)
All “keepers” (songs that aren’t “keepers” get promptly forgotten). At least half of those are definite inclusions for the next album, plus three were written specifically for Southern Pigfish, for their album. So I have enough material for another album, and we haven’t even got the last one out yet.
In addition, there have been 12 collabs this year, with seven different lyricists, two of them overseas. That’s not album stuff, though--those are their songs, not mine. I maintain I have simply provided a delivery system for their mostly very good lyrics. What the authors do with those songs is up to them. Four of them—Odd Roar Vindstad’s “Simple Questions,” Donna Devine’s “Sometimes She Could Scream,” Regina Michelle’s “What Jesus Did for Me,” and Rev. Skip Johnson’s “Tune the Strings of My Soul”—I think have commercial potential, and I hope the authors are able to get some commerce out of them. (I’ve asked Skip’s permission to include “Strings” on an album of mine.)
I’ve inherited a project, that I expect to be educational as well as fun. Earlier this year, when lyricist Beth Williams suffered a broken foot, arm, and other body parts, a number of the writers at Just Plain Folks contributed to a planned album of songs about broken things, that was going to be given to Beth as a very tongue-in-cheek get-well present. The original instigator ended up taking a leave of absence, and handed off the project to me.
Part of the job has entailed finding composers to write music for the seven or so writers who only do lyrics. That’s mostly done now (all the matching up took place over just a couple of days), and I’m just waiting on recordings. I’ve got a song on the album, too (“I Broke My Girlfriend”). I’ll get to do the artwork for the thing, which should be lots of fun. I’ll need to learn mastering, to make the volume of all these songs produced by different people in different places on different equipment come out at roughly the same volume on the CD. That’s something I’ve never attempted before.
UPDATE: Got the poster for the Philippine Christmas album, and it is pretty. A couple of copies of the album—which is coming out on flash drive—are reportedly en route to me by snail mail. Can’t wait: it’ll be hard evidence I accomplished something—getting published, and on somebody else’s record—that I hadn’t expected.
Joe
Saturday, November 29, 2008
"CROSSES" AND THE PUBLISHER...
“Crosses by the Roadside” is a good song, they say. “Best you ever wrote,” they say. (Didn’t even have to pay them to say that.) Best I’ll ever write? Probably not. The key is to keep writing. That way you know the best is always ahead.
It is rather a compelling melody, difficult to get out of my head—and the only way to get it out is to go do something else. Unfortunately, I don’t have anything finishable right now (the couple of partial songs that are hanging fire still don’t have any worthwhile additions). I can revert to recording the few songs of other folks that I have music for, and maybe that will help. One by Beth Williams, one by Stan Good, one by somebody else that I got talked into helping finish (I hate it when that happens—but the song would be a real tear-jerker if done right), and the Swedish country-music song, “Tugga Pa,” that’s been hanging fire for a long time while I try to perfect my Swedish pronunciations. I do have a few things to keep me busy. Immerse myself in them, and I might be able to drive the “Crosses” melody out of my head.
I did hear back from one of the music publishers. He sorta liked “Crosses by the Roadside,” but wants it re-written—different hook, and he wants it to be shorter (it’s presently 4:58, with a lead break). He thinks it’s too sad, too. I think my answer’s going to be “no.” The lyrics stay the way they are. I know it’s a sad song; I get embarrassed about writing anything sad, because I would really rather make people happy—but if I’m going to do it, I am going to pull out all the stops and do the best job I can. Moderating that is like blunting a sharp tool. In the same vein, the hook is what it is; it’s the one thing that didn’t change one bit in all the massaging and tweaking the song went through. I have a feeling it’s stuck in place. And if the hook were different, wouldn’t it be a whole different song?
I got rather better advice from the writers at Just Plain Folks. They didn’t have any “nits” about the words. One suggestion I got for shortening it was to simply lop off the last chorus, ending the song after the last verse, and that would work. That hook is repeated plenty of times, in verses as well as chorus. I can cut more time if I need to by simply eliminating the lead break (and I’d do that anyway if I were playing it solo). Those considerations are important; if I record this in Nashville, at the Pineyfest Demo Derby, Mike Dunbar and his session guys are going to insist the song be a maximum of 4-1/2 minutes long. But I don’t need to change the words to do that.
I did get a request from a performing songwriter I know, asking if he could perform and record it, and I told him “sure.” He does good work, and he’s covered a couple other of my songs before. (And he thinks it’ll interest a crowd just the way it’s written, without changes. I trust his opinion more than the publisher guy’s.)
Does beg the question whether I’d make the changes (or let the publisher do it) if the dude were offering me a wad of money to do so. (Publishers don’t normally do that, by the way.) My level of interest in doing that would be governed by my need for money, which is pretty severe right now; I might well take the money and run, and console myself with the knowledge that I’d be writing more songs. As it is, though, he’s not. A publisher is like a real estate agent—he only thinks he can market your property, he’s not guaranteeing it. In this instance, it’s a little like a car dealer saying he could sell your 1-ton truck easier if it had a 4-cylinder motor in it. He might be right, and he might not. I don’t feel like replacing the engine right now, and if that means he’s not going to feel like trying to sell it, that’s probably okay.
I do want to make sure, however, that I leave the door open to be able to send him more stuff in the future; it is really important to have a publisher you can do that with. Accordingly, I don’t want to convey the impression I’m rejecting his “change this” ideas out of hand. I might well want to change things in a different song, in the future. Besides, Nashville thrives on this “flexibility” mantra—you don’t want to be marked as someone who doesn’t play well with others, or you won’t get any business.
I did play “Crosses” with the Friday Night Group (yes, we get together even on the Friday after Thanksgiving), and it went over pretty good with them and the small audience. They liked the humorous songs better, though. They always do.
Joe
It is rather a compelling melody, difficult to get out of my head—and the only way to get it out is to go do something else. Unfortunately, I don’t have anything finishable right now (the couple of partial songs that are hanging fire still don’t have any worthwhile additions). I can revert to recording the few songs of other folks that I have music for, and maybe that will help. One by Beth Williams, one by Stan Good, one by somebody else that I got talked into helping finish (I hate it when that happens—but the song would be a real tear-jerker if done right), and the Swedish country-music song, “Tugga Pa,” that’s been hanging fire for a long time while I try to perfect my Swedish pronunciations. I do have a few things to keep me busy. Immerse myself in them, and I might be able to drive the “Crosses” melody out of my head.
I did hear back from one of the music publishers. He sorta liked “Crosses by the Roadside,” but wants it re-written—different hook, and he wants it to be shorter (it’s presently 4:58, with a lead break). He thinks it’s too sad, too. I think my answer’s going to be “no.” The lyrics stay the way they are. I know it’s a sad song; I get embarrassed about writing anything sad, because I would really rather make people happy—but if I’m going to do it, I am going to pull out all the stops and do the best job I can. Moderating that is like blunting a sharp tool. In the same vein, the hook is what it is; it’s the one thing that didn’t change one bit in all the massaging and tweaking the song went through. I have a feeling it’s stuck in place. And if the hook were different, wouldn’t it be a whole different song?
I got rather better advice from the writers at Just Plain Folks. They didn’t have any “nits” about the words. One suggestion I got for shortening it was to simply lop off the last chorus, ending the song after the last verse, and that would work. That hook is repeated plenty of times, in verses as well as chorus. I can cut more time if I need to by simply eliminating the lead break (and I’d do that anyway if I were playing it solo). Those considerations are important; if I record this in Nashville, at the Pineyfest Demo Derby, Mike Dunbar and his session guys are going to insist the song be a maximum of 4-1/2 minutes long. But I don’t need to change the words to do that.
I did get a request from a performing songwriter I know, asking if he could perform and record it, and I told him “sure.” He does good work, and he’s covered a couple other of my songs before. (And he thinks it’ll interest a crowd just the way it’s written, without changes. I trust his opinion more than the publisher guy’s.)
Does beg the question whether I’d make the changes (or let the publisher do it) if the dude were offering me a wad of money to do so. (Publishers don’t normally do that, by the way.) My level of interest in doing that would be governed by my need for money, which is pretty severe right now; I might well take the money and run, and console myself with the knowledge that I’d be writing more songs. As it is, though, he’s not. A publisher is like a real estate agent—he only thinks he can market your property, he’s not guaranteeing it. In this instance, it’s a little like a car dealer saying he could sell your 1-ton truck easier if it had a 4-cylinder motor in it. He might be right, and he might not. I don’t feel like replacing the engine right now, and if that means he’s not going to feel like trying to sell it, that’s probably okay.
I do want to make sure, however, that I leave the door open to be able to send him more stuff in the future; it is really important to have a publisher you can do that with. Accordingly, I don’t want to convey the impression I’m rejecting his “change this” ideas out of hand. I might well want to change things in a different song, in the future. Besides, Nashville thrives on this “flexibility” mantra—you don’t want to be marked as someone who doesn’t play well with others, or you won’t get any business.
I did play “Crosses” with the Friday Night Group (yes, we get together even on the Friday after Thanksgiving), and it went over pretty good with them and the small audience. They liked the humorous songs better, though. They always do.
Joe
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
THANKSGIVING...
Day before Thanksgiving… time to review what to be thankful for. This year, it’s a short list, thanks in large part to the economy; my wife says one of the things I should be thankful for is she still has a job, and I agree (and I said I’d mention it). To those who have been reading this thing, whoever and however many of you there are, I am thankful you’re there, too. I hope whatever information is being disseminated here is helpful.
There are a few—a very few—copies of the “Santa’s Fallen” CD left from the last (fourth) pressing, that I’d like to sell off for Christmas money. If anyone doesn’t have one, and wants one, please contact me. Ten bucks apiece, as usual, and I’ll autograph it, as usual. (This is not the only place I’ll be making that announcement, and there are not many copies left.) I won’t have another album out before Christmas because there just is not the money; it’s going to have to wait for better times. I do not know how long the better times will be in coming.
“Crosses by the Roadside” has gotten a fair amount of attention, but attention and money are two different things. Two music publishers have been contacted (I sent the song to one, and notified the other it was available), but I’ve heard nothing and probably shouldn’t expect to. The third (I know only three) is firm about not accepting any unsolicited material. I understand. If I were a publisher—and I hope to be one—I’d probably be the same way. There is a lot of [insert fecal simile] out there, and one can drown in it. I’d be selective, too—I’d have a small number of people I’d “handle” whose material and output I was familiar with, and then on rare occasions I’d cast out a small bit of bait and see what astounding new stuff I could reel in.
I saw someone ask on line how a band got paid when they recorded a song someone else wrote. I think the answer is the band either got paid a flat fee as session musicians when the song was recorded, or had an all-or-part share in the production of the record, and could maybe make money off sales. Only the writer and publisher get those minuscule copyright royalties. (In Europe, I understand, there are “performance royalties” for the band/artist, but that appears to be something the record companies in the U.S. have resisted.)
One way the band could make money is if the band were the publishing company. I don’t know if there are any bands doing this. It’s not a bad idea.
It would entail some marketing savvy on the part of the band (or the band manager), but a working band that’s making some money already is doing some marketing; it wouldn’t be that big a stretch. Of course, most small-time bands, or bands just starting out, don’t think of these things. It’s not until you’re making money selling records, or trying to get a song played on the radio, that you run up against the copyright royalties thing. Being the publishing company would be a good way for a working band to get some good original material—attractive to both the writer and the band (since the system would ensure both got paid a little money in the form of royalties).
Does that mean there’s a future for a Southern Pigfish Publishing Company? Not yet; the band would have to be famous enough so having your song “cut” by Southern Pigfish meant some financial reward. Not there yet. Might be a model for others, though.
With that, I’m off to buy fish for Thanksgiving dinner at my nephew’s (vegetarian, me—they can have turkey, but I can’t). Parting shot: as you drive over the river and through the woods, and keep seeing those roadside crosses, please don’t question whether those folks are better off than you are. The question’s already been asked—by me. Be thankful for the hand you’ve been dealt.
Joe
There are a few—a very few—copies of the “Santa’s Fallen” CD left from the last (fourth) pressing, that I’d like to sell off for Christmas money. If anyone doesn’t have one, and wants one, please contact me. Ten bucks apiece, as usual, and I’ll autograph it, as usual. (This is not the only place I’ll be making that announcement, and there are not many copies left.) I won’t have another album out before Christmas because there just is not the money; it’s going to have to wait for better times. I do not know how long the better times will be in coming.
“Crosses by the Roadside” has gotten a fair amount of attention, but attention and money are two different things. Two music publishers have been contacted (I sent the song to one, and notified the other it was available), but I’ve heard nothing and probably shouldn’t expect to. The third (I know only three) is firm about not accepting any unsolicited material. I understand. If I were a publisher—and I hope to be one—I’d probably be the same way. There is a lot of [insert fecal simile] out there, and one can drown in it. I’d be selective, too—I’d have a small number of people I’d “handle” whose material and output I was familiar with, and then on rare occasions I’d cast out a small bit of bait and see what astounding new stuff I could reel in.
I saw someone ask on line how a band got paid when they recorded a song someone else wrote. I think the answer is the band either got paid a flat fee as session musicians when the song was recorded, or had an all-or-part share in the production of the record, and could maybe make money off sales. Only the writer and publisher get those minuscule copyright royalties. (In Europe, I understand, there are “performance royalties” for the band/artist, but that appears to be something the record companies in the U.S. have resisted.)
One way the band could make money is if the band were the publishing company. I don’t know if there are any bands doing this. It’s not a bad idea.
It would entail some marketing savvy on the part of the band (or the band manager), but a working band that’s making some money already is doing some marketing; it wouldn’t be that big a stretch. Of course, most small-time bands, or bands just starting out, don’t think of these things. It’s not until you’re making money selling records, or trying to get a song played on the radio, that you run up against the copyright royalties thing. Being the publishing company would be a good way for a working band to get some good original material—attractive to both the writer and the band (since the system would ensure both got paid a little money in the form of royalties).
Does that mean there’s a future for a Southern Pigfish Publishing Company? Not yet; the band would have to be famous enough so having your song “cut” by Southern Pigfish meant some financial reward. Not there yet. Might be a model for others, though.
With that, I’m off to buy fish for Thanksgiving dinner at my nephew’s (vegetarian, me—they can have turkey, but I can’t). Parting shot: as you drive over the river and through the woods, and keep seeing those roadside crosses, please don’t question whether those folks are better off than you are. The question’s already been asked—by me. Be thankful for the hand you’ve been dealt.
Joe
Monday, November 24, 2008
"CROSSES BY THE ROADSIDE"...
NEW SONG: I haven’t been able to say that in a long time. The lyrics are presently undergoing peer review (I always submit the lyrics first), and we’ll see what the critics think; I think it’s pretty good, but I’ve learned not to trust my own judgment about these things.
Hight (tentatively) “Crosses by the Roadside.” It’s a good tearjerker of a lost-love song—in this case, the love is lost apparently because somebody died—that poses the question whether it may be worse to be left alive. Serious song—and I wasn’t intending it to be serious when I started.
Does raise—again—the question where inspiration comes from. I know in general there’s a close connection between Inspiration and Pain; that’s why I try (to the extent I can) not to have too comfortable a life—I don’t want that inspiration to go away. But why this song? I didn’t have anybody die, or even leave; I have a friend who may be dying, but he certainly shows no signs of being about to yet. True, there are the crosses around, rather a lot of them—US 101 once won an award as one of the most dangerous roads in the United States.
I did hear complaints from other songwriters that a lot of people seem to be writing sad songs right close to this Thanksgiving, so what I did may be a symptom of a general malaise. At a time when we’re all supposed to be feeling thankful and hopeful, a lot of folks just don’t have a lot to feel thankful or hopeful about. And the feeling of loss may stem from that definite impression that the past was better. And it’s gone now.
So maybe I’ve got a song that’s maybe a bit better than average. What can I do with it? This has happened a couple of times before; I’ve come up with something that—my opinion, of course—just might have Hit Potential, and I’ve had nowhere to take it. Yes, I can perform it in public, and get the usual oohs and aahs, and it can get played a lot on the OMD Websites like Soundclick and Whitby Shores, and maybe a few performing musicians like me will add it to their repertoires, and of course it can go on a CD, and copies of the CD will sell. But that’s all relatively small potatoes. Is it possible to do better?
Maybe. I did get connected with one Nashville music publisher who had offered on one of the writers’ sites I subscribe to do do free reviews of people’s songs, and I did send him one; I haven’t heard back from him (not surprising—these guys are busy), and that’s an excuse to contact him, and ask if he’d give a listen to “Crosses by the Roadside.” He may be my best shot. I am on the mailing list of one other publisher (in California), but as I’ve noted before, she doesn’t accept unsolicited material. The best I can do there is e-mail her and ask—and maybe not expect a response. I’ve got a few other contacts in Nashville, but they’re mostly folks trying to break into the business, just like me.
(And it’s possible there may NOT be the Hit Potential. Didn’t Randy Travis have a big hit a few years ago with a song about three crosses? Did he manage to sew up the market with it, to the point where nobody can do songs about dead people crosses? I did have somebody suggest that. I don’t know, and will have to find out.)
I did record it—minimalist, with just rhythm and lead guitar (both played by me). It fell together in just a few takes, so I assume that’s how it was meant to be. I’ll plan on performing it with the Friday Night Group to see how a crowd reacts.
Joe
Hight (tentatively) “Crosses by the Roadside.” It’s a good tearjerker of a lost-love song—in this case, the love is lost apparently because somebody died—that poses the question whether it may be worse to be left alive. Serious song—and I wasn’t intending it to be serious when I started.
Does raise—again—the question where inspiration comes from. I know in general there’s a close connection between Inspiration and Pain; that’s why I try (to the extent I can) not to have too comfortable a life—I don’t want that inspiration to go away. But why this song? I didn’t have anybody die, or even leave; I have a friend who may be dying, but he certainly shows no signs of being about to yet. True, there are the crosses around, rather a lot of them—US 101 once won an award as one of the most dangerous roads in the United States.
I did hear complaints from other songwriters that a lot of people seem to be writing sad songs right close to this Thanksgiving, so what I did may be a symptom of a general malaise. At a time when we’re all supposed to be feeling thankful and hopeful, a lot of folks just don’t have a lot to feel thankful or hopeful about. And the feeling of loss may stem from that definite impression that the past was better. And it’s gone now.
So maybe I’ve got a song that’s maybe a bit better than average. What can I do with it? This has happened a couple of times before; I’ve come up with something that—my opinion, of course—just might have Hit Potential, and I’ve had nowhere to take it. Yes, I can perform it in public, and get the usual oohs and aahs, and it can get played a lot on the OMD Websites like Soundclick and Whitby Shores, and maybe a few performing musicians like me will add it to their repertoires, and of course it can go on a CD, and copies of the CD will sell. But that’s all relatively small potatoes. Is it possible to do better?
Maybe. I did get connected with one Nashville music publisher who had offered on one of the writers’ sites I subscribe to do do free reviews of people’s songs, and I did send him one; I haven’t heard back from him (not surprising—these guys are busy), and that’s an excuse to contact him, and ask if he’d give a listen to “Crosses by the Roadside.” He may be my best shot. I am on the mailing list of one other publisher (in California), but as I’ve noted before, she doesn’t accept unsolicited material. The best I can do there is e-mail her and ask—and maybe not expect a response. I’ve got a few other contacts in Nashville, but they’re mostly folks trying to break into the business, just like me.
(And it’s possible there may NOT be the Hit Potential. Didn’t Randy Travis have a big hit a few years ago with a song about three crosses? Did he manage to sew up the market with it, to the point where nobody can do songs about dead people crosses? I did have somebody suggest that. I don’t know, and will have to find out.)
I did record it—minimalist, with just rhythm and lead guitar (both played by me). It fell together in just a few takes, so I assume that’s how it was meant to be. I’ll plan on performing it with the Friday Night Group to see how a crowd reacts.
Joe
Friday, November 21, 2008
OOO! A PROJECT!
Two friends want to record an album as a Christmas present for their grandchildren. Can I do it? Yes. In fact, I can handle production from beginning to end, including burning the CDs and putting labels on them. Great opportunity for the Tone-Deaf Sound Engineer.
I explained my limitations. The Tascam has just 4 tracks, and 2 inputs (guitar and mike) that have to be used separately. I have one singing mike, and one stand. If I’m going to record two of anything—two voices, or two guitars—I have to do them separately.
And it occurred to me those last statements aren’t quite true. I have two mike stands (picked one up at a garage sale that needs a head fitting) and a couple of extra mikes I’ve never tried out (same garage sale). I have the ancient 6-channel mixer, too, that I’ve never used, and the adapter I had Radio Shack make me for it so I could use electricity instead of a pile of batteries. I also have two sets of headphones, but I may be able to use only one at a time (they have different ends, too). Abovementioned friends have a couple of wireless mikes of their own, but I don’t know if they have stands for them.
I probably need all of that stuff to record these guys. Their guitars aren’t electrified (and one is an old F-hole type that can’t be rigged with a conventional pickup); unless they want to play my guitar, they’ll have to be miked. I probably want to put one of them on one “side” of the virtual “stage” and one on the other, and record their miked guitar and vocal simultaneously, one person at a time.
We’ll want to record two lead instruments—his harmonica and my guitar—and that, I think uses up the other two tracks, unless I want to try recording his harmonica lead while his wife is singing. (I may not want to push the Sound Engineer persona that far.)
I’ll want to remember the settings, because I will use them again—for every song on the CD. Poor man’s mastering, that—if the volume settings are the same for every song, it’s effectively mastered without having to do anything else. (I can use Audacity for mastering, but I’m not sure I know enough about the program to do it well.) We convert the mixed files to *.cda (CD-Audio) format, and decide what order they’re going to go in on the CD. I can burn the CDs on the old Akai CD burner, but the computer can do it, too (it’s just slower).
The one limitation I can do little about is the minuscule size of the Tascam’s “brain,” which is a small-capacity digital-camera chip. Normally, I can’t fit any more than one song on it. If we’re really good—i.e., if we can record each track with a minimum of re-takes—I might be able to fit two mixes on the chip before having to drive home and dump them to the computer. We all do live in the same town, but I still might not be able to do more than four or so songs a day.
They still have to pick the songs. (I wonder if they’d want to do any of mine?) I told them to plan on an hour’s worth of music (12-13 songs); over that, almost anybody gets boring.
From the graphic-design end, I get to design the label (which will have their photo—which I’ll take—on it), and print it, too. I’ll do all this for the cost of materials (probably a little over $2 per CD), because they’re friends; if it comes out good, they can tell other folks, and I might have some sideline work.
UPDATES: Not much. Nobody’s answered my responses to the ads on Portland Craigslist; Movie Dude (he of the “aging rock star” film) never called back; no word, either, from the folks who run that open mike in nearby Bay City. No Santa gigs, either (though I have grown a full Santa-style white beard just in case). Still playing with the Friday Night Group on Friday nights, and I’m still getting asked about the next album—which at this point I can’t afford to finish. My poster for the library’s Saturday afternoon music thing has reportedly gotten a lot of attention, and I reminded the librarian I’m up for paying work.
Joe
I explained my limitations. The Tascam has just 4 tracks, and 2 inputs (guitar and mike) that have to be used separately. I have one singing mike, and one stand. If I’m going to record two of anything—two voices, or two guitars—I have to do them separately.
And it occurred to me those last statements aren’t quite true. I have two mike stands (picked one up at a garage sale that needs a head fitting) and a couple of extra mikes I’ve never tried out (same garage sale). I have the ancient 6-channel mixer, too, that I’ve never used, and the adapter I had Radio Shack make me for it so I could use electricity instead of a pile of batteries. I also have two sets of headphones, but I may be able to use only one at a time (they have different ends, too). Abovementioned friends have a couple of wireless mikes of their own, but I don’t know if they have stands for them.
I probably need all of that stuff to record these guys. Their guitars aren’t electrified (and one is an old F-hole type that can’t be rigged with a conventional pickup); unless they want to play my guitar, they’ll have to be miked. I probably want to put one of them on one “side” of the virtual “stage” and one on the other, and record their miked guitar and vocal simultaneously, one person at a time.
We’ll want to record two lead instruments—his harmonica and my guitar—and that, I think uses up the other two tracks, unless I want to try recording his harmonica lead while his wife is singing. (I may not want to push the Sound Engineer persona that far.)
I’ll want to remember the settings, because I will use them again—for every song on the CD. Poor man’s mastering, that—if the volume settings are the same for every song, it’s effectively mastered without having to do anything else. (I can use Audacity for mastering, but I’m not sure I know enough about the program to do it well.) We convert the mixed files to *.cda (CD-Audio) format, and decide what order they’re going to go in on the CD. I can burn the CDs on the old Akai CD burner, but the computer can do it, too (it’s just slower).
The one limitation I can do little about is the minuscule size of the Tascam’s “brain,” which is a small-capacity digital-camera chip. Normally, I can’t fit any more than one song on it. If we’re really good—i.e., if we can record each track with a minimum of re-takes—I might be able to fit two mixes on the chip before having to drive home and dump them to the computer. We all do live in the same town, but I still might not be able to do more than four or so songs a day.
They still have to pick the songs. (I wonder if they’d want to do any of mine?) I told them to plan on an hour’s worth of music (12-13 songs); over that, almost anybody gets boring.
From the graphic-design end, I get to design the label (which will have their photo—which I’ll take—on it), and print it, too. I’ll do all this for the cost of materials (probably a little over $2 per CD), because they’re friends; if it comes out good, they can tell other folks, and I might have some sideline work.
UPDATES: Not much. Nobody’s answered my responses to the ads on Portland Craigslist; Movie Dude (he of the “aging rock star” film) never called back; no word, either, from the folks who run that open mike in nearby Bay City. No Santa gigs, either (though I have grown a full Santa-style white beard just in case). Still playing with the Friday Night Group on Friday nights, and I’m still getting asked about the next album—which at this point I can’t afford to finish. My poster for the library’s Saturday afternoon music thing has reportedly gotten a lot of attention, and I reminded the librarian I’m up for paying work.
Joe
Monday, November 17, 2008
THE PIGFISH ALBUM LIST...
John (the bass player) wanted a CD of Southern Pigfish songs for practice. I think the way to approach it is to act as if the Southern Pigfish album were going to be produced right now, today, and all there was to pick from was my songs. What would go on the album would be:
For Their Own Ends
Bedpans for Brains
Vampire Roumanian Babies
Dirty Deeds We Done to Sheep
Test Tube Baby
Born Again Barbie
Naked Space Hamsters in Love
When I Jump Off the Cliff, I’ll Think of You
The World Enquirer
Bluebird on My Windshield
Rotten Candy
Three folk-rock, two rock ‘n’ roll, one Gospel (“Barbie”), three bluegrass, and two country. I’d add the Norwegian Black/Death Metal tune, “Evil Dead Fairies in My Mobile Home,” but I don’t have a draft recorded yet. (I might know a couple of people who could help with that, however.) A good cross-section of genres on which the band can put their own “spin,” and show off their capabilities.
As for what the band could perform, it’s really just more of the same. If we’re talking only about my stuff (and I don’t know that for sure), I have over 60 “keepers”—over FIVE HOURS of performable music, in other words. Add in the collabs, of which there’s maybe an album’s worth now, and we’ve got SIX HOURS. That’s why it’s possible to adjust a setlist to the prejudices of a crowd—to do all kid-friendly songs for the Neskowin Harvest Festival, for instance.
ANOTHER GIG, MAYBE? I went job-chasing one night last week; it’s not something I’ve done before, but troubled times require troubled measures (or something like that). There’s a recreation district north of here that lost their general manager (they also lost the contents of their bank account about the same time), and are looking for a new one (manager, that is). Not a problem: I am good with money, and I do seem to end up working for people with financial problems. So I went to their board meeting, to introduce myself, find out when they were advertising the job, and so on.
I may end up getting a gig out of it, if not (or in addition to) a job. They were agonizing over how to raise money, which prompted (from me) the old Mickey Rooney-Judy Garland response—“Let’s put on a show!” So they got one of my “Wanted in 6 states for playing bad country music” business cards, and they told me the building (an old grade school) has a huge auditorium with a stage, that doesn’t get used that much. We could take care of that…
BROCHURE: Need to re-do the “Joe is Great!” brochure, which got erased in the course of outfitting “Alice” the computer with Windows XP (WinXP deleted all software not made by Microsoft, and all files created with any software not made by Microsoft—very nasty people). The brochure was due for an upgrade anyway; I have new photos and new press clippings to add.
The brochure is the only part of the “press packet” (photo, CD and brochure) that has much of any writing on it, so what writing it does have on it needs to be attention-getting as well as concise. So we’ll have a brief description of the music, a list of awards (it’s a short list), juicy quotes from the press clippings, and photos of me playing in various places. The “Wanted in 6 states” logo designed by my daughter, and the contact information—e-mail and snail-mail, home phone and cell phone (the brochure is the only piece of the”press packet” that has that information). They can’t get hold of you if they don’t know how.
UPDATES: No on the movie part (I did offer to write original music for the film, too, but haven’t got a response to that). I have a part in Country Rose’s Christmas radio play (as Santa), and a few collabs left to finish. Re-recorded “The World Enquirer,” one of my earliest songs (the original recording was mono), and even though I didn’t use it on the cut, I found an effects setting for the electric banjo that works—it’s obviously a banjo, and obviously electric, at the same time.
joe
For Their Own Ends
Bedpans for Brains
Vampire Roumanian Babies
Dirty Deeds We Done to Sheep
Test Tube Baby
Born Again Barbie
Naked Space Hamsters in Love
When I Jump Off the Cliff, I’ll Think of You
The World Enquirer
Bluebird on My Windshield
Rotten Candy
Three folk-rock, two rock ‘n’ roll, one Gospel (“Barbie”), three bluegrass, and two country. I’d add the Norwegian Black/Death Metal tune, “Evil Dead Fairies in My Mobile Home,” but I don’t have a draft recorded yet. (I might know a couple of people who could help with that, however.) A good cross-section of genres on which the band can put their own “spin,” and show off their capabilities.
As for what the band could perform, it’s really just more of the same. If we’re talking only about my stuff (and I don’t know that for sure), I have over 60 “keepers”—over FIVE HOURS of performable music, in other words. Add in the collabs, of which there’s maybe an album’s worth now, and we’ve got SIX HOURS. That’s why it’s possible to adjust a setlist to the prejudices of a crowd—to do all kid-friendly songs for the Neskowin Harvest Festival, for instance.
ANOTHER GIG, MAYBE? I went job-chasing one night last week; it’s not something I’ve done before, but troubled times require troubled measures (or something like that). There’s a recreation district north of here that lost their general manager (they also lost the contents of their bank account about the same time), and are looking for a new one (manager, that is). Not a problem: I am good with money, and I do seem to end up working for people with financial problems. So I went to their board meeting, to introduce myself, find out when they were advertising the job, and so on.
I may end up getting a gig out of it, if not (or in addition to) a job. They were agonizing over how to raise money, which prompted (from me) the old Mickey Rooney-Judy Garland response—“Let’s put on a show!” So they got one of my “Wanted in 6 states for playing bad country music” business cards, and they told me the building (an old grade school) has a huge auditorium with a stage, that doesn’t get used that much. We could take care of that…
BROCHURE: Need to re-do the “Joe is Great!” brochure, which got erased in the course of outfitting “Alice” the computer with Windows XP (WinXP deleted all software not made by Microsoft, and all files created with any software not made by Microsoft—very nasty people). The brochure was due for an upgrade anyway; I have new photos and new press clippings to add.
The brochure is the only part of the “press packet” (photo, CD and brochure) that has much of any writing on it, so what writing it does have on it needs to be attention-getting as well as concise. So we’ll have a brief description of the music, a list of awards (it’s a short list), juicy quotes from the press clippings, and photos of me playing in various places. The “Wanted in 6 states” logo designed by my daughter, and the contact information—e-mail and snail-mail, home phone and cell phone (the brochure is the only piece of the”press packet” that has that information). They can’t get hold of you if they don’t know how.
UPDATES: No on the movie part (I did offer to write original music for the film, too, but haven’t got a response to that). I have a part in Country Rose’s Christmas radio play (as Santa), and a few collabs left to finish. Re-recorded “The World Enquirer,” one of my earliest songs (the original recording was mono), and even though I didn’t use it on the cut, I found an effects setting for the electric banjo that works—it’s obviously a banjo, and obviously electric, at the same time.
joe
Sunday, November 9, 2008
NOT GOING TO BE IN A MOVIE...
I got offered an audition for a movie, but I’ve pretty much decided to shine it on. Instead, I’ll be judging speech tournaments for my daughter’s college, several weekends this winter, because that pays ($50 a day, plus hotel room and maybe meals), and the movie part doesn’t. The glory—if there was any—might have been nice, but sometimes y’gotta go where the money is.
It’d have been just a bit part—an aging rock star reduced to performing in karaoke bars. I did have a problem with the part as written, because the character—“Bubba,” they called him—comes across almost as a caricature, and I thought of him more as a tragic figure. I know people like that. Heck, I could even be somebody like that.
What if you really did peak early? What if you had to wake up every morning realizing the best you were ever going to be was behind you—a long way behind you? What if the band that made you a hit, or a sort of hit, are gone—half of them dead, maybe, from too much sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll—and nobody takes you seriously any more because you’re too old? But you have to keep performing—dressing up every weekend to go sing in some hole of a bar—and you can’t explain why. Yes, I understand. The role hits awfully close to home.
That’s probably where some of the motivation behind the latest blues came from. Tentatively titled “Crosses by the Roadside.” (Yes, we’re back to lost-love songs now that the election’s over.) I haven’t decided whether the girlfriend in the song died, or just ran away—and I haven’t decided if it matters. The lyrics are coming out pretty strange, so maybe it’ll be something for Southern Pigfish to record.
With the idea of having Southern Pigfish be the guinea pigs for the flash-drive album—I need a band anyway, after all—there are several of my songs they could probably do pretty well, that’d fit in with their folk-rock style:
Born Again Barbie (co-written with Scott Rose)
Dirty Deeds We Done to Sheep
Test Tube Baby (an old Dodson Drifters hit)
Vampire Roumanian Babies
Bedpans for Brains
For Their Own Ends
The last three, of course, were written specifically for them. “Bedpans for Brains” and “Born Again Barbie” are fully scripted music videos, and the rest could be adapted pretty easily, with a lot of live footage of the band. I’d probably have to do the vocals—but it’d be neat to do duets with the Dylanesque girl singer.
Resources? Well, I’ve got that video camera I don’t know how to use (that needs a $60 battery pack), but I do know it’ll hook up to a PA system. One would want a second camera, I think, to do close-ups of the performers, and then meld them in at strategic points. If we brought in an outside musician—Dan Doshier playing mandolin from 300 miles away, for instance—one could film them separate and splice in the footage one needed. I wonder if the local community college offers any film classes?
UPDATES: No from the Old Mill—they say they have all their performers booked for the season (which means I didn’t contact them soon enough). The librarian did like my poster, and they’ve got my photo, too (just a couple of instruments), and are putting it all over the library’s Website. Nice to know I finally did something somebody liked. Another rejection for a city manager job; I think I’ll concentrate on the private sector from now on. If the government’s got no use for me, I certainly got no use for the government. (I said the same thing about Nashville several years ago. And it’s been a relationship that’s worked out pretty well for both of us.)
Joe
It’d have been just a bit part—an aging rock star reduced to performing in karaoke bars. I did have a problem with the part as written, because the character—“Bubba,” they called him—comes across almost as a caricature, and I thought of him more as a tragic figure. I know people like that. Heck, I could even be somebody like that.
What if you really did peak early? What if you had to wake up every morning realizing the best you were ever going to be was behind you—a long way behind you? What if the band that made you a hit, or a sort of hit, are gone—half of them dead, maybe, from too much sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll—and nobody takes you seriously any more because you’re too old? But you have to keep performing—dressing up every weekend to go sing in some hole of a bar—and you can’t explain why. Yes, I understand. The role hits awfully close to home.
That’s probably where some of the motivation behind the latest blues came from. Tentatively titled “Crosses by the Roadside.” (Yes, we’re back to lost-love songs now that the election’s over.) I haven’t decided whether the girlfriend in the song died, or just ran away—and I haven’t decided if it matters. The lyrics are coming out pretty strange, so maybe it’ll be something for Southern Pigfish to record.
With the idea of having Southern Pigfish be the guinea pigs for the flash-drive album—I need a band anyway, after all—there are several of my songs they could probably do pretty well, that’d fit in with their folk-rock style:
Born Again Barbie (co-written with Scott Rose)
Dirty Deeds We Done to Sheep
Test Tube Baby (an old Dodson Drifters hit)
Vampire Roumanian Babies
Bedpans for Brains
For Their Own Ends
The last three, of course, were written specifically for them. “Bedpans for Brains” and “Born Again Barbie” are fully scripted music videos, and the rest could be adapted pretty easily, with a lot of live footage of the band. I’d probably have to do the vocals—but it’d be neat to do duets with the Dylanesque girl singer.
Resources? Well, I’ve got that video camera I don’t know how to use (that needs a $60 battery pack), but I do know it’ll hook up to a PA system. One would want a second camera, I think, to do close-ups of the performers, and then meld them in at strategic points. If we brought in an outside musician—Dan Doshier playing mandolin from 300 miles away, for instance—one could film them separate and splice in the footage one needed. I wonder if the local community college offers any film classes?
UPDATES: No from the Old Mill—they say they have all their performers booked for the season (which means I didn’t contact them soon enough). The librarian did like my poster, and they’ve got my photo, too (just a couple of instruments), and are putting it all over the library’s Website. Nice to know I finally did something somebody liked. Another rejection for a city manager job; I think I’ll concentrate on the private sector from now on. If the government’s got no use for me, I certainly got no use for the government. (I said the same thing about Nashville several years ago. And it’s been a relationship that’s worked out pretty well for both of us.)
Joe
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
THANKS, EVERYBODY...
The last issue of “The Writer’s Blog” prompted an outpouring of messages of hope and encouragement for which I am extremely grateful. I had no idea that many people were reading this thing. Thanks, everybody. A lot of folks urged me to take my 15 years’ experience as a city manager and use it to do something else for a living. I think I will.
As noted in the first issue of the blog, nearly two years ago, the blog is describing a journey, hopefully to success as a songwriter. Like all journeys, there are potholes and washed-out bridges and abandoned things along the way. If anything I do works, and other people can imitate it or better it, that’s a good thing. And if what I do doesn’t work, well, remember the old proverb—“Some people’s purpose in life is to serve as an example to others.”
I visited some old friends (about 20 years older, in fact) and got encouragement and ideas from them, too. They’re very religious folks, of “the Lord will provide” variety—and the weird thing is, the Lord does provide in their case. Things just happen around them—precisely what they need (no more, no less), precisely when they need it. They are a walking advertisement for why one should be serious about religion.
They had ideas for jobs, and for gigs, and I’ll follow up. I had no idea (for instance) that some nursing homes were paying musicians to come perform, and that there was a company that arranged those bookings—but one of our local nursing homes uses the service, and I’ll talk to them. Said couple also telephoned the people back in Virginia who run the Museum—because (of course) they know them personally. (And there will be a gig—a paying one. Won’t happen till next summer, and I don’t know if it’ll be solo or with a band, but there will be a gig.)
I sent e-mails to the folks who do the open mike in nearby Bay City, to a music store in Vancouver (WA) looking for live performers, and a Portland (OR) cable-access TV station (ditto). First draft of the poster for the “Saturday Thing” at the Tillamook library is done, too, though I won’t hear from the librarian for a couple of days.
And I went to the bluegrass jam the State Forestry Center’s been putting on monthly as a promotional activity; it was 30 miles away, but it was a chance to play with new people. Two other guitarists and a fiddler, all from the Portland area (and one of them remembered me from the “Moograss” Bluegrass Festival two years ago). We played to a mostly packed house (and the State Forestry folks did notice). State Forestry might want to consider doing this more often.
Haven’t received my copy of the Philippine Christmas album with my song on it yet; I understand it’s being issued on a flash drive rather than CD—the publisher said that’s becoming standard practice in the Far East. Is that the wave of the future? CD technology is 23 years old, after all, and does have space limitations. There are DVDs, true, but they don’t seem to be that durable.
A flash drive would allow one to include video. At that point, the music industry changes a lot. A video track of some sort becomes a must-have, just like drums in country music. (Deejay/veejay Len Amsterdam has been saying this for a long time.) I wonder (former advertising manager) what the packaging would be like. Flash drives are small, way smaller than CDs. You could put the liner notes—and a lot more—on the flash drive itself, digitally. What about bundling the flash drive with a poster? The thing people have complained most about in the shift of recorded music from LPs to CDs is the loss of the album covers, which were often considered works of art. Including a poster could restore that.
Maybe—and I’m dreaming, here, because it’d take money I do not presently have—the next album (not the one that’s partly “in the can,” but the one afterwards, that’d come out in maybe another year) should be issued on a flash drive (and simultaneously on DVD, just in case), with poster. I think I either have the technology to do it (though I don’t know how to use all of it), or know people who do. My record company, Outside Services Ltd., could do it on small enough a scale so it wouldn’t entail a huge investment while we saw whether it worked. It’d be a first—I haven’t seen anybody else doing this. But it’s okay to be first, as long as failure doesn’t cost a lot of money.
Joe
As noted in the first issue of the blog, nearly two years ago, the blog is describing a journey, hopefully to success as a songwriter. Like all journeys, there are potholes and washed-out bridges and abandoned things along the way. If anything I do works, and other people can imitate it or better it, that’s a good thing. And if what I do doesn’t work, well, remember the old proverb—“Some people’s purpose in life is to serve as an example to others.”
I visited some old friends (about 20 years older, in fact) and got encouragement and ideas from them, too. They’re very religious folks, of “the Lord will provide” variety—and the weird thing is, the Lord does provide in their case. Things just happen around them—precisely what they need (no more, no less), precisely when they need it. They are a walking advertisement for why one should be serious about religion.
They had ideas for jobs, and for gigs, and I’ll follow up. I had no idea (for instance) that some nursing homes were paying musicians to come perform, and that there was a company that arranged those bookings—but one of our local nursing homes uses the service, and I’ll talk to them. Said couple also telephoned the people back in Virginia who run the Museum—because (of course) they know them personally. (And there will be a gig—a paying one. Won’t happen till next summer, and I don’t know if it’ll be solo or with a band, but there will be a gig.)
I sent e-mails to the folks who do the open mike in nearby Bay City, to a music store in Vancouver (WA) looking for live performers, and a Portland (OR) cable-access TV station (ditto). First draft of the poster for the “Saturday Thing” at the Tillamook library is done, too, though I won’t hear from the librarian for a couple of days.
And I went to the bluegrass jam the State Forestry Center’s been putting on monthly as a promotional activity; it was 30 miles away, but it was a chance to play with new people. Two other guitarists and a fiddler, all from the Portland area (and one of them remembered me from the “Moograss” Bluegrass Festival two years ago). We played to a mostly packed house (and the State Forestry folks did notice). State Forestry might want to consider doing this more often.
Haven’t received my copy of the Philippine Christmas album with my song on it yet; I understand it’s being issued on a flash drive rather than CD—the publisher said that’s becoming standard practice in the Far East. Is that the wave of the future? CD technology is 23 years old, after all, and does have space limitations. There are DVDs, true, but they don’t seem to be that durable.
A flash drive would allow one to include video. At that point, the music industry changes a lot. A video track of some sort becomes a must-have, just like drums in country music. (Deejay/veejay Len Amsterdam has been saying this for a long time.) I wonder (former advertising manager) what the packaging would be like. Flash drives are small, way smaller than CDs. You could put the liner notes—and a lot more—on the flash drive itself, digitally. What about bundling the flash drive with a poster? The thing people have complained most about in the shift of recorded music from LPs to CDs is the loss of the album covers, which were often considered works of art. Including a poster could restore that.
Maybe—and I’m dreaming, here, because it’d take money I do not presently have—the next album (not the one that’s partly “in the can,” but the one afterwards, that’d come out in maybe another year) should be issued on a flash drive (and simultaneously on DVD, just in case), with poster. I think I either have the technology to do it (though I don’t know how to use all of it), or know people who do. My record company, Outside Services Ltd., could do it on small enough a scale so it wouldn’t entail a huge investment while we saw whether it worked. It’d be a first—I haven’t seen anybody else doing this. But it’s okay to be first, as long as failure doesn’t cost a lot of money.
Joe
Saturday, November 1, 2008
RE-INVENTING MYSELF...
Ever have one of those weeks (or months) when absolutely nothing turns out right? It gets discouraging.
Didn’t get the city manager job in Wheeler—didn’t even get interviewed. Realistically, I may no longer be employable: I’ve been out of “the business” eight months now, don’t have the degree everybody’s requiring (and won’t have for at least a couple of years), and I don’t have a great track record, either. It may be time to just write off the last 15 years as a pretty good ride, and go do something else. Of course, I’m almost out of money—again. That’s not a good time to be talking about reinventing myself.
That the country appears to be sinking into another 1930s-style depression, with a national leadership (and a pending national leadership) that can most charitably be described as clueless, doesn’t help.
If this were one of those 1930s movies, me and Judy Garland would be announcing at this point (with cartoon light bulbs over our heads), “Let’s put on a show!” And we’d save the farm, generate tons of money from God knows where, and get discovered by some media mogul and limo off into the sunset.
Alas, ‘tis fantasy—a fantasy peculiar to the ‘30s, when a lot of people were pretty desperate and trying to find something to cling to. (And Judy Garland and Mickey Rooney were making pretty good money off their po’ boy schtick.) As it was, the average moviegoer probably walked back home, hunkered down again and hoped there were enough beans to feed the family one more week.
That does not mean, though, that there aren’t germs of an Action Plan in the Garland-Rooney fantasy. No, I couldn’t pull that off—not yet. I’m not well enough known. What I can concentrate on, while I’ve got time (and no money, remember) is becoming as well-known as I can. (Now, this doesn’t avoid the need to get a job. While the music “habit” can support itself (and has), it won’t support me or the family.)
Time for a “S.W.O.T.” analysis—an old planning tool used by the U.S. Forest Service back in the days when they actually did forest management. (The acronym stands for Strengths, Weaknesses, Opportunities, and Threats.) The strengths and weaknesses I’ve re-hashed unmercifully. My biggest strength is that I can write stuff, no matter where and no matter what. In addition, I’m an okay performer, can do my own graphic-design stuff, can produce my own records if I have to, and can sing and play guitar good enough to get by. And I’ve got the glimmerings of a fan base—there are people who are actually asking for the next record.
Biggest weakness—besides being almost out of money--is I am very conservative and reluctant to take risks. That’s a big one, especially in hard times, and I’m going to have to practice overcoming it. The biggest threat, I think, is running out of money.
There may be a lot of opportunities. The Saturday thing at the Tillamook library is one; I promised a poster, and volunteered to lead it, and I can help with the advertising. There’s the pre-Christmas bazaars at the Old Mill (and that pays). There are other bazaars, too (Tillamook PUD thoughtfully provided a list). I’ve got the Museum to talk to, and I’ve e-mailed the folks who run the open mike in nearby Bay City to remind them they haven’t had one in a long time (and that I can help with promotion, and bake cookies—something else I’m good at). I haven’t paid a call on county economic development about their “Taste of Tillamook” fair, and need to do that. All those opportunities can be effectively pursued with no investment of money.
The lesson, I think (there are always lessons), is there are always opportunities. Judy Garland and Mickey Rooney had that part right. No, one is not going to save the farm and get discovered and become fabulously wealthy with one show. But if one can see the top of the next step, and climb to it, one has made definable progress toward saving the farm, &c. Enough progress? In troubled times, one probably can’t worry about that. One does the best one can.
Oh, and there was one piece of good news. Friday night’s audience did like “Vampire Roumanian Babies”--a whole lot. A keeper—and definitely one for Southern Pigfish’s album, too.
Joe
Didn’t get the city manager job in Wheeler—didn’t even get interviewed. Realistically, I may no longer be employable: I’ve been out of “the business” eight months now, don’t have the degree everybody’s requiring (and won’t have for at least a couple of years), and I don’t have a great track record, either. It may be time to just write off the last 15 years as a pretty good ride, and go do something else. Of course, I’m almost out of money—again. That’s not a good time to be talking about reinventing myself.
That the country appears to be sinking into another 1930s-style depression, with a national leadership (and a pending national leadership) that can most charitably be described as clueless, doesn’t help.
If this were one of those 1930s movies, me and Judy Garland would be announcing at this point (with cartoon light bulbs over our heads), “Let’s put on a show!” And we’d save the farm, generate tons of money from God knows where, and get discovered by some media mogul and limo off into the sunset.
Alas, ‘tis fantasy—a fantasy peculiar to the ‘30s, when a lot of people were pretty desperate and trying to find something to cling to. (And Judy Garland and Mickey Rooney were making pretty good money off their po’ boy schtick.) As it was, the average moviegoer probably walked back home, hunkered down again and hoped there were enough beans to feed the family one more week.
That does not mean, though, that there aren’t germs of an Action Plan in the Garland-Rooney fantasy. No, I couldn’t pull that off—not yet. I’m not well enough known. What I can concentrate on, while I’ve got time (and no money, remember) is becoming as well-known as I can. (Now, this doesn’t avoid the need to get a job. While the music “habit” can support itself (and has), it won’t support me or the family.)
Time for a “S.W.O.T.” analysis—an old planning tool used by the U.S. Forest Service back in the days when they actually did forest management. (The acronym stands for Strengths, Weaknesses, Opportunities, and Threats.) The strengths and weaknesses I’ve re-hashed unmercifully. My biggest strength is that I can write stuff, no matter where and no matter what. In addition, I’m an okay performer, can do my own graphic-design stuff, can produce my own records if I have to, and can sing and play guitar good enough to get by. And I’ve got the glimmerings of a fan base—there are people who are actually asking for the next record.
Biggest weakness—besides being almost out of money--is I am very conservative and reluctant to take risks. That’s a big one, especially in hard times, and I’m going to have to practice overcoming it. The biggest threat, I think, is running out of money.
There may be a lot of opportunities. The Saturday thing at the Tillamook library is one; I promised a poster, and volunteered to lead it, and I can help with the advertising. There’s the pre-Christmas bazaars at the Old Mill (and that pays). There are other bazaars, too (Tillamook PUD thoughtfully provided a list). I’ve got the Museum to talk to, and I’ve e-mailed the folks who run the open mike in nearby Bay City to remind them they haven’t had one in a long time (and that I can help with promotion, and bake cookies—something else I’m good at). I haven’t paid a call on county economic development about their “Taste of Tillamook” fair, and need to do that. All those opportunities can be effectively pursued with no investment of money.
The lesson, I think (there are always lessons), is there are always opportunities. Judy Garland and Mickey Rooney had that part right. No, one is not going to save the farm and get discovered and become fabulously wealthy with one show. But if one can see the top of the next step, and climb to it, one has made definable progress toward saving the farm, &c. Enough progress? In troubled times, one probably can’t worry about that. One does the best one can.
Oh, and there was one piece of good news. Friday night’s audience did like “Vampire Roumanian Babies”--a whole lot. A keeper—and definitely one for Southern Pigfish’s album, too.
Joe
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
MORE FOR THE TO-DO LIST...
No new songs of mine, but plenty to keep me busy writing music to songs by others. I am not about to get bored any time soon.
“Tampa Stan” Good’s “I Love My Truck, My Dog and I Love Jesus” has music now; second effort, a little faster with a more prominent Gospel beat befitting the subject matter. It’s a love song, actually, not a Gospel hymn—but the title makes it sound like something you would not want to have in a hymnal.
Still one more Tampa Stan tune to put to music; his “Stay-cation” (one of a number of songs people have written in response to high fuel prices and the economic collapse) has some real commercial potential with its let’s-do-it-at-home message. Beth Williams’ waltz of the lovebirds, “Lovey Dovey,” needs to get finished, too; it could use twitters and flutters along with the music—I wonder if that’s possible to do in Audacity?
And Beth’s got another serious one, about a missing kid, that’s crying out for music as soon as the lyrics are polished. It’s another instance where a serious issue can be addressed with country music—“boldly going where no man has gone before,” as it were. The old definition of country music, “pain you can dance to,” suggests country music is a perfect vehicle for exploring social issues—the more so because it’s unexpected. Country music is generally more literate and more story-driven than other genres.
(It’s not a crusade. It’s just a little envelope-pushing, using a tool for something it hasn’t been used for before. One is in the position of the guy who tried hammering a nail with the butt end of a hatchet. Yup, looked like it oughta work. And it did.)
One more project to do in the Electronic World. It is time to do the “innerview” by Danny the dog of Internet music promoter/deejay/veejay Len Amsterdam. His Whitby Shores Website appears to be getting a sudden flood of traffic—nearly all of it musicians—which should prompt the question (for Danny to ask, and Len to answer), “Where do we go from here?” Music promotion and marketing on the Internet is still in its infancy. What might its first training pants look like?
And then there’s the Real World. There, I want to play more frequently and in more places; I want more paying gigs, and generally want to get more attention. I want to put together a band to play the paying gigs (or most of them) and to be on the next album, and if the reality is that band can’t be impromptu—if it has to stay together and play regularly—well, so be it. I deal with reality as I find it, just as I did as a city manager. If I get hired away to a job elsewhere, well, that happens, too. I can’t postpone having a life just to wait for something that may never happen.
I visited the head county librarian, fired her and her staff up about the weekly music in the library idea, volunteered to lead it for a little while; our first session will be Saturday, 13 December. I’ll do a promotional poster (might as well promote myself as a graphic artist while I’m at it) for her to distribute.
There’s the monthly jam session at the Forestry Center, too, that’ll turn into something if people keep going. I still have a paid membership in the Oregon Old Time Fiddlers Association, and they do have a chapter on the Coast; I don’t know what they do, or where, and should find out.
From the gig end, there’s the Old Mill’s Saturday market starting in November, and county economic development’s “Taste of Tillamook” festival in March. The Garibaldi Maritime Museum’s been open, and they were historically closed in the winter, and again, I should stop by; the fellow who founded the place is deceased now, but it may be his kids running the place—and if so, they used to be fans. It might be an excuse for a concert. In the entertainment papers I picked up today, all the venues that have live music by soloists are at least an hour’s drive away, mostly too far in these times of sky-high fuel prices. (That is forcing more entertainment to be local, though—and that’s an opportunity.)
And I found at the music store in Tillamook (while looking at effects pedals for the electric banjo) the new portable recording studio I’d like to have. 6-channel job (instead of 4), records to a CD (instead of a digital-camera chip) so I could work on more than one song at a time; still only 2 inputs, but it looks like either one can be guitar or mike and they can be used simultaneously. The price--$325—is good, but way too spendy for my non-existent income. Santa? Are you listening?
Joe
“Tampa Stan” Good’s “I Love My Truck, My Dog and I Love Jesus” has music now; second effort, a little faster with a more prominent Gospel beat befitting the subject matter. It’s a love song, actually, not a Gospel hymn—but the title makes it sound like something you would not want to have in a hymnal.
Still one more Tampa Stan tune to put to music; his “Stay-cation” (one of a number of songs people have written in response to high fuel prices and the economic collapse) has some real commercial potential with its let’s-do-it-at-home message. Beth Williams’ waltz of the lovebirds, “Lovey Dovey,” needs to get finished, too; it could use twitters and flutters along with the music—I wonder if that’s possible to do in Audacity?
And Beth’s got another serious one, about a missing kid, that’s crying out for music as soon as the lyrics are polished. It’s another instance where a serious issue can be addressed with country music—“boldly going where no man has gone before,” as it were. The old definition of country music, “pain you can dance to,” suggests country music is a perfect vehicle for exploring social issues—the more so because it’s unexpected. Country music is generally more literate and more story-driven than other genres.
(It’s not a crusade. It’s just a little envelope-pushing, using a tool for something it hasn’t been used for before. One is in the position of the guy who tried hammering a nail with the butt end of a hatchet. Yup, looked like it oughta work. And it did.)
One more project to do in the Electronic World. It is time to do the “innerview” by Danny the dog of Internet music promoter/deejay/veejay Len Amsterdam. His Whitby Shores Website appears to be getting a sudden flood of traffic—nearly all of it musicians—which should prompt the question (for Danny to ask, and Len to answer), “Where do we go from here?” Music promotion and marketing on the Internet is still in its infancy. What might its first training pants look like?
And then there’s the Real World. There, I want to play more frequently and in more places; I want more paying gigs, and generally want to get more attention. I want to put together a band to play the paying gigs (or most of them) and to be on the next album, and if the reality is that band can’t be impromptu—if it has to stay together and play regularly—well, so be it. I deal with reality as I find it, just as I did as a city manager. If I get hired away to a job elsewhere, well, that happens, too. I can’t postpone having a life just to wait for something that may never happen.
I visited the head county librarian, fired her and her staff up about the weekly music in the library idea, volunteered to lead it for a little while; our first session will be Saturday, 13 December. I’ll do a promotional poster (might as well promote myself as a graphic artist while I’m at it) for her to distribute.
There’s the monthly jam session at the Forestry Center, too, that’ll turn into something if people keep going. I still have a paid membership in the Oregon Old Time Fiddlers Association, and they do have a chapter on the Coast; I don’t know what they do, or where, and should find out.
From the gig end, there’s the Old Mill’s Saturday market starting in November, and county economic development’s “Taste of Tillamook” festival in March. The Garibaldi Maritime Museum’s been open, and they were historically closed in the winter, and again, I should stop by; the fellow who founded the place is deceased now, but it may be his kids running the place—and if so, they used to be fans. It might be an excuse for a concert. In the entertainment papers I picked up today, all the venues that have live music by soloists are at least an hour’s drive away, mostly too far in these times of sky-high fuel prices. (That is forcing more entertainment to be local, though—and that’s an opportunity.)
And I found at the music store in Tillamook (while looking at effects pedals for the electric banjo) the new portable recording studio I’d like to have. 6-channel job (instead of 4), records to a CD (instead of a digital-camera chip) so I could work on more than one song at a time; still only 2 inputs, but it looks like either one can be guitar or mike and they can be used simultaneously. The price--$325—is good, but way too spendy for my non-existent income. Santa? Are you listening?
Joe
Saturday, October 18, 2008
BAND THOUGHTS...
Somebody in the audience at the Friday Night Group performance asked for “Valvoline,” an old (1980) Dodson Drifters hit (it was the first of my songs ever to get airplay). So of course we played it—a lot of folks had never heard it before, but it’s simple to follow, and we did have people up dancing. Nice to know somebody remembers it and liked it. “Valvoline” is usually the example I give people when they worry about “genre”—it was written by a country-music writer (me), recorded by a bluegrass band, first aired on a jazz station in Portland, Oregon (it was probably the dual saxophone leads that got their attention), and was last being performed on stage a couple of years ago by a rock ‘n’ roll band. So what “genre” is it?
And I tracked down—finally—the author of a song I’d “musicated” a couple of years ago. Her name is Tarra Young, and the song had been written for a friend who was dying. It was one of those where I’d tweaked the lyrics a lot in the course of setting it to music, and I’d apologized copiously when I sent her the recording. And then I never heard anything. E-mails didn’t get answered, her Website was gone, and so on. It was a pretty good song—real tear-jerker—and I still had it on the computer, and wondered a lot over those couple of years what I ought to do about it if the author had up and disappeared.
Well, she hadn’t. I finally located a Soundclick page with her name on it, and yes, she’s still writing—mostly Christian music, it seems. And one of the songs on her page, hight “Angel,” is the one I set to music. And she used my recording, exactly the way I’d sent it to her. And apparently, people have been listening to it, too. Nice validation, there. I think I done okay.
Applied for yet another city-manager job, this one in Washington; I don’t know if they’ll be interested in me, and won’t hear anything before the end of the month. I would like to get the job that’s closer to home, but have no idea (again) if I’ll even get interviewed. There are relatively few jobs out there, and a lot of competition for the few I might be qualified for.
Still, it’s an opportunity to fantasize about how I might make a name for myself in a new community. There are both opportunities and difficulties everywhere I go. I need three things, I think: places to play, opportunities to play, and people to play with. If they don’t exist, they have to be created. Here on the northern Oregon Coast, the dearth of opportunities and places seems to be greatest for solo performers—of which I, at the moment, am one. There are gigs—mostly tavern gigs—for bands, but relatively few bands; the same names keep showing up over and over.
And there is virtually no original music. (I’d forgotten what that was like.) Here on the northern Oregon Coast, I am just about the only songwriter I know. That’s not a bad thing—my material is danceable, and playable, and fits right in with everybody’s covers, and I have my Standard Mantra that I can’t perform most other people’s stuff because I don’t have the voice range. Still, it’s a distinct contrast with southern Oregon, where almost all the music you’d hear, good and bad, was original, and there were some venues that wouldn’t book anything but original music. It’s not going to affect what I do, because I do have the voice-range problem, and entertainment is entertainment—it doesn’t matter who wrote it, or even if it’s familiar, as long as it’s good and people can dance to it.
So Joe needs a band. How does he get one? Well, first Joe has got to get out more, get to know more people, and see what the market is like. The Friday Night Group is a big thing, but not enough. If there aren’t more venues to play, create (or help create) them. For instance, the head county librarian, who’s become a regular at the Friday Night Group sessions, wants to start something similar on Saturday afternoons at the Main Library in Tillamook, and I volunteered to come. There are a few folks determined to make the jam sessions at the State Forestry Center, 30 miles away, a regular thing; I’ll go with them (might have to carpool). If I get the city manager job in Wheeler, I’ll see if I can start live music at a local restaurant. (There’s only a couple.) And everywhere I run into other musicians, if they’re any good, they get the spiel, “This would sound a whole lot better with a band.”
Another good way to run into musicians is to help promote a musical event. That’s an additional advantage of helping with next year’s Harvest Festival—but I bet the “Moograss” Bluegrass Festival could use help, too.
UPDATES: There was a front-page article (a small one) about the Harvest Festival in the paper, but it didn’t mention me, and didn’t include my picture. (Not surprising—the photo was taken in the sunlight, and there was no sunlight in the pole barn where I was playing.) I’m supposed to get my free copy of the Philippine Christmas album with my song on it in a couple of weeks. And the Old Mill (an old plywood mill turned RV park in Garibaldi) is starting up their pre-Christmas Saturday crafts market, with entertainment; I didn’t get to play last year, because I was working out of town, but I want to be one of their performers this year. It pays, even—and I could use the money.
Joe
And I tracked down—finally—the author of a song I’d “musicated” a couple of years ago. Her name is Tarra Young, and the song had been written for a friend who was dying. It was one of those where I’d tweaked the lyrics a lot in the course of setting it to music, and I’d apologized copiously when I sent her the recording. And then I never heard anything. E-mails didn’t get answered, her Website was gone, and so on. It was a pretty good song—real tear-jerker—and I still had it on the computer, and wondered a lot over those couple of years what I ought to do about it if the author had up and disappeared.
Well, she hadn’t. I finally located a Soundclick page with her name on it, and yes, she’s still writing—mostly Christian music, it seems. And one of the songs on her page, hight “Angel,” is the one I set to music. And she used my recording, exactly the way I’d sent it to her. And apparently, people have been listening to it, too. Nice validation, there. I think I done okay.
Applied for yet another city-manager job, this one in Washington; I don’t know if they’ll be interested in me, and won’t hear anything before the end of the month. I would like to get the job that’s closer to home, but have no idea (again) if I’ll even get interviewed. There are relatively few jobs out there, and a lot of competition for the few I might be qualified for.
Still, it’s an opportunity to fantasize about how I might make a name for myself in a new community. There are both opportunities and difficulties everywhere I go. I need three things, I think: places to play, opportunities to play, and people to play with. If they don’t exist, they have to be created. Here on the northern Oregon Coast, the dearth of opportunities and places seems to be greatest for solo performers—of which I, at the moment, am one. There are gigs—mostly tavern gigs—for bands, but relatively few bands; the same names keep showing up over and over.
And there is virtually no original music. (I’d forgotten what that was like.) Here on the northern Oregon Coast, I am just about the only songwriter I know. That’s not a bad thing—my material is danceable, and playable, and fits right in with everybody’s covers, and I have my Standard Mantra that I can’t perform most other people’s stuff because I don’t have the voice range. Still, it’s a distinct contrast with southern Oregon, where almost all the music you’d hear, good and bad, was original, and there were some venues that wouldn’t book anything but original music. It’s not going to affect what I do, because I do have the voice-range problem, and entertainment is entertainment—it doesn’t matter who wrote it, or even if it’s familiar, as long as it’s good and people can dance to it.
So Joe needs a band. How does he get one? Well, first Joe has got to get out more, get to know more people, and see what the market is like. The Friday Night Group is a big thing, but not enough. If there aren’t more venues to play, create (or help create) them. For instance, the head county librarian, who’s become a regular at the Friday Night Group sessions, wants to start something similar on Saturday afternoons at the Main Library in Tillamook, and I volunteered to come. There are a few folks determined to make the jam sessions at the State Forestry Center, 30 miles away, a regular thing; I’ll go with them (might have to carpool). If I get the city manager job in Wheeler, I’ll see if I can start live music at a local restaurant. (There’s only a couple.) And everywhere I run into other musicians, if they’re any good, they get the spiel, “This would sound a whole lot better with a band.”
Another good way to run into musicians is to help promote a musical event. That’s an additional advantage of helping with next year’s Harvest Festival—but I bet the “Moograss” Bluegrass Festival could use help, too.
UPDATES: There was a front-page article (a small one) about the Harvest Festival in the paper, but it didn’t mention me, and didn’t include my picture. (Not surprising—the photo was taken in the sunlight, and there was no sunlight in the pole barn where I was playing.) I’m supposed to get my free copy of the Philippine Christmas album with my song on it in a couple of weeks. And the Old Mill (an old plywood mill turned RV park in Garibaldi) is starting up their pre-Christmas Saturday crafts market, with entertainment; I didn’t get to play last year, because I was working out of town, but I want to be one of their performers this year. It pays, even—and I could use the money.
Joe
Thursday, October 16, 2008
RECORDING & PUBLISHING...
RECORDING SONGS WITH A BAND: I have a couple of ways I can go, I think. I know a number of musicians within reasonable traveling distance—a couple of bass players, couple decent lead guitarists, couple of harmonica players, a female singer—and I could record their tracks one by one in person. I might even know a drummer—the pastor of one of our local churches, who showed up at one of the Friday Night Group sessions.
Alternatively, I can use people on line—probably different people, because the folks I’d record personally mostly don’t “do” Internet. (One of them doesn’t even own a computer.) If we were doing it on line, I’d send (or post somewhere) a “base” track, and have them e-mail me their contributions. That could be interesting, because I know some online musicians who play some really strange instruments.
And those aren’t mutually exclusive options, either. I could do a blend of both.
In both cases, I’d need to be mixing multiple tracks, and that probably means using the computer to do it—and that means learning to use Audacity, which thus far I’ve avoided doing. I did use Audacity experimentally to record the tracks for Beth Williams’ Hallowe’en song, “The Well in the Glade,” but I actually got better results just mixing it on the Tascam. (The one sound effect—called a “gloop”—I added in Audacity.)
PUBLISHING: Kristi Lee Cook, the Selma (OR) girl who became a several-weeks’ wonder in southern Oregon by becoming an American Idol finalist, has an album out; that sort of thing happens a lot with failed A.I. contestants. And the album is being pretty roundly panned by the critics—not because of Kristi’s singing (she is good), but because of the material (“it’s not her” and “standard Nashville drivel” were among the comments). It’s probably not surprising; the Really Famous People get to pluck the best of the output from the Music Machine, and the leavings just aren’t very good. (The “best” wasn’t very good to begin with.)
That underscores the need—expressed here earlier—for some sort of mechanism to connect regionally famous artists with material that isn’t part of the Music Machine. There is a market that is in need of good material, and there is good material (I heard a lot of it in southern Oregon) that isn’t getting to market. Why couldn’t (for example) Kristi, a very popular southern Oregon girl, put out an album of songs entirely written by people from southern Oregon? Songs that would not only fit her style, and convey the image she wants to project, and showcase her voice, but also would be better written songs than anything the Big Boys are offering? Wouldn’t an album like that sell?
One of the things a publisher does, I think, is contact the artist, and say, “Hey, I think I’ve got something; if you like it, have your record label call me and we can do a deal.” The publisher acts as the filter on the writer end, making sure the artist only gets material that has a good chance of being suitable; presumably, the artist also has a filter, in the form of an agent or manager—most regionally famous performers do, I think (the Dodson Drifters had an agent—he didn’t handle material, but if you wanted to talk to us, you had to go through the agent).
The point—reiterated before—is that the regionally famous folks may be easier to reach (if one can only figure out how), because their filters have less of an agenda of their own.
MARKETABILITY: Looking realistically, it’s the co-writes I’ve done with other folks, not the songs that are exclusively mine, that have the greatest potential for commercial success. These are the ones an outside artist—somebody who’s already sorta famous—would be likely to want to record.
Beth Williams’ “The Well in the Glade” is a bona fide new Hallowe’en song idea (and those are hard to come by); Donna Devine’s “Sometimes She Could Scream” tackles a serious social issue (in country music, of all things), Marge Mckinnis’ “So Far” and “About Love” are classic love songs (and “So Far” did make #28 in Goodnight Kiss’s contest this year—not high enough to get on the album, but hopefully high enough to get noticed). Rev. Skip Johnson’s hymn, “Tune the Striings of My Soul,” may appeal mostly to a Christian market, but the Christian music market is a big one. There are more. What can we do with those?
Joe
Alternatively, I can use people on line—probably different people, because the folks I’d record personally mostly don’t “do” Internet. (One of them doesn’t even own a computer.) If we were doing it on line, I’d send (or post somewhere) a “base” track, and have them e-mail me their contributions. That could be interesting, because I know some online musicians who play some really strange instruments.
And those aren’t mutually exclusive options, either. I could do a blend of both.
In both cases, I’d need to be mixing multiple tracks, and that probably means using the computer to do it—and that means learning to use Audacity, which thus far I’ve avoided doing. I did use Audacity experimentally to record the tracks for Beth Williams’ Hallowe’en song, “The Well in the Glade,” but I actually got better results just mixing it on the Tascam. (The one sound effect—called a “gloop”—I added in Audacity.)
PUBLISHING: Kristi Lee Cook, the Selma (OR) girl who became a several-weeks’ wonder in southern Oregon by becoming an American Idol finalist, has an album out; that sort of thing happens a lot with failed A.I. contestants. And the album is being pretty roundly panned by the critics—not because of Kristi’s singing (she is good), but because of the material (“it’s not her” and “standard Nashville drivel” were among the comments). It’s probably not surprising; the Really Famous People get to pluck the best of the output from the Music Machine, and the leavings just aren’t very good. (The “best” wasn’t very good to begin with.)
That underscores the need—expressed here earlier—for some sort of mechanism to connect regionally famous artists with material that isn’t part of the Music Machine. There is a market that is in need of good material, and there is good material (I heard a lot of it in southern Oregon) that isn’t getting to market. Why couldn’t (for example) Kristi, a very popular southern Oregon girl, put out an album of songs entirely written by people from southern Oregon? Songs that would not only fit her style, and convey the image she wants to project, and showcase her voice, but also would be better written songs than anything the Big Boys are offering? Wouldn’t an album like that sell?
One of the things a publisher does, I think, is contact the artist, and say, “Hey, I think I’ve got something; if you like it, have your record label call me and we can do a deal.” The publisher acts as the filter on the writer end, making sure the artist only gets material that has a good chance of being suitable; presumably, the artist also has a filter, in the form of an agent or manager—most regionally famous performers do, I think (the Dodson Drifters had an agent—he didn’t handle material, but if you wanted to talk to us, you had to go through the agent).
The point—reiterated before—is that the regionally famous folks may be easier to reach (if one can only figure out how), because their filters have less of an agenda of their own.
MARKETABILITY: Looking realistically, it’s the co-writes I’ve done with other folks, not the songs that are exclusively mine, that have the greatest potential for commercial success. These are the ones an outside artist—somebody who’s already sorta famous—would be likely to want to record.
Beth Williams’ “The Well in the Glade” is a bona fide new Hallowe’en song idea (and those are hard to come by); Donna Devine’s “Sometimes She Could Scream” tackles a serious social issue (in country music, of all things), Marge Mckinnis’ “So Far” and “About Love” are classic love songs (and “So Far” did make #28 in Goodnight Kiss’s contest this year—not high enough to get on the album, but hopefully high enough to get noticed). Rev. Skip Johnson’s hymn, “Tune the Striings of My Soul,” may appeal mostly to a Christian market, but the Christian music market is a big one. There are more. What can we do with those?
Joe
Monday, October 13, 2008
THE HARVEST FESTIVAL...
The Harvest Festival gig went well, I think. It recalled Mick Jagger’s famous proverb: “You can’t always get what you want—but if you try, sometimes you just might find you get what you need.”
I didn’t get what I wanted—hundreds of adoring fans hanging on every word, selling all my remaining CDs (all 8 of them), and getting a fat check from the school at the end of the show—and I probably shouldn’t have bothered wanting it. I’ve played the Harvest Festival before. The entertainment is virtually background music; you’re competing with food and crafts vendors, and if anybody did listen to you, they may tell you afterwards, and they may not. The big old pole barn where the music (and everything else) is may be dry, but it’s cold because it’s October, and it has no sides, so if there’s a wind (which there was), it can get mighty uncomfortable (which it did).
On the other hand, I did get precisely what I needed. There was an announcement in the local paper, and the paper did have a reporter there, and he did take my picture, and all that was because I’d contacted someone I knew at the paper. I got to buttonhole the fellow who booked the entertainment afterwards, and plant the idea (also planted with the newspaper editor) that the Harvest Festival had the potential to become the Big Event of the fall, because nothing else was happening. I also volunteered to help with promotion next time.
Only one person showed up from the Friday Night Group audience, but she did come (and hopefully she’ll tell others how good it was). A few people openly liked the stuff; one was a vendor, and another was the sound engineer. And the 13 songs came in at precisely one hour, to the minute. The fellow who was on after me was good, but played for longer than an hour and started to get boring. I’m glad I didn’t volunteer to play longer.
What went over best? “I’m Giving Mom a Dead Dog for Christmas,” of course—it always does. (That’s why I usually have it as the closing song.) “Doing Battle with the Lawn” got some attention, too, mostly (I think) from guys. And “Armadillo on the Interstate,” maybe mostly from girls, because it’s a love story.
We’ll see what the paper says, but I probably have enough from this gig to follow up with. The first big festival coming up is the “Taste of Tillamook” in mid-March, put on by county economic development. I’m sure they don’t book their entertainment five months ahead of time—but it’s worthwhile telling them they should. And I’ll have more impact showing up at their doorstep right after something about me appears in the paper.
Time to record “The Well in the Glade,” Beth Williams’ Hallowe’en waltz. (Actually, it was my idea to have it be a waltz—and it’ll only be a waltz in the verses. The chorus will be a fast two-step in a minor key. Reminiscent of Hank Williams’ “Kaw-liga,” only with demons instead of wooden Indians.) First time I recorded it, the chorus (the two-step part) didn’t sound creepy enough.
This was my opportunity to experiment with the Audacity program, which I’ve had on my computer for months but never used except for generating click tracks. All I did this time around was record tracks separately on the Tascam, mix them on the Tascam (matching each up to a basic rhythm guitar track to control the volume), and then dump them into Audacity and do what the program calls a “quick mix”—just merging the files together without making any other changes. Added one Hallowe’en sound effect from my “library.”
Lining up the various tracks so they all started at the right time was actually a snap, because Audacity is very visual—I didn’t even have to have the sound on to do it, because I could see where sounds started and ended. Didn’t come out bad, in my opinion—but that’s my opinion; the opinion that counts here is Beth’s, because she’s the author. And I don’t know that yet.
Joe
I didn’t get what I wanted—hundreds of adoring fans hanging on every word, selling all my remaining CDs (all 8 of them), and getting a fat check from the school at the end of the show—and I probably shouldn’t have bothered wanting it. I’ve played the Harvest Festival before. The entertainment is virtually background music; you’re competing with food and crafts vendors, and if anybody did listen to you, they may tell you afterwards, and they may not. The big old pole barn where the music (and everything else) is may be dry, but it’s cold because it’s October, and it has no sides, so if there’s a wind (which there was), it can get mighty uncomfortable (which it did).
On the other hand, I did get precisely what I needed. There was an announcement in the local paper, and the paper did have a reporter there, and he did take my picture, and all that was because I’d contacted someone I knew at the paper. I got to buttonhole the fellow who booked the entertainment afterwards, and plant the idea (also planted with the newspaper editor) that the Harvest Festival had the potential to become the Big Event of the fall, because nothing else was happening. I also volunteered to help with promotion next time.
Only one person showed up from the Friday Night Group audience, but she did come (and hopefully she’ll tell others how good it was). A few people openly liked the stuff; one was a vendor, and another was the sound engineer. And the 13 songs came in at precisely one hour, to the minute. The fellow who was on after me was good, but played for longer than an hour and started to get boring. I’m glad I didn’t volunteer to play longer.
What went over best? “I’m Giving Mom a Dead Dog for Christmas,” of course—it always does. (That’s why I usually have it as the closing song.) “Doing Battle with the Lawn” got some attention, too, mostly (I think) from guys. And “Armadillo on the Interstate,” maybe mostly from girls, because it’s a love story.
We’ll see what the paper says, but I probably have enough from this gig to follow up with. The first big festival coming up is the “Taste of Tillamook” in mid-March, put on by county economic development. I’m sure they don’t book their entertainment five months ahead of time—but it’s worthwhile telling them they should. And I’ll have more impact showing up at their doorstep right after something about me appears in the paper.
Time to record “The Well in the Glade,” Beth Williams’ Hallowe’en waltz. (Actually, it was my idea to have it be a waltz—and it’ll only be a waltz in the verses. The chorus will be a fast two-step in a minor key. Reminiscent of Hank Williams’ “Kaw-liga,” only with demons instead of wooden Indians.) First time I recorded it, the chorus (the two-step part) didn’t sound creepy enough.
This was my opportunity to experiment with the Audacity program, which I’ve had on my computer for months but never used except for generating click tracks. All I did this time around was record tracks separately on the Tascam, mix them on the Tascam (matching each up to a basic rhythm guitar track to control the volume), and then dump them into Audacity and do what the program calls a “quick mix”—just merging the files together without making any other changes. Added one Hallowe’en sound effect from my “library.”
Lining up the various tracks so they all started at the right time was actually a snap, because Audacity is very visual—I didn’t even have to have the sound on to do it, because I could see where sounds started and ended. Didn’t come out bad, in my opinion—but that’s my opinion; the opinion that counts here is Beth’s, because she’s the author. And I don’t know that yet.
Joe
Thursday, October 9, 2008
THREE DAYS WITHOUT THE INTERNET...
THREE DAYS WITH NO INTERNET… That’s what Embarq-nee-Sprint-the-phone-company said when I told them their DSL modem gave up the ghost. (Giving up the ghost is probably an appropriate Hallowe’en activity.) That’s how long it’ll take Embarq to get a new modem here from wherever it is they come from. The speed and equanimity with which they accepted the idea their equipment had broken down suggests it’s a rather frequent occurrence.
(Obviously, this was written while the Internet was gone, and posted after I got it back.)
I have in fact plenty to do, none of it requiring Internet, and almost no tasks pending that do require Internet. I have one more part to record for Rose’s Halllowe’en radio play (a Canadian mountie), and I can’t even read the part to record it until I have Internet back; it will just have to wait. The newspaper reporter I’d e-mailed about the Harvest Festival gig I can call on the phone.
Otherwise, I’ve got clothes and belongings to unpack, and furniture to move around and find a place for; I’ve been living away from my fambly for my last two jobs—the past three years--just visiting whenever the price of gas permitted. I’ll finally get my glasses fixed, and help the next-door neighbor replace a section of fence on the one day it’s not supposed to rain. I’ve got one more job to apply for (it’s out of town), and Saturday’s gig to get ready for.
MORE PUBLISHING THOUGHTS: The publisher’s biggest function, I think, is marketing. The publisher has a song, to which he’s acquired the publishing rights, and wants to license that song to somebody who will make a whole bunch of records with that song on it. It needs to be a whole bunch of records, because the copyright royalties will only amount to pennies per record. The author will get half free and clear, and the publisher will get half—and hopefully make a profit after recouping all his expenses. There are additional—smaller—revenues from radio airplay (provided the artist is big enough to get noticed by the statistics machines) and Internet downloads from outfits like iTunes and Rhapsody.
Now, I’m creating my publishing company primarily to take care of a couple of legal hassles; I want to ensure my songs can be played on the radio, and I have to make sure the co-authors of a couple of songs on the upcoming CD get paid their rightful shares, because those records, like the last ones, are going to be sold. It of course won’t amount to a lot of money.
But I’d be remiss if I didn’t try to use the existence of a publishing company to market some of my stuff to somebody who could produce more records than I can. Having identified a “target market”—the regionally famous artists and bands—and having determined that there is a need among those folks for good original material to perform and record, how do I meet that need? Or can I?
A realistic assessment of the material, first. There are probably a lot of my songs nobody’s likely to want to touch, either because they’re just too strange or because they don’t fit the image the artist or band is trying to project of themselves. That may be a shortsighted view on their part—people want to hear my songs, but not because it’s me that’s performing them—but that attitude exists, and I have to deal with it. That said, my more serious-sounding songs are probably fair game. So are the ones—“Bluebird on My Windshield,” “Hank’s Song,” and “I’m Giving Mom a Dead Dog for Christmas,” for instance—that already are being performed Out There by other people.
How to find those people? Deliberate Random Chance, I think—which is a fancy way of saying “I don’t know.” Catching a record review of southern Oregon’s American Idol escapee was pure chance—but it’s something to follow up on. One can attend performances by regionally important bands and artists, and just ask them (they’re more approachable than famous people), “You guys ever do anything by somebody who isn’t already famous? I might have something that’d work for you, if you’re interested.” And I expect it works like the real estate business, in that over 90% of the time the answer will be “No.”
It’s important, too, to stay in touch with the recording studios—the ones that do professional work, anyway—to find out who’s recording, and where they’re getting their material, and what’s it like, and how do you talk to them. A lot of hunting and not many contacts, probably, because I’m dealing with a very small inventory (just my songs) and a small market, too (those who do country music).
And then what happens when I run into a situation where I know my stuff isn’t going to work, but that of somebody else I know probably will? This is where publishers end up “handling” other authors besides themselves, even if they didn’t intend to. What do I do with those? I don’t know.
Joe
(Obviously, this was written while the Internet was gone, and posted after I got it back.)
I have in fact plenty to do, none of it requiring Internet, and almost no tasks pending that do require Internet. I have one more part to record for Rose’s Halllowe’en radio play (a Canadian mountie), and I can’t even read the part to record it until I have Internet back; it will just have to wait. The newspaper reporter I’d e-mailed about the Harvest Festival gig I can call on the phone.
Otherwise, I’ve got clothes and belongings to unpack, and furniture to move around and find a place for; I’ve been living away from my fambly for my last two jobs—the past three years--just visiting whenever the price of gas permitted. I’ll finally get my glasses fixed, and help the next-door neighbor replace a section of fence on the one day it’s not supposed to rain. I’ve got one more job to apply for (it’s out of town), and Saturday’s gig to get ready for.
MORE PUBLISHING THOUGHTS: The publisher’s biggest function, I think, is marketing. The publisher has a song, to which he’s acquired the publishing rights, and wants to license that song to somebody who will make a whole bunch of records with that song on it. It needs to be a whole bunch of records, because the copyright royalties will only amount to pennies per record. The author will get half free and clear, and the publisher will get half—and hopefully make a profit after recouping all his expenses. There are additional—smaller—revenues from radio airplay (provided the artist is big enough to get noticed by the statistics machines) and Internet downloads from outfits like iTunes and Rhapsody.
Now, I’m creating my publishing company primarily to take care of a couple of legal hassles; I want to ensure my songs can be played on the radio, and I have to make sure the co-authors of a couple of songs on the upcoming CD get paid their rightful shares, because those records, like the last ones, are going to be sold. It of course won’t amount to a lot of money.
But I’d be remiss if I didn’t try to use the existence of a publishing company to market some of my stuff to somebody who could produce more records than I can. Having identified a “target market”—the regionally famous artists and bands—and having determined that there is a need among those folks for good original material to perform and record, how do I meet that need? Or can I?
A realistic assessment of the material, first. There are probably a lot of my songs nobody’s likely to want to touch, either because they’re just too strange or because they don’t fit the image the artist or band is trying to project of themselves. That may be a shortsighted view on their part—people want to hear my songs, but not because it’s me that’s performing them—but that attitude exists, and I have to deal with it. That said, my more serious-sounding songs are probably fair game. So are the ones—“Bluebird on My Windshield,” “Hank’s Song,” and “I’m Giving Mom a Dead Dog for Christmas,” for instance—that already are being performed Out There by other people.
How to find those people? Deliberate Random Chance, I think—which is a fancy way of saying “I don’t know.” Catching a record review of southern Oregon’s American Idol escapee was pure chance—but it’s something to follow up on. One can attend performances by regionally important bands and artists, and just ask them (they’re more approachable than famous people), “You guys ever do anything by somebody who isn’t already famous? I might have something that’d work for you, if you’re interested.” And I expect it works like the real estate business, in that over 90% of the time the answer will be “No.”
It’s important, too, to stay in touch with the recording studios—the ones that do professional work, anyway—to find out who’s recording, and where they’re getting their material, and what’s it like, and how do you talk to them. A lot of hunting and not many contacts, probably, because I’m dealing with a very small inventory (just my songs) and a small market, too (those who do country music).
And then what happens when I run into a situation where I know my stuff isn’t going to work, but that of somebody else I know probably will? This is where publishers end up “handling” other authors besides themselves, even if they didn’t intend to. What do I do with those? I don’t know.
Joe
Friday, October 3, 2008
HARVEST FESTIVAL PREPARATIONS...
Here’s the draft setlist for the Harvest Festival concert:
Dead Things in the Shower
Eatin’ Cornflakes from a Hubcap Blues
Bluebird on My Windshield
Armadillo on the Interstate
Doing Battle with the Lawn
Tillamook Railroad Blues
Dead Fishes
Welcome to Hebo Waltz
When They Die, I Put Them in the Cookies
Hey, Little Chicken
Bungee Jumpin’ Jesus
No Good Songs About the War
I’m Giving Mom a Dead Dog for Christmas
And if I get asked to do an encore, it’ll be (I think) “Santa’s Fallen and He Can’t Get Up.” I’ll take the rest of my CDs (there aren’t many left from the last pressing, which was the fourth) and offer to donate half the proceeds to the school (which could use the money).
13 songs, roughly half of them fast (and alternating with blues, waltzes, and really sleazy-sounding slow country). Eight are about dead animals—we’ve got dead cats, dead dogs, dead birds, dead fish, dead armadillos, and miscellaneous dead things in the cookies. Plus, while the chicken doesn’t die in the song, its fate is clear. Two serious songs, one about pollution (“Dead Fishes”) and one about the war. It’s going to be a fairly liberal audience, so that should be okay. If I run short of time, I’ll take the war song out.
I haven’t seen any advertising of the Festival, and have offered my services in that capacity. Posters should be up now, press releases to the newspapers (two of them, both weeklies), radio stations alerted, and so forth. The Festival is only a week and half away. From my end, I’ll do posters of me, notify the “joelist,” send bulletins to the “friends” on MySpace, and announce it the next two times the Friday Night Group gets together. I’ll also e-mail the one reporter I know at the Tillamook paper (he’s a news reporter, not a social reporter—but he used to be the editor). No stone unturned, as they say.
“Vampire Roumanian Babies” is recorded. I set up the “studio” equipment in the computer room on the second floor of the house—it’s warmer there, and winter is definitely on its way. Set in a different key from normal, so it’d be easier to use a Dylan voice (it’s hard to say “vampire Roumanian babies” without sounding like Dylan).
Judging from the comments I’ve received, I probably hit some folks’ hot buttons with that song, so it may not be a “keeper.” However, I think I’ll still try it out on the Friday Night Group and see how it goes over. The Friday before Hallowe’en, the group tries to play only Hallowe’en songs, and that usually limits me to just a couple of covers I can sing—“Another Man Done Gone,” Shel Silverstein’s ode to voodoo queen Marie Laveau (made famous by Bobby Bare), and Merle Haggard’s “Miner’s Silver Ghost” (which was a hit for The Dodson Drifters, but not, mysteriously, for Merle). There aren’t many good Hallowe’en songs, and it would be nice to have contributed one to the genre—but I don’t know whether I have.
Going through The List again, I have managed to write, on average, one good song a month. Four of them, I think, are probably inclusions for the next album: “Doing Battle with the Lawn,” “Dead Fishes,” “Electronic Love,” and “When They Die, I Put Them in the Cookies. “Dead Fishes” can be the serious song on the album (I try to have only one).
Who will—or can—be “the band” for the next album? Most likely prospects are the Friday Night Group, if I’m still in Garibaldi (and right now, it looks like that will be the case). They’d have to be recorded “live and in concert”—they don’t “do” studio work that well—and that means I’d be looking at the one sound engineer in the area who says he has experience recording live concerts. The alternative is probably putting together a band, which I may want to do anyway. I like playing with a band.
Joe
Dead Things in the Shower
Eatin’ Cornflakes from a Hubcap Blues
Bluebird on My Windshield
Armadillo on the Interstate
Doing Battle with the Lawn
Tillamook Railroad Blues
Dead Fishes
Welcome to Hebo Waltz
When They Die, I Put Them in the Cookies
Hey, Little Chicken
Bungee Jumpin’ Jesus
No Good Songs About the War
I’m Giving Mom a Dead Dog for Christmas
And if I get asked to do an encore, it’ll be (I think) “Santa’s Fallen and He Can’t Get Up.” I’ll take the rest of my CDs (there aren’t many left from the last pressing, which was the fourth) and offer to donate half the proceeds to the school (which could use the money).
13 songs, roughly half of them fast (and alternating with blues, waltzes, and really sleazy-sounding slow country). Eight are about dead animals—we’ve got dead cats, dead dogs, dead birds, dead fish, dead armadillos, and miscellaneous dead things in the cookies. Plus, while the chicken doesn’t die in the song, its fate is clear. Two serious songs, one about pollution (“Dead Fishes”) and one about the war. It’s going to be a fairly liberal audience, so that should be okay. If I run short of time, I’ll take the war song out.
I haven’t seen any advertising of the Festival, and have offered my services in that capacity. Posters should be up now, press releases to the newspapers (two of them, both weeklies), radio stations alerted, and so forth. The Festival is only a week and half away. From my end, I’ll do posters of me, notify the “joelist,” send bulletins to the “friends” on MySpace, and announce it the next two times the Friday Night Group gets together. I’ll also e-mail the one reporter I know at the Tillamook paper (he’s a news reporter, not a social reporter—but he used to be the editor). No stone unturned, as they say.
“Vampire Roumanian Babies” is recorded. I set up the “studio” equipment in the computer room on the second floor of the house—it’s warmer there, and winter is definitely on its way. Set in a different key from normal, so it’d be easier to use a Dylan voice (it’s hard to say “vampire Roumanian babies” without sounding like Dylan).
Judging from the comments I’ve received, I probably hit some folks’ hot buttons with that song, so it may not be a “keeper.” However, I think I’ll still try it out on the Friday Night Group and see how it goes over. The Friday before Hallowe’en, the group tries to play only Hallowe’en songs, and that usually limits me to just a couple of covers I can sing—“Another Man Done Gone,” Shel Silverstein’s ode to voodoo queen Marie Laveau (made famous by Bobby Bare), and Merle Haggard’s “Miner’s Silver Ghost” (which was a hit for The Dodson Drifters, but not, mysteriously, for Merle). There aren’t many good Hallowe’en songs, and it would be nice to have contributed one to the genre—but I don’t know whether I have.
Going through The List again, I have managed to write, on average, one good song a month. Four of them, I think, are probably inclusions for the next album: “Doing Battle with the Lawn,” “Dead Fishes,” “Electronic Love,” and “When They Die, I Put Them in the Cookies. “Dead Fishes” can be the serious song on the album (I try to have only one).
Who will—or can—be “the band” for the next album? Most likely prospects are the Friday Night Group, if I’m still in Garibaldi (and right now, it looks like that will be the case). They’d have to be recorded “live and in concert”—they don’t “do” studio work that well—and that means I’d be looking at the one sound engineer in the area who says he has experience recording live concerts. The alternative is probably putting together a band, which I may want to do anyway. I like playing with a band.
Joe
Saturday, September 27, 2008
A (VERY LITTLE) GOOD NEWS...
UPDATES: I posted “You Could Be The One,” the T-Poe poem I set to music, on my MySpace page (T-Poe hasn’t put it on his). One last room in the Squirrel House (what was my bedroom while I was there) to sweep and vacuum, window to fix in the shed out back, and the lawn to mow (still haven’t done that), and I’m done. Time to move back to Garibaldi, wait for my retirement check to arrive from AIG, and register for college if there’s still time. (There should be.)
“Alice” the computer is already back in Garibaldi, as are the guitars and banjo; I’ll be away for a couple of days while I’m moving the remainder of the belongings. Some more jobs to apply for when I get back to Garibaldi. I haven’t decided whether the studio should stay in the garage, or go up on the second floor of the house, where the computer room is. Winter is coming on, and the garage is uninsulated.
The Harvest Festival gig will happen—SATURDAY, 11 OCTOBER, at NOON. I’ll finally get to send another gig notice out to the “joelist” (I wonder if they remember me?) and to the “friends” on MySpace. Setlist to work out—I’ll be playing solo, will have an hour (12 to 13 songs), and it’ll be a family crowd, with a lot of kids. The Harvest Festival is the biggest fundraiser of the year for the Neskowin Valley School, which is a little private school in way-south Tillamook County. This will be the third time I’ve performed there (and the first time in two years).
NEW MATERIAL: Did music for another Gospel song, this one by a Regina Michelle, whom I ran across on the Muse’s Muse writers’ site. The song is overtly religious, but was okay to work with—it comes across like one of the old Holy Roller “shouters,” and was a lot of fun to do. And she said she used to be a singer; maybe she can sing it if I send her just the music. At this point, she has a draft, with me singing, which she said she liked (and reportedly posted on her MySpace page).
And I have another song of mine I’m working on, too. Madonna’s announcement recently that she was adopting an African baby (because it was “trendy”) prompted the question, “But what about all the poor Roumanian vampire babies?” Those poor unfortunates will at least get a song, exhorting people to adopt them, too. It might be a good Norwegian Black/Death Metal tune, because of the vampire theme, but I think it’ll be folk-rock instead—I hear that Southern Pigfish singer’s Dylan voice singing this. I guess Southern Pigfish will finally get their Soundclick page (I did promise I’d do that once I’d written them three songs)—maybe a MySpace page, too (I’ll need more photos for a good MySpace presence, though.)
So just a little good news. Besides getting the Harvest Festival gig, somebody I applied for a job with complimented me on my city-manager qualifications (of course, they haven’t hired me yet); somebody in the audience at the Friday Night Group complimented me on my singing (with my voice?); even had a minister say he liked my album (and that’s the one with “Bungee Jumpin’ Jesus” and “Can I Have Your Car When the Rapture Comes?”). That’s probably enough “uppers” at one time—if I were too unstressed, it’d affect my ability as a writer, and I wouldn’t want that.
Not a lot of feedback on the publishing co-operative idea, so maybe it’s not worth pursuing. What I should do instead is simply form my own publishing company, document the process well, and then just tell everybody, “Guys, you can do this, too.” WHO does it is unimportant. What’s important is that there be a way to get creativity to market apart from the stranglehold of the commerial music industry, and that people are aware of it so they can take advantage of it. The answer to the first question is “Yes, there is,” and the answer to the second is “I’m working on it.”
Joe
“Alice” the computer is already back in Garibaldi, as are the guitars and banjo; I’ll be away for a couple of days while I’m moving the remainder of the belongings. Some more jobs to apply for when I get back to Garibaldi. I haven’t decided whether the studio should stay in the garage, or go up on the second floor of the house, where the computer room is. Winter is coming on, and the garage is uninsulated.
The Harvest Festival gig will happen—SATURDAY, 11 OCTOBER, at NOON. I’ll finally get to send another gig notice out to the “joelist” (I wonder if they remember me?) and to the “friends” on MySpace. Setlist to work out—I’ll be playing solo, will have an hour (12 to 13 songs), and it’ll be a family crowd, with a lot of kids. The Harvest Festival is the biggest fundraiser of the year for the Neskowin Valley School, which is a little private school in way-south Tillamook County. This will be the third time I’ve performed there (and the first time in two years).
NEW MATERIAL: Did music for another Gospel song, this one by a Regina Michelle, whom I ran across on the Muse’s Muse writers’ site. The song is overtly religious, but was okay to work with—it comes across like one of the old Holy Roller “shouters,” and was a lot of fun to do. And she said she used to be a singer; maybe she can sing it if I send her just the music. At this point, she has a draft, with me singing, which she said she liked (and reportedly posted on her MySpace page).
And I have another song of mine I’m working on, too. Madonna’s announcement recently that she was adopting an African baby (because it was “trendy”) prompted the question, “But what about all the poor Roumanian vampire babies?” Those poor unfortunates will at least get a song, exhorting people to adopt them, too. It might be a good Norwegian Black/Death Metal tune, because of the vampire theme, but I think it’ll be folk-rock instead—I hear that Southern Pigfish singer’s Dylan voice singing this. I guess Southern Pigfish will finally get their Soundclick page (I did promise I’d do that once I’d written them three songs)—maybe a MySpace page, too (I’ll need more photos for a good MySpace presence, though.)
So just a little good news. Besides getting the Harvest Festival gig, somebody I applied for a job with complimented me on my city-manager qualifications (of course, they haven’t hired me yet); somebody in the audience at the Friday Night Group complimented me on my singing (with my voice?); even had a minister say he liked my album (and that’s the one with “Bungee Jumpin’ Jesus” and “Can I Have Your Car When the Rapture Comes?”). That’s probably enough “uppers” at one time—if I were too unstressed, it’d affect my ability as a writer, and I wouldn’t want that.
Not a lot of feedback on the publishing co-operative idea, so maybe it’s not worth pursuing. What I should do instead is simply form my own publishing company, document the process well, and then just tell everybody, “Guys, you can do this, too.” WHO does it is unimportant. What’s important is that there be a way to get creativity to market apart from the stranglehold of the commerial music industry, and that people are aware of it so they can take advantage of it. The answer to the first question is “Yes, there is,” and the answer to the second is “I’m working on it.”
Joe
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