A new song to musicate! It’s by Skip Johnson, who in real life is an Adventist minister in New England (and one of the better lyricists I know). Hight “I Wish You Were Here to Hate My Boyfriends.” Maybe the best broken-home song I’ve run into yet. Of course, it’ll be country music (a nice, bouncy two-step, I think)—country music, I maintain, is an overlooked vehicle for talking about social issues, and this is another opportunity to prove the point. It would be neat if Polly Hager could sing this—it really could use to be sung by a girl—but I’ll musicate and record it first.
Poster for the April 24 gig is done. Still have the Rap to do. Might be able to fit in a practice Sunday, even though it’s Easter. (Resurrecting the band, as it were.)
I actually had fans that showed up to Saturday’s music session at the Tillamook Library, people (including some from out of town) who have come to City Hall in Garibaldi in the past—but I wasn’t at City Hall Friday night, and won’t be for another two weeks because of play performances. Those folks have bought CDs. Could I sell them another CD if I had one? Yep. Time to produce one? Yep. As noted earlier, “product” in the Modern World is going to have to be delivered quicker, cheaper, and in small quantities. That’s something independent musicians can do and the Big Boys can’t.
Thing is, it’s going to take a while before the “Deathgrass” CD is ready; John (who is recording engineer as well as the bass player) is frightfully busy through mid-June because of the city budget, which is essentially a second full-time job, and the process he wants to do—which is a good and professional one—is going to take time, just like it would if the Big Boys were doing it. Our September release date is probably realistic. My question is—has to be—whether there’s something additional I could do faster and sooner, without getting in the way of what John is doing.
Two primary considerations are fast and cheap. (Make that three: fast and cheap AND perfect.) The easiest way I know to achieve that is to do the recording “Patsy Cline style”—the band walks into the studio and records everything live and in one or two takes, and everything is perfect because (1) the band are good, (2) they know the material, and (3) the sound engineer is good. That’s how we did the “Santa’s Fallen” album, and it really minimized production costs. (And the album continues to sell.) But that was in Eastern Oregon. I have the band here, but do I have similar studio resources available?
The answer is a firm “maybe.” I have two friends and fellow musicians who are building a commercial-grade studio in one’s house; it’s intended for recording their stuff, but they could maybe be prevailed upon to do some outside work, perhaps in the guise of “experimentation.” They’re still working the bugs out of their system, and I’m not sure how long that will take. There’s Mike’s studio in Rockaway, too, but I haven’t visited and don’t know what he’s got there. I know not all studios have a big room where you could set up a band and have the members not interfere with each other; I ran into some studios in southern Oregon that because of their configuration could only do “layering,” one instrument at a time. That’s both more time-consuming and more expensive.
There’s one other possibility. I’d mentioned before the minister with recording equipment who said his experience was in recording live Gospel shows. I don’t know if he’d be interested in “doing” a tavern, even though it is a benefit (some ministers are sensitive about that sort of thing), but I guess it’s worth a phone call. If he can’t do this one, I would very much like him to record our “Failed Economy Show” benefit concert for the Food Pantry in June.
Joe
Monday, March 29, 2010
Thursday, March 25, 2010
CONCERT THOUGHTS (AND THE PLAY)...
The band have what drummer Chris calls “our homework”—the setlists and CDs. We can practice after 1 April, when Doc and his dog get back from vacation. (We don’t need the dog—just Doc—but they’re traveling together.) I’ve been in touch with the lady who’s coordinating the event; they’re raffling off some fancy prizes, too—fishing trips, and the like—and I want to make sure to promote those during the Rap. (I got the name of the other band, too. They’re called “Lannie and the Instigators.” I assume they’re a rock band—but I wonder what music they play? I assume it’s all covers—almost nobody plays original music but us.)
I’d like to have enough information together this week to do the poster. I’m not sure what to use for a graphic (must have a graphic—it’s what makes the posters interesting); I do have on file a Depression-vintage photo of an impromptu band performing at a barn dance that might work. The organizer lady tells me they’re going to have a Money Tree, and they’d like to use my Big Yellow Bucket (with the “Tipping is Not a City in China” sign on it). Maybe at this concert I can get somebody to snap a photo of the band; there aren’t any, and I could use one (or some) for the album, and for future concerts.
I am about as ready for “The Tempest” as I’m going to be; my lines and movements are down (‘twas fairly easy—mine is just a bit part), and now I get to worry about everybody else (which is pointless—I have absolutely no control over anybody else). The actors are all very good, but some of them have a lot of lines to master, and Elizabethan English doesn’t trip that easily off the tongue. I’ve fantasized about directing one of these—I’d enjoy doing a Shakespeare play as Rock Opera—but I would probably drive everyone crazy (including myself). I’d want to know everything was note-perfect long before we ever went on stage, and I’d be doing dress rehearsals every night for probably the two weeks before Opening Night. The cast and crew would hate me.
Photos of the cast are done; they’re a bit dark, but I couldn’t lighten them up too much without the actors’ skin turning orange because of the stage lighting. Only Caliban (the monster) can get away with looking like that; everybody else is (mostly) human. (And for some reason, the photos come out looking better on plain paper rather than photographic paper.)
I’ll miss playing with the Friday Night Group the next three Fridays; there are performances of “The Tempest” those nights. I will still get to play music Wednesday and Saturday afternoons, though. And after April 1, I’ll have practice for the April 24 concert to fit into the schedule, too. Still have the poster and the Rap to do for the concert. Also still to do is the Southern Oregon Songwriters newsletter, for which I’ve received almost none of the material yet, though the deadline is upon us.
And I received a surprise invitation from local historian Jack Graves to join a writers’ group he’s organizing. It’d be Wednesday afternoons, but before music, so I could do both. I know one other person involved, a writer from Bay City. I don’t know who else (if anyone) is going to be part of this, and I’m not sure what Jack has in mind. It does feel like playing with the grownups (both the other guys are quite a bit older than I am). I had originally thought “but I write different from those guys,” but I’m not sure I do—one thing all three of us have in common is we’ve all written the “Fencepost” column for the Tillamook paper.
What I expect to get out of that, I think, is practice writing—and I could use as much of that as I can get. That’s the reason I write for the newspaper (it’s sure not for the little dribbles of cash for my articles and columns): if I want to do good at this, I need to get to the point where whatever I write is perfect the first time, and quick, and generated without agony. I have a way to go.
Joe
I’d like to have enough information together this week to do the poster. I’m not sure what to use for a graphic (must have a graphic—it’s what makes the posters interesting); I do have on file a Depression-vintage photo of an impromptu band performing at a barn dance that might work. The organizer lady tells me they’re going to have a Money Tree, and they’d like to use my Big Yellow Bucket (with the “Tipping is Not a City in China” sign on it). Maybe at this concert I can get somebody to snap a photo of the band; there aren’t any, and I could use one (or some) for the album, and for future concerts.
I am about as ready for “The Tempest” as I’m going to be; my lines and movements are down (‘twas fairly easy—mine is just a bit part), and now I get to worry about everybody else (which is pointless—I have absolutely no control over anybody else). The actors are all very good, but some of them have a lot of lines to master, and Elizabethan English doesn’t trip that easily off the tongue. I’ve fantasized about directing one of these—I’d enjoy doing a Shakespeare play as Rock Opera—but I would probably drive everyone crazy (including myself). I’d want to know everything was note-perfect long before we ever went on stage, and I’d be doing dress rehearsals every night for probably the two weeks before Opening Night. The cast and crew would hate me.
Photos of the cast are done; they’re a bit dark, but I couldn’t lighten them up too much without the actors’ skin turning orange because of the stage lighting. Only Caliban (the monster) can get away with looking like that; everybody else is (mostly) human. (And for some reason, the photos come out looking better on plain paper rather than photographic paper.)
I’ll miss playing with the Friday Night Group the next three Fridays; there are performances of “The Tempest” those nights. I will still get to play music Wednesday and Saturday afternoons, though. And after April 1, I’ll have practice for the April 24 concert to fit into the schedule, too. Still have the poster and the Rap to do for the concert. Also still to do is the Southern Oregon Songwriters newsletter, for which I’ve received almost none of the material yet, though the deadline is upon us.
And I received a surprise invitation from local historian Jack Graves to join a writers’ group he’s organizing. It’d be Wednesday afternoons, but before music, so I could do both. I know one other person involved, a writer from Bay City. I don’t know who else (if anyone) is going to be part of this, and I’m not sure what Jack has in mind. It does feel like playing with the grownups (both the other guys are quite a bit older than I am). I had originally thought “but I write different from those guys,” but I’m not sure I do—one thing all three of us have in common is we’ve all written the “Fencepost” column for the Tillamook paper.
What I expect to get out of that, I think, is practice writing—and I could use as much of that as I can get. That’s the reason I write for the newspaper (it’s sure not for the little dribbles of cash for my articles and columns): if I want to do good at this, I need to get to the point where whatever I write is perfect the first time, and quick, and generated without agony. I have a way to go.
Joe
Sunday, March 21, 2010
CURMUDGEONLY THOUGHTS ABOUT THE MUSIC BUSINESS...
A question from Lorelei Loveridge, founder and chief rabble-rouser of Performing Songwriters United Worldwide, about working conditions for performing artists in the music business, and what we’re doing (or can do) about it. Can one coax order out of chaos?
The chaos itself has order, I think. One framework that seems to come close to defining the music industry today is the old Soviet Union Communist Party. There was—the Soviets often pointed it out—intense competition within the Party, but only, be it noted, within the Party; there was no chance of advancement outside the Party, and who got what inside the Party was rather firmly in the hands of a handful of people. It does sound a lot like Nashville today, doesn’t it?
Officially classless, it’s a very stratified system, with folks at the top who control the Party and most of its functions, Party members benefiting from it, those in the Party but not benefiting from it, and those who are outside the Party altogether. I’m in the last group, and I don’t like it. On the other hand, I consider trying to become a Party member a waste of my time, because benefits—indeed, Party membership itself—are distributed if not arbitrarily, at least without reference to what one can do. I want to be invited to participate in a system that rewards talent, and I don’t think the music industry does either any more. So I deliberately work outside the system, at the same time that I complain about not being part of it.
To be sure, there are cracks in the music industry’s Iron Curtain. The Internet, which nobody controls (and therefore the music industry does not control) offers an alternative distribution system and publicity system—if anyone can figure out how to take advantage of it effectively. At this point, a lot of people are trying to do so, and I watch them, trying to puzzle out what works.
I think working conditions for performing artists—the ones not at the top of the food chain—are best described as “appalling.” Working bands are paid today the same as the Dodson Drifters made 30 years ago—only gas doesn’t cost a quarter a gallon any more, and cars aren’t under five grand, and medical insurance for a family isn’t $200 a month. The few people I know who are making a living as full-time musicians are working very hard, and living pretty close to the edge. These days, most performing artists need to have day jobs—and though it’s not much mentioned, their craft suffers because they don’t get to devote as much time to it.
What does one do? I tend to default to old solutions: I perform a lot, not so much to make money at it (though that would be nice) as to showcase the material (from a craft standpoint, I need to know if my stuff is any good, too, and only playing it to a live audience and seeing how they react will tell me that). I play a lot for free, and on the Internet my songs are playable and downloadable for free, because I’m not a household word yet. I try at every opportunity to get other people playing my stuff, and I return the favor by playing other independent writers’ stuff—cloning myself (and them) on a small scale.
The above is the business plan of the drug dealer—I will hook you with free samples, in the expectation of making money off you later. Yes, that entails a confidence in the product, but I expect I have that. The drug dealers were one of the few successful non-Party business groups in the old Soviet Union, so there’s an historical precedent, too. And when the Soviet Union finally collapsed (as I hope the music industry does also), the drug dealers had the first functioning business organization able to fill the breach. There is hope for the future, in other words. (I will need a day job first, however. I cannot make money off just being a musician.)
In general, as a traditionalist in music style (if not content), I see no point in gimmicks. I will do music videos (cheaply, of course), because that takes advantage of the visual orientation of modern society, but some of those videos will simply be performance videos—not everything is subject to “enhancement.” In the same vein, I’ll sell the next album on CDBaby, too, because it’s an alternative distribution network not part of the “Party apparatus.”
And of course, there’s a song in it. Besides the growing number of Failed Economy songs, I do have one about the music business—“Meet Me at the Stairs,” written back in 2001 as I was watching performers trying to peddle themselves and their wares at a bluegrass festival. Link is http://www.soundclick.com/share?songid=4841699 . Music reflects life. I just sometimes wish it didn’t reflect it so darkly.
Joe
The chaos itself has order, I think. One framework that seems to come close to defining the music industry today is the old Soviet Union Communist Party. There was—the Soviets often pointed it out—intense competition within the Party, but only, be it noted, within the Party; there was no chance of advancement outside the Party, and who got what inside the Party was rather firmly in the hands of a handful of people. It does sound a lot like Nashville today, doesn’t it?
Officially classless, it’s a very stratified system, with folks at the top who control the Party and most of its functions, Party members benefiting from it, those in the Party but not benefiting from it, and those who are outside the Party altogether. I’m in the last group, and I don’t like it. On the other hand, I consider trying to become a Party member a waste of my time, because benefits—indeed, Party membership itself—are distributed if not arbitrarily, at least without reference to what one can do. I want to be invited to participate in a system that rewards talent, and I don’t think the music industry does either any more. So I deliberately work outside the system, at the same time that I complain about not being part of it.
To be sure, there are cracks in the music industry’s Iron Curtain. The Internet, which nobody controls (and therefore the music industry does not control) offers an alternative distribution system and publicity system—if anyone can figure out how to take advantage of it effectively. At this point, a lot of people are trying to do so, and I watch them, trying to puzzle out what works.
I think working conditions for performing artists—the ones not at the top of the food chain—are best described as “appalling.” Working bands are paid today the same as the Dodson Drifters made 30 years ago—only gas doesn’t cost a quarter a gallon any more, and cars aren’t under five grand, and medical insurance for a family isn’t $200 a month. The few people I know who are making a living as full-time musicians are working very hard, and living pretty close to the edge. These days, most performing artists need to have day jobs—and though it’s not much mentioned, their craft suffers because they don’t get to devote as much time to it.
What does one do? I tend to default to old solutions: I perform a lot, not so much to make money at it (though that would be nice) as to showcase the material (from a craft standpoint, I need to know if my stuff is any good, too, and only playing it to a live audience and seeing how they react will tell me that). I play a lot for free, and on the Internet my songs are playable and downloadable for free, because I’m not a household word yet. I try at every opportunity to get other people playing my stuff, and I return the favor by playing other independent writers’ stuff—cloning myself (and them) on a small scale.
The above is the business plan of the drug dealer—I will hook you with free samples, in the expectation of making money off you later. Yes, that entails a confidence in the product, but I expect I have that. The drug dealers were one of the few successful non-Party business groups in the old Soviet Union, so there’s an historical precedent, too. And when the Soviet Union finally collapsed (as I hope the music industry does also), the drug dealers had the first functioning business organization able to fill the breach. There is hope for the future, in other words. (I will need a day job first, however. I cannot make money off just being a musician.)
In general, as a traditionalist in music style (if not content), I see no point in gimmicks. I will do music videos (cheaply, of course), because that takes advantage of the visual orientation of modern society, but some of those videos will simply be performance videos—not everything is subject to “enhancement.” In the same vein, I’ll sell the next album on CDBaby, too, because it’s an alternative distribution network not part of the “Party apparatus.”
And of course, there’s a song in it. Besides the growing number of Failed Economy songs, I do have one about the music business—“Meet Me at the Stairs,” written back in 2001 as I was watching performers trying to peddle themselves and their wares at a bluegrass festival. Link is http://www.soundclick.com/share?songid=4841699 . Music reflects life. I just sometimes wish it didn’t reflect it so darkly.
Joe
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
THE APRIL 24 SETLIST...
Tentative setlist for the April 24 “Deathgrass” concert looks like:
SET #1 (11 SONGS)
Dead Things in the Shower (Bobbie Gallup)—mod. fast two-step
Armadillo on the Interstate—slow & sleazy
Things Are Getting Better Now That Things Are Getting Worse (Gene Burnett)—fast two-step
Tillamook Railroad Blues—deliberate blues
For Their Own Ends (Southern Pigfish)—folk-rock
Eatin’ Cornflakes from a Hubcap Blues—slow & sleazy quasi-blues
Our Own Little Stimulus Plan (Betty Holt)—Buddy Holly-style rockabilly
Welcome to Hebo Waltz—fast waltz
Ain’t Got No Home in This World Any More (Woody Guthrie)—mod. two-step
Test Tube Baby—rock ‘n’ roll
Un-Easy Street (Stan Good)—mod. two-step
SET #2 (9 SONGS)
Duct Tape—mod. country
Hey, Little Chicken—slow & sleazy quasi-blues
Dance a Little Longer (Woody Guthrie)—country rock
No Good Songs About the War—mod. slow two-step
[NEW] Love Trails of the Zombie Snails (Southern Pigfish)—folk-rock
[NEW] She Ain’t Starvin’ Herself—mod. fast blues
Free-Range Person—fast bluegrass
Milepost 43—mod. two-step
Goin’ Down the Road Feelin’ Bad (Woody Guthrie)—fast bluegrass
A 55-minute set and a 50-minute set; that allows for a 15-minute break in the middle. Some rock, some blues, some country, and some bluegrass; one waltz. Mostly good dance numbers, I think, and includes the songs that we perform best. There are two songs on the list Doc and Mike haven’t played before, and two more that none of us have played together. The setlist has our standard opening and ending songs in their usual places (it’s almost a tradition now), but maybe enough variety and re-arranging so it sounds a little different.
Next steps: re-record “Love Trails of the Zombie Snails” in a key in which I can sing it better, master and record the CDs for everybody, print lyric sheets for the songs they don’t know—and get copies to Doc before he and his dog leave on vacation. I have a Rap to work out, and I’ll need to talk to Chris so I can pepper it with appropriate pitches for donations and promos for the band that’ll be coming after us. Poster to design, too.
I don’t think anybody else functions quite like we do, and I’m not sure why. It works, I think. The frontman (me) does not give the audience a chance to get bored; if you can’t jump right from one song to the next (and we’ve never tried that), there should be some sort of patter that prevents the silence. That’s a trick I picked up from the late Jeff Tanzer of the Dodson Drifters (and an entertainer par excellence). Giving everybody CDs with the songs in order, with cue sheets and (where needed) lyrics, was designed to assuage my need to be thoroughly organized in advance—but the band likes it, and it does minimize the need for practice. That we play almost all unheard-of original music (most of it mine) doesn’t seem to have stopped audiences from coming.
Practice after April 1. Before then, there’s “The Tempest” to get through. I think I have my lines down now.
Joe
SET #1 (11 SONGS)
Dead Things in the Shower (Bobbie Gallup)—mod. fast two-step
Armadillo on the Interstate—slow & sleazy
Things Are Getting Better Now That Things Are Getting Worse (Gene Burnett)—fast two-step
Tillamook Railroad Blues—deliberate blues
For Their Own Ends (Southern Pigfish)—folk-rock
Eatin’ Cornflakes from a Hubcap Blues—slow & sleazy quasi-blues
Our Own Little Stimulus Plan (Betty Holt)—Buddy Holly-style rockabilly
Welcome to Hebo Waltz—fast waltz
Ain’t Got No Home in This World Any More (Woody Guthrie)—mod. two-step
Test Tube Baby—rock ‘n’ roll
Un-Easy Street (Stan Good)—mod. two-step
SET #2 (9 SONGS)
Duct Tape—mod. country
Hey, Little Chicken—slow & sleazy quasi-blues
Dance a Little Longer (Woody Guthrie)—country rock
No Good Songs About the War—mod. slow two-step
[NEW] Love Trails of the Zombie Snails (Southern Pigfish)—folk-rock
[NEW] She Ain’t Starvin’ Herself—mod. fast blues
Free-Range Person—fast bluegrass
Milepost 43—mod. two-step
Goin’ Down the Road Feelin’ Bad (Woody Guthrie)—fast bluegrass
A 55-minute set and a 50-minute set; that allows for a 15-minute break in the middle. Some rock, some blues, some country, and some bluegrass; one waltz. Mostly good dance numbers, I think, and includes the songs that we perform best. There are two songs on the list Doc and Mike haven’t played before, and two more that none of us have played together. The setlist has our standard opening and ending songs in their usual places (it’s almost a tradition now), but maybe enough variety and re-arranging so it sounds a little different.
Next steps: re-record “Love Trails of the Zombie Snails” in a key in which I can sing it better, master and record the CDs for everybody, print lyric sheets for the songs they don’t know—and get copies to Doc before he and his dog leave on vacation. I have a Rap to work out, and I’ll need to talk to Chris so I can pepper it with appropriate pitches for donations and promos for the band that’ll be coming after us. Poster to design, too.
I don’t think anybody else functions quite like we do, and I’m not sure why. It works, I think. The frontman (me) does not give the audience a chance to get bored; if you can’t jump right from one song to the next (and we’ve never tried that), there should be some sort of patter that prevents the silence. That’s a trick I picked up from the late Jeff Tanzer of the Dodson Drifters (and an entertainer par excellence). Giving everybody CDs with the songs in order, with cue sheets and (where needed) lyrics, was designed to assuage my need to be thoroughly organized in advance—but the band likes it, and it does minimize the need for practice. That we play almost all unheard-of original music (most of it mine) doesn’t seem to have stopped audiences from coming.
Practice after April 1. Before then, there’s “The Tempest” to get through. I think I have my lines down now.
Joe
Monday, March 15, 2010
MORE UPDATES...
Reviews and updates: The Monday Night Musical performance went well; Doc, Bill, JoAnn and I were easily more professional than the rest of the performers they had. I hope it turns into more business. I played “The Dead Sweethearts Polka” for both the Friday Night Group and our crew at the Tillamook Library, but I don’t think it’s concert material—at least, not yet; it is hard to sing in the key I recorded it in (it’s way at the bottom of my voice range), but the happy serial killer motif also disturbs people (I can’t complain—that was intentional). I do like the song, though. I guess the best one can say is it’s one of those songs that just can’t be played everywhere—like “Dirty Deeds We Done to Sheep.”
I finally did hear from the 2nd Street Public Market’s director (had to call her, though); the opening of the building has been delayed again (I knew that from the newspaper), and while I’m “on her list,” she hadn’t contacted anybody. I did get an e-mail from her shortly after we talked on the phone—I presume it went to everybody else “on her list,” too—saying what was going on. That’s one to keep following up on; it’s paying business.
Four songs on the ReverbNation Website now (which leaves—what? 70-plus to go?); it’s got a few features now that imitate some of the things Soundclick does, so it may be okay. It’s supposed to “link” with Facebook, but it doesn’t, of course, because Facebook keeps “fixing” things so they don’t work. I activated a long-dormant “LinkedIn” account, too, after a friend/fiddler/fellow square dancer/ex-teacher said she’d gotten some business out of contacts there. LinkedIn proceeded to go spam everybody in my e-mail address book (which is rather a lot of people), which was probably really annoying to a lot of folks. (I know I hate it when somebody does it to me.) LinkedIn is potentially a business-generating site—I can post my resume there, and maybe some graphic-design and writing samples. I just hope I haven’t driven away business by being inadvertently annoying.
And a fellow songwriter says he’s starting up a new label, “Pop Can Records,” and asked me if I’d be interested in sending him some stuff; the answer is yes. What the fellow is creating is actually an OMD (Online Music Distributorship), like Soundclick, ReverbNation, et al., where he says the stuff I send him will be available and promoted. (He’s small, of course—but having somebody else promoting me, too, would be nice, even on a small scale.) All free—but the material I have on Soundclick, et al., is all listen-toable and downloadable for free, too.
I think I’ve probably got a dozen good tunes I could send him. There’s a couple that were done by The Collaborators, the Internet band I worked with some years back (“The Cat with the Strat” and “She Ain’t Starvin’ Herself”), a few that were recorded and mixed by the incomparable Gem Watson (“Dirty Deeds We Done to Sheep,” “The Frog Next Door” and my St. Leif’s Day song, “The Six-Legged Polka”), and a couple I recorded with other people playing lead (“Hey, Little Chicken,” with Dan Doshier, and “Free-Range Person,” with both Dan and Darrin Wayne). And I think I’ve got a few home recordings with me playing all parts that came out decent, too.
Not one evening at home this week; meetings Monday and Wednesday, Tempest rehearsals Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday and Sunday (I think I have my lines down now), and music Friday (the days are full, too). Upcoming pretty quick, I have another SOSA newsletter to typeset (I’ve recommended the Bay City Arts Center do something similar—it’s really simple to do).
Joe
I finally did hear from the 2nd Street Public Market’s director (had to call her, though); the opening of the building has been delayed again (I knew that from the newspaper), and while I’m “on her list,” she hadn’t contacted anybody. I did get an e-mail from her shortly after we talked on the phone—I presume it went to everybody else “on her list,” too—saying what was going on. That’s one to keep following up on; it’s paying business.
Four songs on the ReverbNation Website now (which leaves—what? 70-plus to go?); it’s got a few features now that imitate some of the things Soundclick does, so it may be okay. It’s supposed to “link” with Facebook, but it doesn’t, of course, because Facebook keeps “fixing” things so they don’t work. I activated a long-dormant “LinkedIn” account, too, after a friend/fiddler/fellow square dancer/ex-teacher said she’d gotten some business out of contacts there. LinkedIn proceeded to go spam everybody in my e-mail address book (which is rather a lot of people), which was probably really annoying to a lot of folks. (I know I hate it when somebody does it to me.) LinkedIn is potentially a business-generating site—I can post my resume there, and maybe some graphic-design and writing samples. I just hope I haven’t driven away business by being inadvertently annoying.
And a fellow songwriter says he’s starting up a new label, “Pop Can Records,” and asked me if I’d be interested in sending him some stuff; the answer is yes. What the fellow is creating is actually an OMD (Online Music Distributorship), like Soundclick, ReverbNation, et al., where he says the stuff I send him will be available and promoted. (He’s small, of course—but having somebody else promoting me, too, would be nice, even on a small scale.) All free—but the material I have on Soundclick, et al., is all listen-toable and downloadable for free, too.
I think I’ve probably got a dozen good tunes I could send him. There’s a couple that were done by The Collaborators, the Internet band I worked with some years back (“The Cat with the Strat” and “She Ain’t Starvin’ Herself”), a few that were recorded and mixed by the incomparable Gem Watson (“Dirty Deeds We Done to Sheep,” “The Frog Next Door” and my St. Leif’s Day song, “The Six-Legged Polka”), and a couple I recorded with other people playing lead (“Hey, Little Chicken,” with Dan Doshier, and “Free-Range Person,” with both Dan and Darrin Wayne). And I think I’ve got a few home recordings with me playing all parts that came out decent, too.
Not one evening at home this week; meetings Monday and Wednesday, Tempest rehearsals Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday and Sunday (I think I have my lines down now), and music Friday (the days are full, too). Upcoming pretty quick, I have another SOSA newsletter to typeset (I’ve recommended the Bay City Arts Center do something similar—it’s really simple to do).
Joe
Thursday, March 11, 2010
BEING AUTOMATIC (&C.)...
“The Dead Sweethearts Polka” turned out surprisingly good. Link is http://www.soundclick.com/share?songid=8862558. While I doubt it’s album material (or even performance material), much less “the best you’ve ever done” like some people said, it is fun to listen to. Some folks had suggestions for instruments that could be added—accordion, mandolin, Jews’ harp—and I do know people who play all those things, and play them rather well. It is possible. One addition I’d be tempted to try is “Chainsaw Bob” Lichner on the musical saw—with the right amount of reverb, it’d add an attractive spookiness (as if the serial-killer lyrics weren’t spooky enough).
On the other hand, I have already accomplished my two major purposes for this song. I got Jon Harrington over in England a song for his “it’s about a river” challenge in timely fashion, and I got out of my head the somewhat sick notion of a happy song about a serial killer. Since I don’t expect to do anything with the song, I’m a little reluctant to sink more energy into what would be only for fun.
I have passed on a copy of the recording to bass player John, and if he likes it, we might do it at the April 24 concert. It is a good dance number (and people in this area do like polkas), and I was trying to concentrate on danceable material for this gig. Looks like both Doc and Mike are in for lead players; I need the setlist organized and a copy on CD to Doc (Mike, too) before Doc and his hunting dog go on vacation the 18th. We can practice after Doc gets back 1 April.
It appears our “Gang of Four” running the Arts Center will be a “Gang of Three” instead (one of the people dropped out, though she may be back); we have an Executive Director (Loni), Program Director (Karen), and Marketing Director (me), have set office hours (each of us doing two 4-hour shifts a week), business cards (by me), and we’ll get “@baycityartscenter.org” edresses as soon as Bruce tells Loni how to do it. We’ll go over the financials this week, and start putting them together a budget.
I probably need to build them a computer for the office (they have a Mac, and all my graphic-design software is PC-based). If I’m doing this for no money, the computer will have Windows 98 for an operating system, because I have that available and free; all my graphic-design software works with Windows 98, because it (like me) is old. Upgrading the operating system would be nice, but it can wait until there’s money. (I have a 1997-vintage non-Microsoft word processing program they can have, too.)
I was being impressed with myself for being able to write my weekly column for the newspaper basically in the time it takes to type it (that’s happened several weeks in a row, now), and wondering if I could apply whatever it is I’m doing to music. Maybe. What I have with the column is a regular circuit of people I can tap for material—plus enough people know now what I do, and can do, that people call, e-mail and stop me on the street with tidbits.
Applying the same tactics to the music business means intensifying my self-promotion and exposure, and making it automatic to the extent possible. Presently, most of my recorded music is on my two Soundclick “pages,” with a handful on MySpace; I have a couple of tunes posted on SongRamp, and one on ReverbNation (and they have gotten a little attention). I should expand that. In the same vein, the free Internet “stations” might as well get my stuff, too. And I should be performing more, too, of course. Making the Bay City Arts Center’s open mike monthly—whatever day it ends up being on—is good. Once the run of “The Tempest” is over (mid-April), I can hit up some of the venue-runners I know in Portland, too. Yes, all free—the paying stuff comes later, I think (or hope); what I want to do here and now is make the free stuff as automatic and non-time-consuming as possible, so there’s time for other stuff later. Just like the newspaper column.
Music only on Friday this week, I think; full run-through rehearsal for “The Tempest” on Saturday will probably obviate playing music at the library. More jobs to apply for (or is that more rejection letters?), and the FAFSA to do for student financial aid. Time to register for spring term college classes.
Joe
On the other hand, I have already accomplished my two major purposes for this song. I got Jon Harrington over in England a song for his “it’s about a river” challenge in timely fashion, and I got out of my head the somewhat sick notion of a happy song about a serial killer. Since I don’t expect to do anything with the song, I’m a little reluctant to sink more energy into what would be only for fun.
I have passed on a copy of the recording to bass player John, and if he likes it, we might do it at the April 24 concert. It is a good dance number (and people in this area do like polkas), and I was trying to concentrate on danceable material for this gig. Looks like both Doc and Mike are in for lead players; I need the setlist organized and a copy on CD to Doc (Mike, too) before Doc and his hunting dog go on vacation the 18th. We can practice after Doc gets back 1 April.
It appears our “Gang of Four” running the Arts Center will be a “Gang of Three” instead (one of the people dropped out, though she may be back); we have an Executive Director (Loni), Program Director (Karen), and Marketing Director (me), have set office hours (each of us doing two 4-hour shifts a week), business cards (by me), and we’ll get “@baycityartscenter.org” edresses as soon as Bruce tells Loni how to do it. We’ll go over the financials this week, and start putting them together a budget.
I probably need to build them a computer for the office (they have a Mac, and all my graphic-design software is PC-based). If I’m doing this for no money, the computer will have Windows 98 for an operating system, because I have that available and free; all my graphic-design software works with Windows 98, because it (like me) is old. Upgrading the operating system would be nice, but it can wait until there’s money. (I have a 1997-vintage non-Microsoft word processing program they can have, too.)
I was being impressed with myself for being able to write my weekly column for the newspaper basically in the time it takes to type it (that’s happened several weeks in a row, now), and wondering if I could apply whatever it is I’m doing to music. Maybe. What I have with the column is a regular circuit of people I can tap for material—plus enough people know now what I do, and can do, that people call, e-mail and stop me on the street with tidbits.
Applying the same tactics to the music business means intensifying my self-promotion and exposure, and making it automatic to the extent possible. Presently, most of my recorded music is on my two Soundclick “pages,” with a handful on MySpace; I have a couple of tunes posted on SongRamp, and one on ReverbNation (and they have gotten a little attention). I should expand that. In the same vein, the free Internet “stations” might as well get my stuff, too. And I should be performing more, too, of course. Making the Bay City Arts Center’s open mike monthly—whatever day it ends up being on—is good. Once the run of “The Tempest” is over (mid-April), I can hit up some of the venue-runners I know in Portland, too. Yes, all free—the paying stuff comes later, I think (or hope); what I want to do here and now is make the free stuff as automatic and non-time-consuming as possible, so there’s time for other stuff later. Just like the newspaper column.
Music only on Friday this week, I think; full run-through rehearsal for “The Tempest” on Saturday will probably obviate playing music at the library. More jobs to apply for (or is that more rejection letters?), and the FAFSA to do for student financial aid. Time to register for spring term college classes.
Joe
Monday, March 8, 2010
"THE DEAD SWEETHEARTS POLKA"...
I was asked by the fellow buying more of my CDs why I hadn’t been discovered yet. My stuff, he said, is better’n what’s on the radio or in the record stores. (Thanks.) There are two answers, a curmudgeonly one and a non-curmudgeonly one, and I’m not sure which is right.
The non-curmudgeonly answer is that success in the music business as it’s configured today depends entirely on whom you know (or rather, who knows you) rather than what you can do, and not enough people know me. I keep playing every chance I get, everywhere I can, and get my records into as many hands as I can, and maybe the right people will notice me. In the meantime, there is a living to be made (I think) on the fringes of the music business, and I’m pursuing that.
The curmudgeonly response (my usual answer) is that success in the music business as it’s configured today depends entirely on whom you know (or rather, who knows you) rather than what you can do, and not only do not enough people know me, they’re not really interested in knowing anybody new. I keep playing every chance I get, everywhere I can, and get my records into as many hands as I can, because it’s all I can do. There is a living to be made (I think) on the fringes of the music business, and I’m pursuing that.
Note the two answers sound an awful lot alike. They also result in the same work plan, so which one is right doesn’t matter an awful lot.
It’s tempting to follow that with “there’s a song in it,” but a lot of times, I’m not sure exactly where inspiration comes from. I only know that after I’ve written something, I feel better.
The latest song was in response to a challenge from that British writers’ bunch assembled by Jon Harrington, that I’ve been sort of following. (“Sort of” because they get together in person, and I can’t afford monthly trips to England. Yet.) We (they?) were charged with writing a song about a river flowing to the sea. How—or why—mine turned into an anthem about a serial killer, I am not sure. (A river is a good place to dispose of bodies, of course.) So I have a bouncy, foot-stompin’ little number that might get people up dancing if they ignore what the song’s about. It even has an eye-catching title: “The Dead Sweethearts Polka.” (It doesn’t have to be a polka, of course—I can hear “Deathgrass” playing it as rock ‘n’ roll, and it sounding just fine, and every bit as danceable.)
As this is written, the lyrics are getting peer review from the other writers at Just Plain Folks, and depending on what they have to say, it may be time to record it. In the same vein, it may be desirable to perform it with the Friday Night Group—I’ve confronted them with weird stuff before. I am bothered a bit by the song, because I’m not sure what prompted it; songs always reflect (sometimes very dimly) something going on in my life—but a happy song about a serial killer? What brought on that? At least I don’t have to worry about ruining my reputation—I don’t have one. One of the advantages of not being famous is I don’t have an image I have to protect. I can write anything.
UPDATES: Not a word from the 2nd Street Public Market folks in Tillamook, who were soliciting performers on Craigslist; I’ll have to phone them and tell them I would really rather be rejected than just ignored. I did get a solicitation from one of our burlesque performers in Portland, inviting me to an open mike she was hosting—and I had to beg off, because I’ve got a meeting to cover for the paper that night. I do hope she does it again, and on a night I can go. I’d even make more thongs for that one. Music Wednesday, Friday and Saturday this week, and another “Gang of Four” meeting Wednesday morning at the Arts Center. (And I did sell two CDs at the open mike in Bay City Friday.)
Joe
The non-curmudgeonly answer is that success in the music business as it’s configured today depends entirely on whom you know (or rather, who knows you) rather than what you can do, and not enough people know me. I keep playing every chance I get, everywhere I can, and get my records into as many hands as I can, and maybe the right people will notice me. In the meantime, there is a living to be made (I think) on the fringes of the music business, and I’m pursuing that.
The curmudgeonly response (my usual answer) is that success in the music business as it’s configured today depends entirely on whom you know (or rather, who knows you) rather than what you can do, and not only do not enough people know me, they’re not really interested in knowing anybody new. I keep playing every chance I get, everywhere I can, and get my records into as many hands as I can, because it’s all I can do. There is a living to be made (I think) on the fringes of the music business, and I’m pursuing that.
Note the two answers sound an awful lot alike. They also result in the same work plan, so which one is right doesn’t matter an awful lot.
It’s tempting to follow that with “there’s a song in it,” but a lot of times, I’m not sure exactly where inspiration comes from. I only know that after I’ve written something, I feel better.
The latest song was in response to a challenge from that British writers’ bunch assembled by Jon Harrington, that I’ve been sort of following. (“Sort of” because they get together in person, and I can’t afford monthly trips to England. Yet.) We (they?) were charged with writing a song about a river flowing to the sea. How—or why—mine turned into an anthem about a serial killer, I am not sure. (A river is a good place to dispose of bodies, of course.) So I have a bouncy, foot-stompin’ little number that might get people up dancing if they ignore what the song’s about. It even has an eye-catching title: “The Dead Sweethearts Polka.” (It doesn’t have to be a polka, of course—I can hear “Deathgrass” playing it as rock ‘n’ roll, and it sounding just fine, and every bit as danceable.)
As this is written, the lyrics are getting peer review from the other writers at Just Plain Folks, and depending on what they have to say, it may be time to record it. In the same vein, it may be desirable to perform it with the Friday Night Group—I’ve confronted them with weird stuff before. I am bothered a bit by the song, because I’m not sure what prompted it; songs always reflect (sometimes very dimly) something going on in my life—but a happy song about a serial killer? What brought on that? At least I don’t have to worry about ruining my reputation—I don’t have one. One of the advantages of not being famous is I don’t have an image I have to protect. I can write anything.
UPDATES: Not a word from the 2nd Street Public Market folks in Tillamook, who were soliciting performers on Craigslist; I’ll have to phone them and tell them I would really rather be rejected than just ignored. I did get a solicitation from one of our burlesque performers in Portland, inviting me to an open mike she was hosting—and I had to beg off, because I’ve got a meeting to cover for the paper that night. I do hope she does it again, and on a night I can go. I’d even make more thongs for that one. Music Wednesday, Friday and Saturday this week, and another “Gang of Four” meeting Wednesday morning at the Arts Center. (And I did sell two CDs at the open mike in Bay City Friday.)
Joe
Friday, March 5, 2010
SO WE'RE BUSY...
Despite its being a busy week, I have managed to get done all the stuff I planned to get done. It feels weird to actually have a night (well, part of a night) off.
Bay City Arts Center business cards are designed for the Gang of Four; they lack only the e-mail addresses, which executive director Loni will work out with Bruce Deloria, whom I put her in touch with (another instance of “I can’t do this myself, but I know people”—a frequent mantra of mine in the city-manager business). Survey cards are done for the drawing, too, that’ll put names on the Arts Center mailing list. A flyer advertising the daffodil bulbs somebody donated ($2.50 a bundle—great deal). All simple, fast stuff that (of course) looks good. I love this kind of work.
The weekly column’s done for the newspaper, too, along with a bigger article on next weekend’s Garibaldi Crab Races (thank you, editor LeeAnn). The article took a couple of hours (I’m always doing time-and-motion studies on myself), but the column was fast. I’d mentioned the Wednesday afternoon jam sessions at the Garibaldi Pub in last week’s column, and a couple of new audience people showed up this Wednesday, so I know somebody’s reading the column. (Only four musicians at the Pub this time, so I got to play lead guitar on everything—and I noticed the folks listened, and seemed to like it.)
Southern Oregon Songwriters Assn. newsletter’s done also, and I guess everybody liked it. Now that the template’s built, the next one will be easier (good, because I need to be producing one of these every month). I should see if the Bay City Arts Center needs a newsletter, too. It could follow much the same template. Might be better than the frequent e-mails advertising individual events.
I added a treble guitar part to my no-vocal recording of “When They Die, I Put Them in the Cookies” for the Texas kid’s talent show performance, and sent it off to the mom. (As recorded, the rhythm guitar was too bassy, but I had a spare track to work with.) And there was the rehearsal for “The Tempest.” My part is small, but as the first mate on a sinking ship, I’m supposed to own the stage in that first 4-minute scene. Slowly but surely, I’m learning my lines.
I’ll have a slot at Friday night’s open mike in Bay City (as well as being one of the people running the thing)—probably 15 minutes, which means three songs. The folks in Bay City haven’t heard me in over a year, which means there’s over a dozen new songs they haven’t heard unless they attended one or more of the “Deathgrass” concerts. The easiest route to go is probably to simply play the three most recent songs—“Last Song of the Highwayman” (my medieval ballad), “Up in Heaven, the Angels Play Music” (which I probably don’t dare call “religious”), and Stan Good’s “Take-Out Food,” which I musicated (good old traditional roadkill). Two fairly slow numbers, bracketing a fairly manic polka (which will sound more like bluegrass because there’s no accordion). Phone call this evening from a family that’s coming to the Arts Center because they want to buy more of my CDs. (Yay!)
The new 2nd Street Public Market in Tillamook—the people who hired somebody other than me to be their executive director—were advertising on craigslist for performers (I guess they’re finally going to be open), and I sent them an e-mail—which they haven’t answered. I guess it’s worth a “please tell me yes or no” phone call. I would like to think I have enough of a reputation in this area by now to be considered a viable draw, but I don’t really know.
Joe
Bay City Arts Center business cards are designed for the Gang of Four; they lack only the e-mail addresses, which executive director Loni will work out with Bruce Deloria, whom I put her in touch with (another instance of “I can’t do this myself, but I know people”—a frequent mantra of mine in the city-manager business). Survey cards are done for the drawing, too, that’ll put names on the Arts Center mailing list. A flyer advertising the daffodil bulbs somebody donated ($2.50 a bundle—great deal). All simple, fast stuff that (of course) looks good. I love this kind of work.
The weekly column’s done for the newspaper, too, along with a bigger article on next weekend’s Garibaldi Crab Races (thank you, editor LeeAnn). The article took a couple of hours (I’m always doing time-and-motion studies on myself), but the column was fast. I’d mentioned the Wednesday afternoon jam sessions at the Garibaldi Pub in last week’s column, and a couple of new audience people showed up this Wednesday, so I know somebody’s reading the column. (Only four musicians at the Pub this time, so I got to play lead guitar on everything—and I noticed the folks listened, and seemed to like it.)
Southern Oregon Songwriters Assn. newsletter’s done also, and I guess everybody liked it. Now that the template’s built, the next one will be easier (good, because I need to be producing one of these every month). I should see if the Bay City Arts Center needs a newsletter, too. It could follow much the same template. Might be better than the frequent e-mails advertising individual events.
I added a treble guitar part to my no-vocal recording of “When They Die, I Put Them in the Cookies” for the Texas kid’s talent show performance, and sent it off to the mom. (As recorded, the rhythm guitar was too bassy, but I had a spare track to work with.) And there was the rehearsal for “The Tempest.” My part is small, but as the first mate on a sinking ship, I’m supposed to own the stage in that first 4-minute scene. Slowly but surely, I’m learning my lines.
I’ll have a slot at Friday night’s open mike in Bay City (as well as being one of the people running the thing)—probably 15 minutes, which means three songs. The folks in Bay City haven’t heard me in over a year, which means there’s over a dozen new songs they haven’t heard unless they attended one or more of the “Deathgrass” concerts. The easiest route to go is probably to simply play the three most recent songs—“Last Song of the Highwayman” (my medieval ballad), “Up in Heaven, the Angels Play Music” (which I probably don’t dare call “religious”), and Stan Good’s “Take-Out Food,” which I musicated (good old traditional roadkill). Two fairly slow numbers, bracketing a fairly manic polka (which will sound more like bluegrass because there’s no accordion). Phone call this evening from a family that’s coming to the Arts Center because they want to buy more of my CDs. (Yay!)
The new 2nd Street Public Market in Tillamook—the people who hired somebody other than me to be their executive director—were advertising on craigslist for performers (I guess they’re finally going to be open), and I sent them an e-mail—which they haven’t answered. I guess it’s worth a “please tell me yes or no” phone call. I would like to think I have enough of a reputation in this area by now to be considered a viable draw, but I don’t really know.
Joe
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
A VOLUNTEER GIG...
I may have got myself—finally—a volunteer gig, and it will be fun and exciting. And it’s doing stuff I think I’m good at.
The difference a month makes… When I went to the Bay City Arts Center’s board meeting in February, everybody was energetically and enthusiastically getting everything done—and then some—after the departure of their executive director. By last Monday night, they had all managed to get seriously burned out. But four people were there—three besides me—to tell them, “You guys really need a full-time staff” and “Look, we can do this for free for a while and maybe bring you in some money.” One of the outgrowths of the Failed Economy is there are rather a lot of people with high-end professional skills who can’t get jobs because there aren’t any.
So we asked the board to appoint the girl with the most grant-writing experience as executive director, and the rest of us as her deputies, all with fancy titles (I’ll be “Public Relations Manager”); we’ll divvy up the job of keeping the doors open, bills paid, and phones and e-mail answered—split four ways, it’s not a lot of work for any one person—and work on the organization’s visibility, programs, and bringing more money in. (All this may be premature speculation; as this is written, we’re still waiting on a formal decision by the Arts Center Board. I just have a feeling they’ll do it, because they do need the help and we can provide it.)
I got the public-relations job because of my advertising and lobbying and graphic design background—all of the “Gang of Four” (my term) have experience like that. I’ve designed us business cards, and survey postcards we plan to hand out at Friday night’s open mike (offering a chance at a prize—free tickets to a concert a week from now—in exchange for getting on our mailing list).
We’re doing the same thing I and several others did 25 years ago with Columbia Gorge United, the little non-profit that took on some of the biggest environmental lobbying groups in the country (and some of the highest-placed members of Congress) in the 9-year fight over turning the Gorge into a Federal park. We almost won (some would argue that we did win). We had a big staff (none of them paid), an office building (rent free), the best promotional materials (all donated), and could deliver a dozen trained lobbyists (all volunteer) to Washington, D.C. at the drop of a hat. If you’re playing with the Big Boys, and you’re acting like the Big Boys, nobody ever asks what you’re being paid.
We will play the same game here. As “Brother Bill” Howell, lead singer for the Dodson Drifters (and an attorney) put it, “It’s all performance.”
On other fronts: Blues harp player “Doc” Wagner is in, I think, for the April 24 benefit concert for Val Folkema; he’ll be available for practice after the beginning of April. I don’t have an answer yet from lead guitarist Mike Simpson. Our impromptu quartet—piano, guitar, blues harp and vocals—practiced March 2 for our Monday Night Musical performance March 8; we’ll do the best two of four songs, “Please Release Me” and “Today I Started Loving You Again,” both of which “Doc” and I have played a lot of times before. Practice took only about an hour, and was mostly a matter of getting everybody used to everybody else.
And the open mike at the Arts Center is Friday night, not Saturday (so I’ll miss music at City Hall); the date was changed, but very few people know. That informational gap between decisions and events is one of the things the “Gang of Four” will be fixing. I still need a real job—rather desperately, in fact—but the odds are any real job is going to be relatively mindless grunt work, because I don’t have the armload of college degrees to “prove” I can do what I did for a living for 15 years. This volunteer gig at least will be challenging, and fun.
Joe
The difference a month makes… When I went to the Bay City Arts Center’s board meeting in February, everybody was energetically and enthusiastically getting everything done—and then some—after the departure of their executive director. By last Monday night, they had all managed to get seriously burned out. But four people were there—three besides me—to tell them, “You guys really need a full-time staff” and “Look, we can do this for free for a while and maybe bring you in some money.” One of the outgrowths of the Failed Economy is there are rather a lot of people with high-end professional skills who can’t get jobs because there aren’t any.
So we asked the board to appoint the girl with the most grant-writing experience as executive director, and the rest of us as her deputies, all with fancy titles (I’ll be “Public Relations Manager”); we’ll divvy up the job of keeping the doors open, bills paid, and phones and e-mail answered—split four ways, it’s not a lot of work for any one person—and work on the organization’s visibility, programs, and bringing more money in. (All this may be premature speculation; as this is written, we’re still waiting on a formal decision by the Arts Center Board. I just have a feeling they’ll do it, because they do need the help and we can provide it.)
I got the public-relations job because of my advertising and lobbying and graphic design background—all of the “Gang of Four” (my term) have experience like that. I’ve designed us business cards, and survey postcards we plan to hand out at Friday night’s open mike (offering a chance at a prize—free tickets to a concert a week from now—in exchange for getting on our mailing list).
We’re doing the same thing I and several others did 25 years ago with Columbia Gorge United, the little non-profit that took on some of the biggest environmental lobbying groups in the country (and some of the highest-placed members of Congress) in the 9-year fight over turning the Gorge into a Federal park. We almost won (some would argue that we did win). We had a big staff (none of them paid), an office building (rent free), the best promotional materials (all donated), and could deliver a dozen trained lobbyists (all volunteer) to Washington, D.C. at the drop of a hat. If you’re playing with the Big Boys, and you’re acting like the Big Boys, nobody ever asks what you’re being paid.
We will play the same game here. As “Brother Bill” Howell, lead singer for the Dodson Drifters (and an attorney) put it, “It’s all performance.”
On other fronts: Blues harp player “Doc” Wagner is in, I think, for the April 24 benefit concert for Val Folkema; he’ll be available for practice after the beginning of April. I don’t have an answer yet from lead guitarist Mike Simpson. Our impromptu quartet—piano, guitar, blues harp and vocals—practiced March 2 for our Monday Night Musical performance March 8; we’ll do the best two of four songs, “Please Release Me” and “Today I Started Loving You Again,” both of which “Doc” and I have played a lot of times before. Practice took only about an hour, and was mostly a matter of getting everybody used to everybody else.
And the open mike at the Arts Center is Friday night, not Saturday (so I’ll miss music at City Hall); the date was changed, but very few people know. That informational gap between decisions and events is one of the things the “Gang of Four” will be fixing. I still need a real job—rather desperately, in fact—but the odds are any real job is going to be relatively mindless grunt work, because I don’t have the armload of college degrees to “prove” I can do what I did for a living for 15 years. This volunteer gig at least will be challenging, and fun.
Joe
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