The Grand Illusion...

Art and Money. The grand illusion, and the great mind fuck. We need to stop trying to put them together. Money is made by a lot of things, but art isn't one of them. It's by demand. You wanna chance at making money? Be popular. Of course you can't decide to be popular. You are chosen. Popularity by itself does not even guarantee financial gain. Hence, the mind fuck. Artists should just try to make good art, art from within, truth or anti-truth, make their own way, and acknowledge art is for people. Money may or may never come. That is the true fact.

The idea that good art will bring you money is wrong. We all know a lot of bad art makes huge amounts of money. The idea that hard work will bring you money is wrong. Full time artists and coal miners can attest to this fact. Pure popularity alone will not bring you money, but it helps. The reality is that when the light shown upon an artist making him or her known to the populous, them being accepted and demanded by others increases the artist's worth in the monetary sense. Demand. Build demand and they will come. Pure economics.

Economics tell us that too much supply makes a lower demand and short supply makes a higher demand. If we go further...it's not just the amount of demand but the amount people are willing to pay. That's why some people see subscription service as the future. Small amount to pay but huge amount of people. Verses the other model of high amounts sold to fewer people.

However you wanna play it, it comes down to demand. That is the mysterious quotient, the hidden ingredient, the mystical mumbo-jumbo that is just what it is, like Nature, we don't have any control over it. Some people say you can, but these are the same people who will tell you about it for $39.99. *laughing*

If we as artists can just accept this like we do about many other things in life, we can get back to doing what we do, let the people decide what they want, and finally see who the "man is from behind the curtain".

You'll find it's your Uncle Vito, your niece Petunia, your neighbor Mrs. Feldman, and that damn asshole who almost hit you when you were crossing the street.

Remembrance and Residue...

The next morning from last night's show is always an extra hazy one. A happy hazy one. A slow moving 8mm movie morning that might even run into the afternoon. The strong urge to not really do a damn thing and just be.

So much happens during a show. It's like riding a roller-coaster and then trying to describe it. Hell I don't know what happened, but the next day, when everything is in slow-motion I can remember...and feel the residue. If you are quiet enough you can feel the residue running through your veins and mind. Of course it might be just the magic brownie/cookie I ate the day before, *laughing* but seriously, going deep inside I can replay everything. When I mean everything, I mean the "feeling", not the events so much. Movement is the facilitator of emotion for me. How I move, walk, or jump will push my emotions up or down.

I know you might be thinking "Dude...it's just a show. Some songs...and it wasn't even a big show. Why all the hubbub?" True. Though for me to perform a show I have to get emotionally involved and to connect with whomever is out there or on stage with me. It affects me greatly. Putting out all that energy weakens me a little the next morning, hence my dazey-hazy ramblings and perception. I get a second rush of endorphins the next day. Happy doing what I'm doing, even if I don't know how I'll be a able to go to the grocery store or pay my bills. I am crazy? Most definitely. I am humbled to be a full-time artist and I am grateful.

Record and Release...

Record and release...inhale and exhale...that's how I liken it. I'm beginning the next EP "Paper Sun" today. I'm in no hurry, heck my newest EP "Los Feliz" won't be officially released unto the world until this Sunday...August 23rd. No physical copies will be made. It's a first for me. I'm an old-school music man...I like physical mediums. I don't like it, no matter how much it makes sense financially. I need to bone up on my financial skills though, however feeble they may be, it's about surviving now. So no Limited Edition Vinyl, no CD's in any packaged format. The people have spoken (most of them anyway) and they couldn't care less about it being in their hands, couldn't care less about large high quality graphics, even sound quality. It's about convenience these days. Portability. It used to be radio took care of the music portability. That's dead. The lack of a music loving DJ has turned a once personal and creative endeavour into a spew from the highest bidder. It's down to us. We are our own DJ's.

It is word of mouth now.

"World of Mouth" actually. It is quite exciting in these Wild West Days of the Digital World. The Old Analog World has fallen, and in the little gap between worlds is high adventure! What's gonna happen? Up until even a few months ago I didn't even have a glimmer of what might be. I do now...and it's exhilarating to be at the beginning of a movement!

I must kill my old ideas of "how it used to be". The only thing that will remain from my old way of thinking is to try to make everything I do the best I can. No short cuts. Art is about people, not technology nor accounting techniques. The mechanisms have changed but the art shouldn't. I'll use technology as a "tool", not the maker. The rest is to the wind!

Okay...now I'm gonna warm up my recording gear...yes...it still needs to be warmed up. I am from another world, making my way into the new one...

Record and release...

Ineffable...

Here I am trying to express the inexpressible...all things ineffable. Leaving me tongue-tied. Some words that have vastness of emotion are easy to talk about...Hate for instance. It's simple to me. Perhaps it's my idea of it. I cannot say that I truly hate anyone. The thing that stops hate in its tracks is empathy and understanding. Not matter how vile and depraved someone can be, I see the humanity in them, the confusion, ignorance, and self-loathing that brought about their downfall. If I believed in the Devil I'd feel sorry for him too. What kind of man am I? Is this inescapable empathy for all things one of my many great weaknesses or my saving grace for my other "all too human" shortcomings? Hate is too simple. It simply doesn't exist in me.

But its apparent (I say apparent, because I do not subscribe to this fancy.) reflection, its opposite that so many equate to... is Love. So cliche'. So true. Hence cliche'. No words. So much passion and violence done in its name. Worth living for. Dying for. What can one say without continually waxing poetic over it so much that the meaning is lost and only clever words are left in its wake. Ineffable.

For me there is only Love and no opposite exists for it. For to be truly opposite it must have the same depth, power and scope...and I have found nothing to equal it, opposite or otherwise.

Simon Cowell I'm not...

So...my friend Edwin Decker sent me a message asking if I might fill in for him as a judge for the Viejas Casino Country Band Contest. I have never judged anything before and I'm always game to a new experience, so I told him in no uncertain terms "Hell Yes!".

Now here begins the quandary. I don't wanna be a poison-pen critic who slices up their artists for the mere pleasure and power to do so, at the same time I don't wanna be a milk-toast writer who just white washes everything until it's so bland you can't sink your teeth into anything. To further things, I am an artist. I'm on stage all the time. Stuff goes wrong, even badly wrong. I've walked in these band's shoes a thousand times over. I know. I empathize. That being said, I can criticize because I've been doing this thing for 20 years and I've seen it all. So here goes, the evening progressed as follows:

I met my Judges Cathryn and Richard at the Judges table. I've known Cathryn in the San Diego music scene for quite a few years, but Richard I just met. An old pro like myself, I instantly liked him. The judges table itself is smack-dab in the middle of the room, on a riser 3 feet high with spot lights highlighting every move and expression we make and microphones, for our commentary after each band plays a 30 minute set. Simon Cowell immediately comes to mind. Ugh...the man everyone loves to hate. Well...I ain't no friggin' Simon Cowell. I'm not a pure critic. I am an artist, but please don't let me sound like Paula Abdul! *laughing* We searched around for pens and the first band is announced "Ward James and the Ramblers".

Ward comes up to the mike a proceeds to tell everyone that this band has only been together for four days. He had a "disagreement" with his former band. Okay Ward. We now know. They start playing and it's immediately obvious they haven't been a band long. Very jittery beginnings and endings. The Wramblers are young. A lot younger than Ward. It turns out they were all 18 except Ward. I liked the bass player, he had good energy and a solid bass player. The guitarist was good too, he just needs to season and age and he could be a great guitarist. All of them do. They could be a really good band in time. Just not tonight. Ward has a good voice, especially when he went to the Johnny Cash baritone. He traded solos with his guitarist, which was not a good idea. He seemed to have his mind on other things and was very sporadic and unmusical. Leave the solos to the lead guitarist and sing your butt off and get some crowd rapport going Ward. It will serve you well. The crowd was excited. Mainly because they brought out a bunch of fans, a good idea. There's power in that, and they needed all the support they could get. When it came to myself commentating on their performance I could've easily drew blood with all the criticisms, but why? They knew everything already. They were on stage. They knew how it was supposed to be. So I just accented the positives and told them it takes moxy for a young/four-day band to get up on stage and try to win a contest.

Next up is Justin Newman.

It's just Justin. No band. Wasn't this a "band" contest? This can either bode well for him or not. Solo acts can be a double-edged sword. Truly powerful or disastrous. Well...it was disaster.

Justin decided to use a loop machine and a heavy metal guitar pedal for his acoustic guitar. Always a bad idea. Use an electric guitar for electric guitar sounds. Use an acoustic for acoustic ones. Hello?! Technology isn't that wondrous yet! I couldn't hear his voice because of the metal acoustic-guitar was too loud. He didn't have the guitar chops for that type of guitar sound either, and is this supposed to "Country" music? I know it's good to push the envelope, but it's just not appropriate in this genre. Even the Blues Brothers had to adjust so they wouldn't get anymore glass bottles thrown at them! The next song...more fiasco. This time he changed the song he was gonna play and forgot about the different tuning he needed to do it. So rather than stop and tune, he proceeded to continue completely out of tune and tried to fix it mid-song. Bad idea Justin. Just stop...say "I'm tuning 'cause I care" and start the song over. Better a false start than four minutes of nausea inducing out-of-tuneness. Is that a word? Nope. *smile* Now hears the kicker, when he turned off all his loop and metal effects and just sang "Wicked Game" on his acoustic, he kicked ass. If he would'a just let himself be himself with out all the wiz-band-doo-dads, he might've won this contest. His voice was that good. But no. He didn't. He lost me, lost me, had me, and then lost me again with his final fiasco of a White Stripes tune with the metal guitar. White Stripes? In a country show? With a metal guitar? Really? Okay...

City Limits hit the stage. Slowly. Really slowly. "They don't tour" is what I thought to myself. They took forever setting up. Weekend warriors with some corporate party experience under their belt. I was a bit wary when I saw the singer/guitarist plug in his glowing LED electric guitar. Thankfully there wasn't a fiasco, fireworks, Pantera solos or such. They were a very competent band. The sound guy should've been shot, but it wasn't the band's fault. The sound guy thought it would be a good idea to have the kick drum be the loudest thing in the room and that it should sound like it should be on a Motley Crue album. Yes...sound guy...I'm talking to you! This is a Country band show and its the snare/rim shot you should here prominently, not the kick for rock/house music. Anyway...I digress. This is the thing. You know when you tell someone "Yea...that guy is a really nice guy." ? It isn't so much of a complement as an insult. This band was a nice band. Granted, no fiascos, but they're are walking the fine line of mediocrity. Nice. A nice band. I'm just saying...put some more life into your show guys. Take some chances. Have some fun, not just hitting all the right notes and the right time. There is more to music and performance. The audience liked them, many danced. Of course the audience would like them. They are a good band.

Oh...that reminds me...what's up with not being Southern and singing with a Southern accent? I'm from Memphis. The South. I've lived out here for a long time. Even I don't have a accent anymore. Why is it that this really thick drawl comes out when the song starts? The thing about country music is that it needs to be sincere. Sincerity is what makes a good country song. When I hear someone impersonate a Southern accent, all of the sincerity goes out the window. You use your own voice that you were born with and sing the truth...and the people will listen.

Lastly...Tequila Rose comes out for their set and the final band of the night. They are tight and relaxed. The singer Rachael is a good singer, not amazing, but she used her sass and woman power to her advantage. If you got it, use it I say. No southern accent and doesn't sing with one. More honest I think. The harmonica player is good too. They played "A Thing Called Love" which was the best song of the night. Good blues harmonica and electric slide. Being from Memphis...this helped win me over. Their bass player was rollin' and ramblin', laying down the groove solid and free. Free...yea...this band was actually having fun on stage. This is what's its about! Fun. The audience participation was less than the previous band. Perhaps they didn't really bring many people? But in the end the crowd yelled for them the loudest, and I agreed with them.

Side note - Ed. Ed you brotha-from-a-different-motha! Thank you for the Patrone shot that Colleen (I believe that was here name) gave me last night. Colleen, if that is your name...you're a too-cool-for-school-trouble-maker-lady and I thank you for the welcome you gave me for my foray into the land of Simon-Al-Paula-Freak-Show.

I'm gonna go back to sleep now....