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
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