Episode 2: "Shows." Ugh.

Hey there, thanks for tuning in! We're glad you're listening to 66.6, W-FML. We are back on the air, same bad time, same bad place...

Aah, wake up. You are NOT on the air... and you ain't gonna be any time soon.

I promised a journal, sometimes daily, sometimes not, of the life and times of a struggling musician who happens to possess the gift of Grand Delusion in proportions large enough to stand up to Objective Reality and put up a good fight. To continue pressing through with this bulls**t.

I have been booking "shows" for months. Only thing is, unless you are a musician yourself (or a TOTAL newb), you don't realize that the word "show" means that some dive bar somewhere, probably some really undesirable location on some slimy, out-of-the-way street on the Lower East Side, is going to be so courteous as to allow you to haul in your equipment and pull your hair out trying to literally drag in as many of your unwilling friends as possible. They will then extend you the grace of playing for about 30 mins, half of which is burned in setup 'cause the sound guy couldn't set a monitor right if Colombian Guerrilla warriors had machine gun barrels shoved up against his pregnant wife's stomach. But the very best part is, after every single person that YOU tirelessly prodded, begged, heck even threatened to PLEASE come see you 'cause you're a real musician now you promise, has paid $10, yes, ten whole American dollars, and THEN they ALL bought LOTS of beer, in the end netting the establishment hundreds of dollars that they never ever would have made otherwise, you get... nothing.

Nope, not a dime. Not even free beer. I do however find that last part somewhat helpful- in a very bitter and ironic kind of way- in my quest to maintain sobriety on and off stage. Even if I WANT to drink, which of course I do, I am so filled with righteous indignation at this point that I'll be damned if I give these people a minute fraction of my hard-earned cash for the cheap Barton vodka they discreetly poured into the Ketel One bottle. That's right, cheap sleazy venues. You all do it. Every last one of you. I bartended... I KNOW.

My good pal Woody, frontman, guitarist and singer/songwriter for BADA** NYC band the Ne're Do Wells (Woody, you can pay me for that plug later) and I had a discussion on this very topic just this morning. And we determined that it's all a matter of perspective. Sure, you can get pissed about it, we all do after being hoodwinked several times. The first time somebody puts you onstage, for an allotted time that is actually YOURS, you feel like you've made it. Found the Golden Ticket, broken on through to the other side, etc. You feel like you are the one privileged to be occupying the club's stage time and taking up their oxygen. Until one day, you don't. The trick is to wise up and look at it as a free public practice session. Just clench your jaw, set it in your mind that it's ok that you're not "there" yet, and grimly determine that you will be. Accept your circumstance, so that you can formulate a real game-plan to find your way out of it. Hey, like Woody said- it's cheaper than renting a studio to rehearse, and while you're up there sharpening your craft, you're getting a little bit of exposure while veeerrrryyy gradually convincing your friends that you don't suck. Or at least showing them that you suck less and less every time.

And one more thing- your friends will never be your fans. Your mom will, but don't expect anything else. Aunts, cousins, nada. In Luke 4:24, Jesus tells us that no prophet is accepted in his home town. Now- we aspiring minstrels and court jesters are neither healing the sick, casting out demons (often it's the opposite), nor sacrificing ourselves to redeem humanity. But we are attempting a particular sort of miracle. We are, in a sense, trying to transcend our own humanity. Music is a GIFT, it is an actual magical power, and anyone who has ever been reduced to tears, inspired to dance, or incited to riot by a simple invisible sound byte is without grounds for denial of that fact. But your friends and coworkers still see you as that goofy person who just wants to be something so bad that they'll try anything. I had a really hard time with this at first- in the past two and a half years that I've lived in New York, I've decided (proclaimed publicly) that I was going to do or be several different things, none of which I ever really pursued. So I already have a strong built-in contingency of people who don't take me seriously at anything and think I am full of it. Which, in a lot of cases, is a pretty accurate assessment. However, when you do find yourself just naturally sliding into that niche that is to be your home, at least prospectively, you just know it, and no amount of opposition, embarassment or lack of faith on the part of others can do anything to shake that comfort and assurance. There are lots of people to whom I will always be that f**k-up waitress from the pool hall who got drunk and stayed that way, went on really psychotic tangents about God and government, always thought I looked so cool playing really bad pool (song?), lost my temper over everything and was all-but pre-packaged, signed, stamped and destined for failure. And that's ok. It's very important to accept that this is their perception, while cultivating a different image for yourself in the eyes of strangers. Woody and I also discussed our frustrations with the fact that most of the people coming out to our shows right now are our buddies- and we're still forced to doggedly self-promote. As of right now, we don't have a "fan" base. We're not nationally or even locally renowned (well, I speak for myself here- like I said, the Ne're Do Wells are BAD-A**). We have to learn to see ourselves from the outside, almost objectifying ourselves as something of a creative project that we're trying to pitch.
And it's ok... Like I said, do not expect your friends to believe in you at first. You are going to have to prove yourself for quite sometime- I know I sure as heck am. However- if in fact your mother does not
jump on board immediately- THEN you can feel free to get discouraged.