This coming weekend is the North American Jew’s Harp Festival in Bay City, Oregon, just 5 miles from Garibaldi, and I’m going. It’s been three years. A chance to play music for most of two days straight, something I haven’t done in the three months since I left southern Oregon. There are resources, too, that come to that gathering (I remember there was one fellow three years ago who owned a recording studio), and one has to be mercenary about this.
At this point, it looks like I’m moving back to the Coast. The city-manager job in Falls City probably is not going to happen (they haven’t called me), and I’ll accordingly become a full-time college student in September. There are a couple of port-manager jobs over there I can apply for, too—one vacant now, the other this coming winter. So I’ll make my peace with it, set the recording studio back up in the garage (plastic flowers and all), and pursue music there.
A few more words about Southern Pigfish. Wrote ‘em a second song, this one more countrified but still in the Dylanesque obscurantist tradition. “Bedpans for Brains” is a lost-love song (that ought to be obvious from the title), with a Wizard of Oz theme; the theory was that if this were a music video, each of the Oz characters could do a verse, relating a long-ago lost love to his or her particular disability. It made for a nice structure to the song.
The Tin Man, of course, has lost his heart, the Lion his courage; the Scarecrow (who is missing his brain) talks of memories. And the poor Wicked Witch lost everything—her sister, the ruby slippers she was supposed to inherit, her kingdom, and ultimately her life. Dorothy just wants to get back to Kansas (but why does she want to do that?). “Bedpans for Brains” ended up with six verses and six choruses, and is a little long at 5-1/2 minutes—but it’s only 5 minutes without the Rap, and the Rap (which sets the stage) wouldn’t be necessary if it were a music video.
And it just might get to be a music video. Sharma says when she gets her studio set up behind her house this fall, she’ll have the technology to do it—and she knows how. We’ve been tentatively lining up a cast among people we know. I am not sure how we’re going to do the flying monkeys. We need them to be the band (“Hey, hey, we’re the Monkees!”)
I think I have to play Southern Pigfish straight from here on out; they’re starting to develop a life of their own, and I think I have to let them. I’ve decided once they get their next song, they’re getting their own “page” on Soundclick, and maybe a few other places—and at least one of the two songs I’m working on, either “Deep Water Blues” or “21 Steamer Drive” (the title for the latter was suggested by Len Amsterdam) will be a Southern Pigfish song.
Once Southern Pigfish has that album’s worth of songs, we’ll produce it and sell it—why not? The album cover’s done already. Southern Pigfish has even done a commercial—“professionally hokey,” I think one would call it—for Len Amsterdam’s radio show. The one thing the band can’t do is go on tour (it’s hard to do concerts when you don’t exist)—but other bands can cover their songs easily, and should. “This is a Southern Pigfish song written by Joe Wrabek.” It’ll work.
Joe
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Monday, July 28, 2008
INTERACTIVE VIDEO CONCERTS? AN IDEA....
Time for another idea, maybe.
Bands that go on tour are in trouble. Not the big-name acts, of course, but the so-called “baby bands” of musicians on the make, who scour the country in old Greyhound buses and open for the Big Acts (if they’re lucky) and play a lot of small towns (if they’re not). The price of fuel—more than double what it was this time last year—has eaten up all the profits (and then some) for a lot of them. Add in that concert attendance is down—nobody has any money—and the sales of CDs, T-shirts, bumperstickers, and all the other “merch” that’s the gravy of concerts are down, too.
So what’s a musician on the make to do? With access to the record companies virtually closed off by the companies themselves, the only way to make a name for one’s self has become to perform. With access to the record companies virtually closed off by the companies themselves, it’s also become virtually the only way an “indie” can sell records. You sell them to the people who attend the concerts.
I’m small potatoes in this musical garden, but I’ve been bit by it, too. One of the festivals that’s a staple of Concert Season—the “Moograss” Bluegrass Festival, where I’ve performed every year but one since 2001—won’t be held this year. Two others I’d planned on being at this year, the Wheeler County Bluegrass Festival in Fossil (OR) and the Grassroots Festival in Union (OR), I can’t go to because I can’t afford it. It’ll be difficult enough to make it to southern Oregon to perform Labor Day weekend.
A different paradigm for the performing “indie” seems to be in order. How about interactive video?
I assume it exists in other places, because it’s been around Oregon for over ten years, and Oregon tends to be a cultural backwater of sorts. I ran into it as a city manager in a remote corner of Oregon (actually, all corners of Oregon are remote). It was originally conceived as a way to disseminate seminars put on by various government agencies, because a lot of people couldn’t spend days traveling to Salem or Portland to attend a class—but you could put a couple dozen people in each of a couple dozen rooms around the state, and hook up two-way TV, so you could not only be lectured to, you could talk back.
Some of those “classrooms” were pretty fancy, depending on who built them; some had wall-sized flat-screen TVs and very sophisticated sound systems. And of course, the colleges were about the first to have them. I saw college classes being delivered that way a few years later.
Why couldn’t you deliver concerts that way? Most of the outfits that own these interactive-video “classrooms” are happy to rent them out for extra money, and the colleges are probably an ideal spot to broadcast from. It’s something that probably needs to be tried. From the band’s end, you potentially reach a larger audience and do it cheaper by doing it all at once; the concertgoer potentially gets a cheaper price; the “classroom” owner gets extra money, and gets their facilities used more. And collectively, we get to live with higher fuel prices and use technology to refuse to let our lifestyles be compromised.
Obviously, somebody has to start this. Could it be me? Doubtful, right now—but Eastern Oregon University, where I’ll start classes this fall, is (I’m pretty sure) one of those interactive video sites. As a student, I may be able to arrange something. In the meantime, if anybody’s reading, go do it if you have the opportunity. Ideas are not copyrightable, and it’s not necessary to wait on me.
UPDATES: Contract’s been signed with the publisher in The Philippines, and I’ve sent him the promotional photos he wanted for advertising. (I’ve been collecting concert photos for years.) Another song for Southern Pigfish, this one more countrified, with a Wizard of Oz motif—but still a lost-love song. (Southern Pigfish also did a commercial for Len Amsterdam’s radio program.) Programs to do for the Southern Oregon Songwriters Assn.’s summer concert series. And the Squirrel House to finish. (I haven’t seen the squirrel in a while. Maybe he realizes he’s been banned from the premises.)
Joe
Bands that go on tour are in trouble. Not the big-name acts, of course, but the so-called “baby bands” of musicians on the make, who scour the country in old Greyhound buses and open for the Big Acts (if they’re lucky) and play a lot of small towns (if they’re not). The price of fuel—more than double what it was this time last year—has eaten up all the profits (and then some) for a lot of them. Add in that concert attendance is down—nobody has any money—and the sales of CDs, T-shirts, bumperstickers, and all the other “merch” that’s the gravy of concerts are down, too.
So what’s a musician on the make to do? With access to the record companies virtually closed off by the companies themselves, the only way to make a name for one’s self has become to perform. With access to the record companies virtually closed off by the companies themselves, it’s also become virtually the only way an “indie” can sell records. You sell them to the people who attend the concerts.
I’m small potatoes in this musical garden, but I’ve been bit by it, too. One of the festivals that’s a staple of Concert Season—the “Moograss” Bluegrass Festival, where I’ve performed every year but one since 2001—won’t be held this year. Two others I’d planned on being at this year, the Wheeler County Bluegrass Festival in Fossil (OR) and the Grassroots Festival in Union (OR), I can’t go to because I can’t afford it. It’ll be difficult enough to make it to southern Oregon to perform Labor Day weekend.
A different paradigm for the performing “indie” seems to be in order. How about interactive video?
I assume it exists in other places, because it’s been around Oregon for over ten years, and Oregon tends to be a cultural backwater of sorts. I ran into it as a city manager in a remote corner of Oregon (actually, all corners of Oregon are remote). It was originally conceived as a way to disseminate seminars put on by various government agencies, because a lot of people couldn’t spend days traveling to Salem or Portland to attend a class—but you could put a couple dozen people in each of a couple dozen rooms around the state, and hook up two-way TV, so you could not only be lectured to, you could talk back.
Some of those “classrooms” were pretty fancy, depending on who built them; some had wall-sized flat-screen TVs and very sophisticated sound systems. And of course, the colleges were about the first to have them. I saw college classes being delivered that way a few years later.
Why couldn’t you deliver concerts that way? Most of the outfits that own these interactive-video “classrooms” are happy to rent them out for extra money, and the colleges are probably an ideal spot to broadcast from. It’s something that probably needs to be tried. From the band’s end, you potentially reach a larger audience and do it cheaper by doing it all at once; the concertgoer potentially gets a cheaper price; the “classroom” owner gets extra money, and gets their facilities used more. And collectively, we get to live with higher fuel prices and use technology to refuse to let our lifestyles be compromised.
Obviously, somebody has to start this. Could it be me? Doubtful, right now—but Eastern Oregon University, where I’ll start classes this fall, is (I’m pretty sure) one of those interactive video sites. As a student, I may be able to arrange something. In the meantime, if anybody’s reading, go do it if you have the opportunity. Ideas are not copyrightable, and it’s not necessary to wait on me.
UPDATES: Contract’s been signed with the publisher in The Philippines, and I’ve sent him the promotional photos he wanted for advertising. (I’ve been collecting concert photos for years.) Another song for Southern Pigfish, this one more countrified, with a Wizard of Oz motif—but still a lost-love song. (Southern Pigfish also did a commercial for Len Amsterdam’s radio program.) Programs to do for the Southern Oregon Songwriters Assn.’s summer concert series. And the Squirrel House to finish. (I haven’t seen the squirrel in a while. Maybe he realizes he’s been banned from the premises.)
Joe
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
A CONTRACT, A CONTEST, AND A CLASS (OH MY!)
UPDATES first, this time. I got the draft publishing contract, and I think it’s mostly okay. My money is net after production costs, which isn’t usually how it’s supposed to work in these things (normally, 100% of production costs comes out of the publisher’s side), but I think I’ll say okay, anyway, because I think I trust the fellow. (It helps to know the folks you’re dealing with.) If it were an unknown, I’d probably shy away from a deal like that, because it’s too easy to juggle the books to make sure there is no “net after production costs”; I’m a good enough bookkeeper myself to do that, and I don’t even have “CPA” after my name.
I did buy a book—THE MUSIC BUSINESS: Career Opportunities and Self-Defense (3rd edition, 2003) by Dick Weissman, so I could understand what people were talking about. Found it at a thrift store. Joins Getting Heard, my 1970s manual on how to promote yourself as a working band. (Found that one in a thrift store, too.) So Joe the Music Publisher’s library now has two technical manuals. We are on a roll, here.
THE CONTEST: Three entries, I think, for the Goodnight Kiss Music contest. I listened to the girl singer the publisher is soliciting songs for (had to invest in iTunes to do it), and she’s got a good torch-singer voice; she says she’s “country,” but I wouldn’t classify either of the songs I heard as “country”—maybe “pop-rock,” instead. (Then again, my idea of “country music” is Hank Williams and Bob Wills. I just have very antiquated tastes.) The publisher is looking for uptempo songs; one of the songs I heard wasn’t uptempo at all, and the other not very. And one was a love song, and one was a he-left-and-I-don’t-care song. So there, I think, are the parameters, near as I can tell.
What I’ve got to throw into the pot are two songs by Marge McKinnis and one of mine. The two Marge songs are ones I wrote music for, and I probably have to take credit for it here, since I’m the one on the publisher’s mailing list. “About Love” is one of those songs that moves fast without feeling it’s moving fast (I think of it as Buddy Holly with a bluegrass band), and “So Far” is a slow, sexy (rather than sleazy) blues. Both got professionally recorded at last year’s Pineyfest Demo Derby, and the session players assembled by Mike Dunbar did a tremendous job on both.
My entry is “Rotten Candy,” the song that was rejected by American Idol last year, and the production on that one needs some work. The only recording I’ve got was just done on the little Tascam, and includes just vocal and guitar (rhythm and the usual plinks pretending to be a lead). I was going to have Wayne re-record it for the new CD, but we haven’t done that yet. I have played this in public with a band, and it does rock—but it needs a bass to carry it (the bass line is very prominent). And based on the two tunes I heard, I think the publisher is going to want to hear some production. Deadline for submissions is 31 July.
GIVING AWAY CDS: I’m giving some more “Santa’s Fallen” CDs away (since I made back production costs a long time ago, how many I give away doesn’t matter); one’s going to a writer in England (he’s sending me one of his in trade), one’s for a muscular dystrophy-type fundraiser in Pennsylvania, and some more are for a raffle by Just Plain Folks (www.jpfolks.com), one of the writers’ sites I subscribe to—they’re trying to raise $3,500 for a new server. I’ve also let them raffle off my services as a composer, to write music for someone else’s lyrics. Every CD I give away is another person (maybe a bunch of people) listening to my stuff in a place I’ve never been to. Good exposure.
PUBLISHING CLASS? I was asked by a couple of people if I could do a seminar, or class, or something on how to get published (since it appears I am getting published). My first reaction was “Wait a minute—what do I know about getting published?” But that’s not the right answer. The right answer is “Sure.” Just like when I was asked to teach a class in songwriting at the “Moograss” Bluegrass Festival, if people think I’ve got something to contribute, I will do my best to contribute it. If nothing else, we will learn something together.
Joe
I did buy a book—THE MUSIC BUSINESS: Career Opportunities and Self-Defense (3rd edition, 2003) by Dick Weissman, so I could understand what people were talking about. Found it at a thrift store. Joins Getting Heard, my 1970s manual on how to promote yourself as a working band. (Found that one in a thrift store, too.) So Joe the Music Publisher’s library now has two technical manuals. We are on a roll, here.
THE CONTEST: Three entries, I think, for the Goodnight Kiss Music contest. I listened to the girl singer the publisher is soliciting songs for (had to invest in iTunes to do it), and she’s got a good torch-singer voice; she says she’s “country,” but I wouldn’t classify either of the songs I heard as “country”—maybe “pop-rock,” instead. (Then again, my idea of “country music” is Hank Williams and Bob Wills. I just have very antiquated tastes.) The publisher is looking for uptempo songs; one of the songs I heard wasn’t uptempo at all, and the other not very. And one was a love song, and one was a he-left-and-I-don’t-care song. So there, I think, are the parameters, near as I can tell.
What I’ve got to throw into the pot are two songs by Marge McKinnis and one of mine. The two Marge songs are ones I wrote music for, and I probably have to take credit for it here, since I’m the one on the publisher’s mailing list. “About Love” is one of those songs that moves fast without feeling it’s moving fast (I think of it as Buddy Holly with a bluegrass band), and “So Far” is a slow, sexy (rather than sleazy) blues. Both got professionally recorded at last year’s Pineyfest Demo Derby, and the session players assembled by Mike Dunbar did a tremendous job on both.
My entry is “Rotten Candy,” the song that was rejected by American Idol last year, and the production on that one needs some work. The only recording I’ve got was just done on the little Tascam, and includes just vocal and guitar (rhythm and the usual plinks pretending to be a lead). I was going to have Wayne re-record it for the new CD, but we haven’t done that yet. I have played this in public with a band, and it does rock—but it needs a bass to carry it (the bass line is very prominent). And based on the two tunes I heard, I think the publisher is going to want to hear some production. Deadline for submissions is 31 July.
GIVING AWAY CDS: I’m giving some more “Santa’s Fallen” CDs away (since I made back production costs a long time ago, how many I give away doesn’t matter); one’s going to a writer in England (he’s sending me one of his in trade), one’s for a muscular dystrophy-type fundraiser in Pennsylvania, and some more are for a raffle by Just Plain Folks (www.jpfolks.com), one of the writers’ sites I subscribe to—they’re trying to raise $3,500 for a new server. I’ve also let them raffle off my services as a composer, to write music for someone else’s lyrics. Every CD I give away is another person (maybe a bunch of people) listening to my stuff in a place I’ve never been to. Good exposure.
PUBLISHING CLASS? I was asked by a couple of people if I could do a seminar, or class, or something on how to get published (since it appears I am getting published). My first reaction was “Wait a minute—what do I know about getting published?” But that’s not the right answer. The right answer is “Sure.” Just like when I was asked to teach a class in songwriting at the “Moograss” Bluegrass Festival, if people think I’ve got something to contribute, I will do my best to contribute it. If nothing else, we will learn something together.
Joe
Monday, July 21, 2008
SOUTHERN PIGFISH...
It happens regularly—I go away for a couple of days, leaving the blog unfinished, and when I come back, I find myself wanting to write about something different.
The latest project is SOUTHERN PIGFISH. Another challenge, this one from a different writers’ site; the task was to create an album cover from three random elements—a randomly-selected photograph (which would be the background), a randomly-selected article title from Wikipedia (which would be the name of the band), and four randomly-selected words from a quotation on a quotations Website. Appealed to the graphic designer in me—I don’t get to do near enough of this work.
So I ended up with a “band” named Southern Pigfish, and an album entitled “For Their Own Ends,” and a photo of an exotically beautiful girl. And a nice album cover, too. The album cover, by the way, is at: http://imgcash6.imageshack.us/img183/2096/pigfishcover71608yg0.jpg
And then, somebody suggested writing the song that would be the title cut of the album. This is where it got to be real fun. I decided to “go Dylan”; a lot of his songs from the folk-rock era had titles that had nothing to do with the song, and that’d give me the freedom to write whatever I wanted and get away with it. I’d been wanting to try my hand at obscurantist lyrics, anyway—I’ve been attracted for a long time to the very strange imagery that pervades Scott Garriott’s folksongs, and wanted to see if I could do the same sort of thing. A lot of Dylan’s songs were political, too, and we have an election going on in the U.S., and a rotten economy, and a foreign war—plenty to talk about.
So there was the “persona” for Southern Pigfish. A folk-rock band doing political commentary cloaked in Dylanesque obscurantism (the obscurantism probably necessary because they’re a Southern band (“Southern Pigfish.” Duh), and political commentary would be frowned upon). Give it a good beat, though, and the band will be popular no matter what they’re saying, because you can dance to it. A long drive to see the fambly over the weekend, and some lawn-mowing, and I pretty much had the lyrics.
So how do you record a folk-rock band when you have to do all the parts, and have only four tracks to work with on the Tascam? I did the rhythm guitar, bass (also on the acoustic guitar) and applause tracks (I decided this had to be a “live performance,” to offset any flubs in the music) on 4 tracks, mixed it down, and played it through the CD burner onto two tracks of the Tascam, then added the vocal and lead guitar (also done on the acoustic). And it pretty much worked. The bass is a little loud, but it had to be—if it were softer, I started to lose some of the notes—and it covers up the fact that the lead guitar isn’t doing much (because I can’t do much, really). I had my canned audience applaud the lead guitar break, anyway, because it felt good.
So now we have a song, and it’s recorded. What do we do with it? Not only is the music a little strange (and not my usual style), the band itself does not exist, and never has. Sure, I can share this around on the Internet, but can’t we do more?
Maybe. I know a radio station deejay in Ashland who does a weekly show on politics, and she used one of my songs (“No Good Songs About the War”) in one of her shows, and now she’s looking for more. “For Their Own Ends” is a potential candidate. I also know a band in Southern Oregon that does a lot of Dylanesque material; I’ll send it to them. (Even Screamin’ Gulch, the punk-rock band I used to play with in Medford, might like this one, because of the beat.)
And it’s not necessary to mention that Southern Pigfish is a complete fabrication—in fact, it might be fun not to. I can introduce the song, when I perform it (with a band, of course—I don’t think this one can be done without a band), simply as “This is the song I wrote for Southern Pigfish, for their new album,” and leave it at that. The album cover looks quite professional (of course—it was designed by a professional: me). It would be fascinating to build up a “buzz” for a band that doesn’t exist, and see what happens. Yes, some folks would have to be let in on the secret—but maybe not many.
Which begs the question “Will there be more Southern Pigfish songs?” I guess there’d have to be, wouldn’t there? I’ll see what I can do…
Joe
The latest project is SOUTHERN PIGFISH. Another challenge, this one from a different writers’ site; the task was to create an album cover from three random elements—a randomly-selected photograph (which would be the background), a randomly-selected article title from Wikipedia (which would be the name of the band), and four randomly-selected words from a quotation on a quotations Website. Appealed to the graphic designer in me—I don’t get to do near enough of this work.
So I ended up with a “band” named Southern Pigfish, and an album entitled “For Their Own Ends,” and a photo of an exotically beautiful girl. And a nice album cover, too. The album cover, by the way, is at: http://imgcash6.imageshack.us/img183/2096/pigfishcover71608yg0.jpg
And then, somebody suggested writing the song that would be the title cut of the album. This is where it got to be real fun. I decided to “go Dylan”; a lot of his songs from the folk-rock era had titles that had nothing to do with the song, and that’d give me the freedom to write whatever I wanted and get away with it. I’d been wanting to try my hand at obscurantist lyrics, anyway—I’ve been attracted for a long time to the very strange imagery that pervades Scott Garriott’s folksongs, and wanted to see if I could do the same sort of thing. A lot of Dylan’s songs were political, too, and we have an election going on in the U.S., and a rotten economy, and a foreign war—plenty to talk about.
So there was the “persona” for Southern Pigfish. A folk-rock band doing political commentary cloaked in Dylanesque obscurantism (the obscurantism probably necessary because they’re a Southern band (“Southern Pigfish.” Duh), and political commentary would be frowned upon). Give it a good beat, though, and the band will be popular no matter what they’re saying, because you can dance to it. A long drive to see the fambly over the weekend, and some lawn-mowing, and I pretty much had the lyrics.
So how do you record a folk-rock band when you have to do all the parts, and have only four tracks to work with on the Tascam? I did the rhythm guitar, bass (also on the acoustic guitar) and applause tracks (I decided this had to be a “live performance,” to offset any flubs in the music) on 4 tracks, mixed it down, and played it through the CD burner onto two tracks of the Tascam, then added the vocal and lead guitar (also done on the acoustic). And it pretty much worked. The bass is a little loud, but it had to be—if it were softer, I started to lose some of the notes—and it covers up the fact that the lead guitar isn’t doing much (because I can’t do much, really). I had my canned audience applaud the lead guitar break, anyway, because it felt good.
So now we have a song, and it’s recorded. What do we do with it? Not only is the music a little strange (and not my usual style), the band itself does not exist, and never has. Sure, I can share this around on the Internet, but can’t we do more?
Maybe. I know a radio station deejay in Ashland who does a weekly show on politics, and she used one of my songs (“No Good Songs About the War”) in one of her shows, and now she’s looking for more. “For Their Own Ends” is a potential candidate. I also know a band in Southern Oregon that does a lot of Dylanesque material; I’ll send it to them. (Even Screamin’ Gulch, the punk-rock band I used to play with in Medford, might like this one, because of the beat.)
And it’s not necessary to mention that Southern Pigfish is a complete fabrication—in fact, it might be fun not to. I can introduce the song, when I perform it (with a band, of course—I don’t think this one can be done without a band), simply as “This is the song I wrote for Southern Pigfish, for their new album,” and leave it at that. The album cover looks quite professional (of course—it was designed by a professional: me). It would be fascinating to build up a “buzz” for a band that doesn’t exist, and see what happens. Yes, some folks would have to be let in on the secret—but maybe not many.
Which begs the question “Will there be more Southern Pigfish songs?” I guess there’d have to be, wouldn’t there? I’ll see what I can do…
Joe
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
A PUBLISHING CONTRACT?
Just a small bright spot in the general poverty/unemployment/Squirrel House/not going anywhere or seeing anybody routine. I’m getting a publishing contract for one of my songs—from the Philippines. They want “Santa’s Fallen and He Can’t Get Up” for a Christmas album. I’ll need to have the contract vetted by an entertainment attorney. Oh, what fun. Yes, I think the fellow’s legitimate—he writes songs (subscribes to one of the writers’ sites I do), and has a real job as well as having fingers in stuff like this, and I know a couple of other people who’ve been offered single-song contracts by his company.
The album will get circulation only in the Philippines—but like the fellow said, “80 million people leaving the Philippines.” (I’m sure he meant “live in,” but I haven’t corrected him. Besides, can’t you just imagine the flotilla of boats?) My first-ever foreign sales (heck, my first-ever commercial sales of any kind.) I am sure we’re not talking about a big run, and it won’t amount to a lot of money—but it sure is a neat thing to add to the resume and put on the “Joe is Great!” brochure.
THE “INNERVIEW” of Country Rose by Danny the dog has gotten a lot of attention; it’s the second most listened to of all of my tracks on Whitby Shores, and it’s only been up for a few days. And folks have been asking for more. It’s been suggested that whom Danny should “innerview” next is Len Amsterdam, deejay, veejay, and independent music promoter extraordinaire, and founder of Whitby Shores. That’d be good—Danny knows Len (and Danny needs to interview people he knows), and we could potentially get a lot of good discussion about the promotion of independent artists and writers, since Len’s been on the cutting edge of most of it for serveral years. (He’s been called “the Alan Freed of the Internet.”)
The Danny “innerviews” could become a series, I suppose, and that could be good. Mix hard information with canine cuteness and a good dollop of humor, and it might be something people will listen to. It’s like the songs in that regard: the tongue-in-cheekness sucks you in, and you end up absorbing hard information without thinking about it. If it were just the hard information, you probably wouldn’t give it the time of day to begin with.
A RAP? Yeah, I wrote a rap (I refuse to call it a “rap song”—as far as I’m concerned, “rap music” is a contradiction in terms). It was for another of those challenges—four of my last five songs have resulted from on-line challenges—this one calling for songs about “why?” Y is, among other things, a letter of the alphabet, and I couldn’t help envisioning how a rapper would do the alphabet. I ended up having to endure rap blaring from car windows in traffic for a whole day, as I drove to and from registering my daughter for college—so by the time I got back home, I had “Alphabet Without U” by “JaY-DuByA da Rappah.” (Lost love, again. What is with this fixation on lost love?)
People liked it, and I guess that’s good; I’m not going to make a career out of rap, and I was happy just to get it out of my system. I can’t record it—don’t have the technology to produce those “bump-bumps” and “scritch-scritches” that seem to be essential for that genre. I have thought about showing up at one of the Rogue Valley Poetry Slams (a “poetry slam” is apparently a gathering of poets where they drink a lot and listen to each other’s stuff, for prizes), asking everybody to just imagine the bump-bumps and scritch-scritches, and do my JaY-DuByA routine. And then I can be done with it.
UPDATES: I’m not sure I’ve accomplished anything at all. I will get to play with the Friday Night Group this weekend, and maybe we can talk about the potential benefit album. Still trying to line up more gigs in southern Oregon over Labor Day weekend, and maybe an opportunity to finish recording the album. And a place to stay. Bank account got down (briefly) to ten bucks—not a good place to be.
Joe
The album will get circulation only in the Philippines—but like the fellow said, “80 million people leaving the Philippines.” (I’m sure he meant “live in,” but I haven’t corrected him. Besides, can’t you just imagine the flotilla of boats?) My first-ever foreign sales (heck, my first-ever commercial sales of any kind.) I am sure we’re not talking about a big run, and it won’t amount to a lot of money—but it sure is a neat thing to add to the resume and put on the “Joe is Great!” brochure.
THE “INNERVIEW” of Country Rose by Danny the dog has gotten a lot of attention; it’s the second most listened to of all of my tracks on Whitby Shores, and it’s only been up for a few days. And folks have been asking for more. It’s been suggested that whom Danny should “innerview” next is Len Amsterdam, deejay, veejay, and independent music promoter extraordinaire, and founder of Whitby Shores. That’d be good—Danny knows Len (and Danny needs to interview people he knows), and we could potentially get a lot of good discussion about the promotion of independent artists and writers, since Len’s been on the cutting edge of most of it for serveral years. (He’s been called “the Alan Freed of the Internet.”)
The Danny “innerviews” could become a series, I suppose, and that could be good. Mix hard information with canine cuteness and a good dollop of humor, and it might be something people will listen to. It’s like the songs in that regard: the tongue-in-cheekness sucks you in, and you end up absorbing hard information without thinking about it. If it were just the hard information, you probably wouldn’t give it the time of day to begin with.
A RAP? Yeah, I wrote a rap (I refuse to call it a “rap song”—as far as I’m concerned, “rap music” is a contradiction in terms). It was for another of those challenges—four of my last five songs have resulted from on-line challenges—this one calling for songs about “why?” Y is, among other things, a letter of the alphabet, and I couldn’t help envisioning how a rapper would do the alphabet. I ended up having to endure rap blaring from car windows in traffic for a whole day, as I drove to and from registering my daughter for college—so by the time I got back home, I had “Alphabet Without U” by “JaY-DuByA da Rappah.” (Lost love, again. What is with this fixation on lost love?)
People liked it, and I guess that’s good; I’m not going to make a career out of rap, and I was happy just to get it out of my system. I can’t record it—don’t have the technology to produce those “bump-bumps” and “scritch-scritches” that seem to be essential for that genre. I have thought about showing up at one of the Rogue Valley Poetry Slams (a “poetry slam” is apparently a gathering of poets where they drink a lot and listen to each other’s stuff, for prizes), asking everybody to just imagine the bump-bumps and scritch-scritches, and do my JaY-DuByA routine. And then I can be done with it.
UPDATES: I’m not sure I’ve accomplished anything at all. I will get to play with the Friday Night Group this weekend, and maybe we can talk about the potential benefit album. Still trying to line up more gigs in southern Oregon over Labor Day weekend, and maybe an opportunity to finish recording the album. And a place to stay. Bank account got down (briefly) to ten bucks—not a good place to be.
Joe
Friday, July 11, 2008
"WHEN I JUMP OFF THE CLIFF..."
The more I think of it, the more “When I Jump Off the Cliff I’ll Think of You” strikes me as a good entry in the National Australian Bank contest. It is aspirational and upbeat, like they said they wanted (though it’s aspirational in a rather weird way). I’d heard the bank was interested in the winner as a theme song for the bank (their contest information doesn’t say so, however), but this song would work for that, too--from an advertising man’s standpoint, you could nail the competition with it.
Of course, the bank would have to have a sense of humor (one would hope that people who live in the same country as kangaroos would develop a sense of humor). I practiced my advertising trade in a rural area, working for a country newspaper, and country folk are fond of self-deprecating humor; some of my ads got entered in national contests (though they never won). I don’t know if National Australian Bank have got too urban (or urbane) to take advantage of it.
At least, it doesn’t cost a dime (Australian or U.S.) to enter the contest. One is out just the cost of manufacturing the CDs and the few bucks in postage to send them halfway around the planet. My kind of contest. Of course, if I did win, I’d have to get to Australia somehow to record the song with a real band in a real studio. If that kind of opportunity happened, I just might be able to manage it. We would have “Help Joe Get to Australia” CD sales like you would not believe.
Which version of the song to send? There are two—the one I recorded on the Tascam, with me playing lead and rhythm guitar, that got sent to American Idol, and the one Wayne is recording for The New CD. The latter should be technically a lot better, but I haven’t heard it yet. (Another reason to call Wayne.)
This does beg the question why I would be interested in going to Australia on my own nickel basically to record a song for National Australian Bank (to which they would own all rights) and not be interested in going to North Carolina on my own nickel to perform a song at the Hank Williams Festival (to which I’d retain all rights)? Well, one good (but unexpected) reason is there isn’t a Hank Williams Songwriting Contest any more—hasn’t been since 2006. I’m too late—should have entered “Hank’s Song” back when I had a chance. Some of these things are very ephemeral--something to keep in mind for the future.
There will still be a Woody Guthrie Festival, apparently—the Oklahoma Songwriters & Composers Assn. is working on plans for the 2009 festival (and contest), and maybe it’s something I should save up the time and money for. (They’ll get “Free-Range Person,” my song about the advantages of being homeless.) If I don’t win, I don’t have to go (early July in Oklahoma, I think, is probably not a pleasant experience).
Why contests? It’s attention-getting, mostly—an opportunity to reach a wider audience in a different place. It’s like I’ve honed my material at local gigs, and showcases, and open mikes, and am going to take the best of it (or some of the best) on the road, and see how it stacks up against the Big Boys (or at least Bigger Boys). That’s one reason I like to do contests where “entering” includes or consists of performing live, rather than sending a CD somewhere that may at best get heard by a handful of people. So I’ve done the Wheeler County (OR) Bluegrass Festival, and county fairs in Tillamook and La Grande, and the Oregon State Fair, and played at Pineyfest in Nashville with at least one music bigwig in the audience.
One thing I haven’t done with any of these contests is follow-through. I have played, and I’ve won some, and have gone away, leaving people (hopefully) wondering “Who was that masked man?” Bad move. They should know who I am, and how to reach me, and know that I’ll be back before they have a chance to forget (because given a chance, they will forget—people do). I should experiment with a small one (the Portland Songwriters Assn. has one with a 12/31 deadline) and see what I can pull off.
UPDATES: The “innerview” of Country Rose by Danny the dog is done. It is over 20 minutes long, but I hope it’s entertaining. Danny asked some pointed questions (in Danny fashion, of course) about the future of the music business in these Internet-ridden times, and where unsigned writers and musicians “on the make” fit in—so hopefully, it’s useful as well as entertaining, and maybe we’ll get to do more. Like Danny says, “One small pawprint for dogs…”
Joe
Of course, the bank would have to have a sense of humor (one would hope that people who live in the same country as kangaroos would develop a sense of humor). I practiced my advertising trade in a rural area, working for a country newspaper, and country folk are fond of self-deprecating humor; some of my ads got entered in national contests (though they never won). I don’t know if National Australian Bank have got too urban (or urbane) to take advantage of it.
At least, it doesn’t cost a dime (Australian or U.S.) to enter the contest. One is out just the cost of manufacturing the CDs and the few bucks in postage to send them halfway around the planet. My kind of contest. Of course, if I did win, I’d have to get to Australia somehow to record the song with a real band in a real studio. If that kind of opportunity happened, I just might be able to manage it. We would have “Help Joe Get to Australia” CD sales like you would not believe.
Which version of the song to send? There are two—the one I recorded on the Tascam, with me playing lead and rhythm guitar, that got sent to American Idol, and the one Wayne is recording for The New CD. The latter should be technically a lot better, but I haven’t heard it yet. (Another reason to call Wayne.)
This does beg the question why I would be interested in going to Australia on my own nickel basically to record a song for National Australian Bank (to which they would own all rights) and not be interested in going to North Carolina on my own nickel to perform a song at the Hank Williams Festival (to which I’d retain all rights)? Well, one good (but unexpected) reason is there isn’t a Hank Williams Songwriting Contest any more—hasn’t been since 2006. I’m too late—should have entered “Hank’s Song” back when I had a chance. Some of these things are very ephemeral--something to keep in mind for the future.
There will still be a Woody Guthrie Festival, apparently—the Oklahoma Songwriters & Composers Assn. is working on plans for the 2009 festival (and contest), and maybe it’s something I should save up the time and money for. (They’ll get “Free-Range Person,” my song about the advantages of being homeless.) If I don’t win, I don’t have to go (early July in Oklahoma, I think, is probably not a pleasant experience).
Why contests? It’s attention-getting, mostly—an opportunity to reach a wider audience in a different place. It’s like I’ve honed my material at local gigs, and showcases, and open mikes, and am going to take the best of it (or some of the best) on the road, and see how it stacks up against the Big Boys (or at least Bigger Boys). That’s one reason I like to do contests where “entering” includes or consists of performing live, rather than sending a CD somewhere that may at best get heard by a handful of people. So I’ve done the Wheeler County (OR) Bluegrass Festival, and county fairs in Tillamook and La Grande, and the Oregon State Fair, and played at Pineyfest in Nashville with at least one music bigwig in the audience.
One thing I haven’t done with any of these contests is follow-through. I have played, and I’ve won some, and have gone away, leaving people (hopefully) wondering “Who was that masked man?” Bad move. They should know who I am, and how to reach me, and know that I’ll be back before they have a chance to forget (because given a chance, they will forget—people do). I should experiment with a small one (the Portland Songwriters Assn. has one with a 12/31 deadline) and see what I can pull off.
UPDATES: The “innerview” of Country Rose by Danny the dog is done. It is over 20 minutes long, but I hope it’s entertaining. Danny asked some pointed questions (in Danny fashion, of course) about the future of the music business in these Internet-ridden times, and where unsigned writers and musicians “on the make” fit in—so hopefully, it’s useful as well as entertaining, and maybe we’ll get to do more. Like Danny says, “One small pawprint for dogs…”
Joe
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
NEEDS AND UPDATES...
I’m registered for school fall term (I have one class to take over the summer, that I can do at the local community college), have another city-manager job to apply for, still have no money, and have some more work to do on the Squirrel House before it’s rentable. We paint today, I think.
When you don’t have money, you entertain yourself with lists of what you’d do if you had money. Here’s mine. NEEDS first—all of them major expenses, I think:
Registration as publisher and writer (BMI).
Copyright all songs on the new CD (11 of mine, plus 2 co-writes).
Registration with Harry Fox Agency for mechanical licenses.
Trip to southern Oregon for the 8/30 Central Point concert.
Trip to Nashville for Pineyfest next year.
These are all things I have to do. The publisher/writer registration and copyrighting are prerequisites to getting the new CD out; registering with Harry Fox is necessary for the Friday Night Group album; and I’ve committed to the Central Point concert. I consider Pineyfest 2009 a “need,” since I have to save up about $2,000 to make the trip.
I have “WANTS,” too—a battery pack for the video camera, a tripod for the camera (I saw one in a thrift store, but didn’t buy it), extra RAM for “Alice” the computer to do music and better graphics with, and a print-on-CDs printer, for starters. Those will wait on a better income.
UPDATES:
Got my girl singer (maybe)—and I’ve got something to try her out on. I want to send “Rotten Candy” to Goodnight Kiss Music’s contest (winner gets their song on an album with a professional singer). I wanted to find “her” key—but maybe that doesn’t matter so much to somebody with a voice range of more than one octave. That’ll take care of my “I want to enter another contest” problem for the year, too.
There are two Marge McKinnis songs that are potential entrants for the contest, too—and I do have them in sans-vocal form, courtesy of last year’s Pineyfest Demo Derby. I could substitute the female vocal for mine and submit those, too, if Marge is okay with it.
I did run across another fun contest—the National Australian Bank is having a contest for “aspirational” songs, reportedly to use as a theme song for the bank (and you don’t have to be Australian to enter). Thought about sending them “When I Jump Off the Cliff I’ll Think of You,” but the second line (“And all the things you put me through”) probably doesn’t send the right image for a bank that’s looking for business. It’ll have to be something else—maybe something custom-written for the occasion.
I scripted out the “innerview” of Country Rose by Danny the dog, and have Rose’s answers recorded; now it’s time to do Danny’s questions. Time to break out the CD burner. I haven’t done enough for Whitby Shores lately.
The Labor Day weekend trip to southern Oregon right now includes only the Saturday concert in Central Point. It would be fun (and good) to line up other opportunities to play while I’m down there. The Ashland Beanery is open that Friday night, and there’s both a poetry open mike and the famous open mike at the Wild Goose Sunday night. Could I do more on the album while I’m there? I’ll have to contact Wayne. Johnny B.’s is a possibility, too. As an out-of-town “star,” I could maybe get more attention.
Joe
When you don’t have money, you entertain yourself with lists of what you’d do if you had money. Here’s mine. NEEDS first—all of them major expenses, I think:
Registration as publisher and writer (BMI).
Copyright all songs on the new CD (11 of mine, plus 2 co-writes).
Registration with Harry Fox Agency for mechanical licenses.
Trip to southern Oregon for the 8/30 Central Point concert.
Trip to Nashville for Pineyfest next year.
These are all things I have to do. The publisher/writer registration and copyrighting are prerequisites to getting the new CD out; registering with Harry Fox is necessary for the Friday Night Group album; and I’ve committed to the Central Point concert. I consider Pineyfest 2009 a “need,” since I have to save up about $2,000 to make the trip.
I have “WANTS,” too—a battery pack for the video camera, a tripod for the camera (I saw one in a thrift store, but didn’t buy it), extra RAM for “Alice” the computer to do music and better graphics with, and a print-on-CDs printer, for starters. Those will wait on a better income.
UPDATES:
Got my girl singer (maybe)—and I’ve got something to try her out on. I want to send “Rotten Candy” to Goodnight Kiss Music’s contest (winner gets their song on an album with a professional singer). I wanted to find “her” key—but maybe that doesn’t matter so much to somebody with a voice range of more than one octave. That’ll take care of my “I want to enter another contest” problem for the year, too.
There are two Marge McKinnis songs that are potential entrants for the contest, too—and I do have them in sans-vocal form, courtesy of last year’s Pineyfest Demo Derby. I could substitute the female vocal for mine and submit those, too, if Marge is okay with it.
I did run across another fun contest—the National Australian Bank is having a contest for “aspirational” songs, reportedly to use as a theme song for the bank (and you don’t have to be Australian to enter). Thought about sending them “When I Jump Off the Cliff I’ll Think of You,” but the second line (“And all the things you put me through”) probably doesn’t send the right image for a bank that’s looking for business. It’ll have to be something else—maybe something custom-written for the occasion.
I scripted out the “innerview” of Country Rose by Danny the dog, and have Rose’s answers recorded; now it’s time to do Danny’s questions. Time to break out the CD burner. I haven’t done enough for Whitby Shores lately.
The Labor Day weekend trip to southern Oregon right now includes only the Saturday concert in Central Point. It would be fun (and good) to line up other opportunities to play while I’m down there. The Ashland Beanery is open that Friday night, and there’s both a poetry open mike and the famous open mike at the Wild Goose Sunday night. Could I do more on the album while I’m there? I’ll have to contact Wayne. Johnny B.’s is a possibility, too. As an out-of-town “star,” I could maybe get more attention.
Joe
Sunday, July 6, 2008
A "SUMMER VACATION" IDEA...
Got to play with the Friday Night Group Friday night (even though it was the 4th of July, they still got together to play—and an audience still came to hear, and dance). They were trying for mostly patriotic songs, but the closest I could come was “Twenty Saddles for My Chicken,” since it does mention Independence Day (red, white and blue chicken saddles, of course).
Neither of the jobs in the Gorge are going to happen. Accordingly, as soon as the Squirrel House is fixed back up, it’ll get rented, and I’ll be moving back to Garibaldi—probably to be a college student come fall. Once unemployment runs out, I’ll get a “You want fries with that?” job to keep the tuition and mortgage paid, and the van full of gas (which now costs almost FIVE BUCKS a gallon). I’ve the summer to arrange financing for college—and do something with music.
Pursuing music on the Oregon Coast isn’t a whole lot different from doing it anywhere else. The list of resources is a little different; some things are better, and others worse. There is no writers’ or musicians’ organization of any kind that I know of; on the other hand, I know a fair number of the local musicians, and there is the Friday Night Group to play with for sure. Not many venues have live music—but I know a couple that do.
There is a potential project I can pursue when I get back. It won’t generate a dime (for me), but it could get a lot of attention. (Sometimes, the best thing you can do for yourself is to do something for somebody else.) I’d tossed the idea around the last time I was in town for an extended period of time—but then I got a job out of town and the idea went on the back burner.
The idea? Record an album of the Friday Night Group. “In concert”—with that many musicians, it’d have to be done live—but I think I know a sound engineer in the area who can do it. The group collectively has the money to do it; Pat (our “keeper”) had recommended that be how the group spend the money it’s going to make this year, since the sound system is pretty much complete. And then sell CDs as a benefit to the Neah-Kah-Nie High School music program. (I know how poor they are, because my daughter was in the school band. They couldn’t even afford new sheet music.) The Friday Night Group is popular, and the Cause would be, too. And probably $7 out of every $10 CD would be “profit” that could be donated to the school.
And release the album, if possible, Labor Day Weekend. “Moograss”—a seven-year tradition—was a huge fund-raiser for the Tillamook High School music program, in which everybody donated everyting, including the musicians, who all played for free. But there won’t be any “Moograss” Bluegrass Festival this Labor Day weekend, and that’s an opportunity for US to jump in and ask people to donate to another music program instead. Instead of a CD release party, have a concert (on that Friday night, of course) at which the CDs would first be available, before showing up in local stores (most local stores would carry them, I’m sure).
First step is to ask the group if they’re interested. Second, I’d want them to pick out 11-16 songs—one that each person who sings can sing, and that the rest of the group knows and can play along with. Third, we bring the sound engineer in for a Friday evening, and have him listen to us play the songs, and him decide how he wants to set things up. Fourth, he records, mixes, masters, and we get copies pressed.
Where do I fit in? I put my music publisher’s hat on and dig up the copyright information on each of the songs; a lot of the musicians are going to want to do covers, and we’ll simply pay copyright fees as necessary. My consulting firm, Outside Services Ltd., will register with the Harry Fox Agency and arrange for payment of the mechanical licenses. And I’ll do the artwork for the album cover and liner notes—and the posters and advertising—all of which’ll be tons of fun.
How I Spent My Summer Vacation…
Joe
Neither of the jobs in the Gorge are going to happen. Accordingly, as soon as the Squirrel House is fixed back up, it’ll get rented, and I’ll be moving back to Garibaldi—probably to be a college student come fall. Once unemployment runs out, I’ll get a “You want fries with that?” job to keep the tuition and mortgage paid, and the van full of gas (which now costs almost FIVE BUCKS a gallon). I’ve the summer to arrange financing for college—and do something with music.
Pursuing music on the Oregon Coast isn’t a whole lot different from doing it anywhere else. The list of resources is a little different; some things are better, and others worse. There is no writers’ or musicians’ organization of any kind that I know of; on the other hand, I know a fair number of the local musicians, and there is the Friday Night Group to play with for sure. Not many venues have live music—but I know a couple that do.
There is a potential project I can pursue when I get back. It won’t generate a dime (for me), but it could get a lot of attention. (Sometimes, the best thing you can do for yourself is to do something for somebody else.) I’d tossed the idea around the last time I was in town for an extended period of time—but then I got a job out of town and the idea went on the back burner.
The idea? Record an album of the Friday Night Group. “In concert”—with that many musicians, it’d have to be done live—but I think I know a sound engineer in the area who can do it. The group collectively has the money to do it; Pat (our “keeper”) had recommended that be how the group spend the money it’s going to make this year, since the sound system is pretty much complete. And then sell CDs as a benefit to the Neah-Kah-Nie High School music program. (I know how poor they are, because my daughter was in the school band. They couldn’t even afford new sheet music.) The Friday Night Group is popular, and the Cause would be, too. And probably $7 out of every $10 CD would be “profit” that could be donated to the school.
And release the album, if possible, Labor Day Weekend. “Moograss”—a seven-year tradition—was a huge fund-raiser for the Tillamook High School music program, in which everybody donated everyting, including the musicians, who all played for free. But there won’t be any “Moograss” Bluegrass Festival this Labor Day weekend, and that’s an opportunity for US to jump in and ask people to donate to another music program instead. Instead of a CD release party, have a concert (on that Friday night, of course) at which the CDs would first be available, before showing up in local stores (most local stores would carry them, I’m sure).
First step is to ask the group if they’re interested. Second, I’d want them to pick out 11-16 songs—one that each person who sings can sing, and that the rest of the group knows and can play along with. Third, we bring the sound engineer in for a Friday evening, and have him listen to us play the songs, and him decide how he wants to set things up. Fourth, he records, mixes, masters, and we get copies pressed.
Where do I fit in? I put my music publisher’s hat on and dig up the copyright information on each of the songs; a lot of the musicians are going to want to do covers, and we’ll simply pay copyright fees as necessary. My consulting firm, Outside Services Ltd., will register with the Harry Fox Agency and arrange for payment of the mechanical licenses. And I’ll do the artwork for the album cover and liner notes—and the posters and advertising—all of which’ll be tons of fun.
How I Spent My Summer Vacation…
Joe
Thursday, July 3, 2008
ALMOST INDEPENDENCE DAY...
While July 4 is the “generally accepted” day, it was actually some 13 months earlier that the burgesses in an obscure county in North Carolina voted to declare their independence from Great Britain, using a lot of the same language and phrases that ended up in the Declaration of Independence. July 4, 1776 is really an arbitrary anniversary people generally agreed on. We had to pick something.
I haven’t declared my independence yet—I’m still going through the same sort of agonizing about the future the Founding Fathers did. I’ve said before I really do not know what I want to do with my life, and I still don’t. I’ve been in a holding pattern these past 8 weeks, camping out in the Cascade Locks house, fixing squirrel damage while I wonder what to do.
So here are the options. I think there are still only three of them.
ONE is I get another job—probably another city-manager job, in another town, and do what I’ve been doing the last 15 years. Realistically, that could be a little hard: nearly everybody wants a college degree in city management these days, and I don’t have one (I’m a computer programmer). The economy’s tough, and jobs of any kind are hard to come by. The minimal dribble of unemployment insurance runs out the end of September.
TWO is I become a college student again—something I haven’t done for 37 years. I meet with the student advisor from Eastern Oregon University Monday—they’re the only college in Oregon that offers a bachelor’s in city management. I had to declare a minor, and that—obviously—will be music. I do not know yet where the money to pay for it—and to live while I’m studenting—will come from. I can work while I’m studenting, of course, but I have to have a job to do that.
THREE—the scariest but also the most attractive—is I pack everything in, cash in my retirement, and plan on making it in the music business. I’d have a year; the pittance I’ve saved up towards retirement wouldn’t last any longer than that, and then there’d be literally nothing. I have hoped for a number of years I’d get to this point, and now I’m here. But am I ready?
I tend to be conservative where money’s concerned, and averse to taking risks. My ideal outcome would be some combination of all three options above—a good job, college, and music—but I don’t know if I have that choice. As the (hopefully) immortal Mick Jagger said, “You can’t always get what you want.”
Declaring independence is a lot like jumping off a cliff, where you can see a stream at the bottom, but you don’t know if you can hit it—and you don’t know how deep it is. I bet the Founding Fathers had that problem, too.
UPDATES: I get to do a radio interview for Whitby Shores; I’ll be interviewing “Country Rose,” an Internet promoter of independent music and also a playwright. I’ve been in a couple of her radio plays; I played “Danny,” a pit bull with a very Scooby-Dooish persona, and it’s as Danny that I’ll be interviewing Rose. (First time ever, I think, that a dog has interviewed anybody on the radio. One small pawprint for dogs, and all that.)
NEW SONG: “Something’s Missing” was in response to another of those write-a-song-to-this-title challenges. I wanted the “something missing” to be kind of a surprise, and ended up “channeling” George Jones, the master of plot twists in country music. I can’t sing like George Jones, of course (nobody can), but like to think I captured his style. The fact that it got wrote pretty fast, and recorded in one take (which has kind of become normal, now), and actually got a little attention, is one of the things that makes me wonder whether I might be able to make a living doing music.
EXPANDING SERVICES: Latest song by Beth Williams (one of my favorite lyricists to work with) is about a deliberate homewrecker (very Gretchen Wilson material)—and I can’t help with it, because it needs a female vocal, and I don’t do female vocals (being a guy, and all). Prompts the question, though, “Why not?” I do have musicians I tap regularly to play parts on recordings that I can’t—Darrin Wayne on harmonica, Dan Doshier on mandolin, and so on. Why not a female vocalist? The voice, I’ve maintained repeatedly, is an instrument. And I just might know a couple of people who’d be interested…
Joe
I haven’t declared my independence yet—I’m still going through the same sort of agonizing about the future the Founding Fathers did. I’ve said before I really do not know what I want to do with my life, and I still don’t. I’ve been in a holding pattern these past 8 weeks, camping out in the Cascade Locks house, fixing squirrel damage while I wonder what to do.
So here are the options. I think there are still only three of them.
ONE is I get another job—probably another city-manager job, in another town, and do what I’ve been doing the last 15 years. Realistically, that could be a little hard: nearly everybody wants a college degree in city management these days, and I don’t have one (I’m a computer programmer). The economy’s tough, and jobs of any kind are hard to come by. The minimal dribble of unemployment insurance runs out the end of September.
TWO is I become a college student again—something I haven’t done for 37 years. I meet with the student advisor from Eastern Oregon University Monday—they’re the only college in Oregon that offers a bachelor’s in city management. I had to declare a minor, and that—obviously—will be music. I do not know yet where the money to pay for it—and to live while I’m studenting—will come from. I can work while I’m studenting, of course, but I have to have a job to do that.
THREE—the scariest but also the most attractive—is I pack everything in, cash in my retirement, and plan on making it in the music business. I’d have a year; the pittance I’ve saved up towards retirement wouldn’t last any longer than that, and then there’d be literally nothing. I have hoped for a number of years I’d get to this point, and now I’m here. But am I ready?
I tend to be conservative where money’s concerned, and averse to taking risks. My ideal outcome would be some combination of all three options above—a good job, college, and music—but I don’t know if I have that choice. As the (hopefully) immortal Mick Jagger said, “You can’t always get what you want.”
Declaring independence is a lot like jumping off a cliff, where you can see a stream at the bottom, but you don’t know if you can hit it—and you don’t know how deep it is. I bet the Founding Fathers had that problem, too.
UPDATES: I get to do a radio interview for Whitby Shores; I’ll be interviewing “Country Rose,” an Internet promoter of independent music and also a playwright. I’ve been in a couple of her radio plays; I played “Danny,” a pit bull with a very Scooby-Dooish persona, and it’s as Danny that I’ll be interviewing Rose. (First time ever, I think, that a dog has interviewed anybody on the radio. One small pawprint for dogs, and all that.)
NEW SONG: “Something’s Missing” was in response to another of those write-a-song-to-this-title challenges. I wanted the “something missing” to be kind of a surprise, and ended up “channeling” George Jones, the master of plot twists in country music. I can’t sing like George Jones, of course (nobody can), but like to think I captured his style. The fact that it got wrote pretty fast, and recorded in one take (which has kind of become normal, now), and actually got a little attention, is one of the things that makes me wonder whether I might be able to make a living doing music.
EXPANDING SERVICES: Latest song by Beth Williams (one of my favorite lyricists to work with) is about a deliberate homewrecker (very Gretchen Wilson material)—and I can’t help with it, because it needs a female vocal, and I don’t do female vocals (being a guy, and all). Prompts the question, though, “Why not?” I do have musicians I tap regularly to play parts on recordings that I can’t—Darrin Wayne on harmonica, Dan Doshier on mandolin, and so on. Why not a female vocalist? The voice, I’ve maintained repeatedly, is an instrument. And I just might know a couple of people who’d be interested…
Joe
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