Dear Place,

I own you. This applies regardless of whether I’m walking in, walking out, or just, you know, there…and by there, I mean in you. This is not arrogance. This is not about self aggrandizing. This about taking a long, hard look both inside you, place and inside myself.

For you see, place, I’ve spent a good many years now playing my guitar. I’ve spent at least a couple of decades now singing songs. I’ve spent maybe half that time actually performing out and about to varying sizes of crowds. However, I’ve spent the last year or so out there alone. And as liberating as that’s been in many ways, I feel like I’ve let my own insecurities fuel both my inhibitions and my ability to enjoy my performances. Some time, though, during the last few months, I’ve come the realization that I’m doing something decent. I’m doing something not a lot of people around here are doing, and, most importantly, I’m doing something that I believe is worthwhile. Also, after a few years doing purely acoustic stuff, I feel like my proverbial “chops” are finally starting to take shape, and my actual performance is finally developing the confidence that I’d had, but kept buried beneath the surface.

I’ve had a number of gigs over the last year where I’ve been forced to show up alone, and with not a single familiar face in the crowd. I’m unknown. I’m easily intimidated. But I’m determined, and I’m dedicated, and I’ve literally willed myself through those moments. Some turned out great. Some were okay. Some sucked the big twang. In the end, though, I worked through all of them. I did it, because this is what I want to do, with music, just like everything else, you gotta take the good with bad. Even the crappiest of shows, I can look back on with pride. I remember a few where nobody seemed to really “get” what I was doing, but I gave it my all, and, hopefully, gave a sincere performance.

So, I’m determined to relinquish any reservations I have about playing any place in particular. I’m done with feeling like I don’t belong, and I’m done with feeling like I should be influenced by decor, dress code, lighting or clientele. I have something(s) to say, dammit, and I will say them…I will sing my heart out, and I will play as hard or as soft as I see fit. I will rid myself of any trepidation over taking the stage, because, again, this is what I want, and, while I may not be a virtuoso…I may not be a true poet or a shredder or have a golden voice, I have a place in you, place.

Dear 2012,

How ya doin? Can I get you anything? Are you comfortable? You good? Great, because, if I may speak frankly, given that you have the ability to kick my proverbial arse 1/366th more than normal years (and let’s be clear – I mean “normal” as opposed to “superior”, which is how I see you; not normal as opposed to abnormal), I want to make sure all of your needs are met. I kind of half feel that I didn’t take care of 2011 the way she deserved to be taken care of, and you know how that ends up: a year of confused emotions and mixed results. I don’t want that to happen again. I want to make sure that you know I’m here for you. OK? Good.

That being said, I do feel the need clarify a few things. Sometimes I often if 2011 missed the mark simply because I didn’t communicate my feelings well enough. She was confused. She’s not a mind reader, after all, and neither are you. So, I put together a few bullet points that will hopefully take some of the guesswork out of this long, lovely leap year for you:

1. Giving me more work without giving me a raise is not a promotion.
2. Extra busboys at the places I work don’t count toward a “larger audience”.
3. Playing a Bread song at a funeral doesn’t count as expanding my musical horizons.
4. Giving me more and crappier work without a raise is not a promotion.
5. That one lady…and you know who I’m talking about…is no Salma Hayek.
6. The Pacific Ocean, while certainly much, much larger than any place I’ve played thus far, isn’t something I’d actually consider a venue (though, truth be told, the seagulls were extremely supportive).

I know, I know…you see that, and you think I’m about to ask you for that which you could never provide – fame, fortune, rock superstardom and all that. Not so. In fact, my list of requests for you, 2012, are pretty simple:

1. Stay healthy (which includes the entire family, of course).
2. Stay gainfully employed (even if that means another “promotion”).
3. Continue writing and performing music in some semi-satisfying capacity.

I know, I know – it’s better to give than receive, 2012. Where are my manners? Here I am telling you what I want, but what about you, 2012? What am I willing to do for you? I know you hold all the cards. What you, 2012, bring for me, is entirely up to you, but, just to let you know that I’m not all take and no give (a la the subject of the 1981 Rick Springfield classic, “I’ve Done Everything for You”), here’s what I’m willing to do for you, 2012:

1. I will work hard at my job that pays the bills, whatever that is.
2. I will release a new CD this year. In fact, I’ve written most of the songs, and I have an album title and cover concept already.
3. I will pursue new online avenues of promotion. I’m looking into starting some StreamJam performances. World, EMAIL ME if you might be interested in seeing this.
4. I will work harder to promote my appearances at the venue that’s supported me most, the Java Jean Bar.
5. I will not spend another dime on gear this year (should actual gig revenue appear, those funds don’t count).
6. I will play at least one benefit.

So, 2012, whaddya say? I mean, let’s not fool ourselves. It’s already mid-January. I just turned 40. Neither of us is getting any younger. Can we do this?

Folks – I’m happy to say that I’m going to be continuing my run at my favorite venue, Java Jean Bar for 2012. I’ll be there the FIRST SATURDAY OF EVERY MONTH. In addition, I’ll be playing on ST. PATRICK’S DAY and the Saturday before HALLOWEEN!

My next show, on February 4th is a very special show. I’ll be performing as my alter ego, Lee Stanley, performing with my brother, Stan Stanley, as part of the unstoppable acoustic duo, The Flat Stanleys. This is doubly special, as this is also Stan’s big birthday bash, so, it’s certainly not something to be missed.

The entire 2012 JJB Schedule is:

I’m also pushing for some other new venues in 2012. I’ll be at Harvey’s Steakhouse in Huntington Beach as part of the Acoustic Brew series on January 26th, and look for many more such endeavors as the year develops!

Folks – I’ve booked quite a few shows lately, including a few new venues. You can always see what I’ve got coming up by checking the Shows Page, but here’s a quick rundown (all shows are free unless otherwise specified):

• Thursday, October 13th 12:00PM – Downtown Anaheim Farmer’s Market
• Sunday, October 16th 6:00PM – Cabrillo Playhouse ($5 recommended donation)
• Saturday, October 22nd 8:00PM – The Neighborhood Cup
• Thursday, November 3rd 9:00PM – Nadine’s Irish Mist
• Saturday, November 5th 7:30PM – Java Jean Bar
• Tuesday, November 29th 7:00PM – Matt Denny’s Ale House
• Saturday, December 3rd 7:30PM – Java Jean Bar

Each of the venues above is linked to the venue website, where you can find info, addresses, etc.

I’m still working on adding some other things in the coming months, so check the Shows Page often for updates. Hope to see you out at a show soon!

Dear Dan,

You’re probably wondering how I even know you are, right? After all, while you are HUGE in Canada, and have released 3 of the best CDs ever created, you still are virtually unknown in these parts. Well, it was actually an odd stroke of luck that I happened upon you. Last fall, I was researching DSLR cameras to give to my wife for Christmas. In doing so, I happened upon this video. Apparently, it was shot with the same camera I ultimately gave my wife for Christmas. However, that song, and, maybe even more, that live performance, really stuck with me.

I, almost immediately, downloaded (legally) the 2 CDs you’d released to that point. They were on constant rotation in my car, on my runs and in my head when I wasn’t listening to them. They inspired me as a musician and a songwriter to step up my game, and they made me happy as a music fan that, for the first time in years, someone was making not good, but great music. Finding inspiration in the music of others is something that’s been very hard for me to come by for the last decade or so, so, when I find it, I truly cherish it.

It was listening to “Nice, Nice, Very Nice” (which by the way, it didn’t hurt that you quoted far and away my favorite author for the title of this record) that inspired me to record my latest CD. I’m not going to even link it here, because I don’t want to seem gratuitous – that’s not what this is about. I also added a couple of your songs to my local coffeehouse sets. I can remember when I was learning the aforementioned “Basket”. I literally couldn’t get it through it the first few times I played it without crying. It moved me immensely to hear you sing the words, but to sing them myself was something I actually had to work up to. My goal in gigging is firstly to play songs that I write, but a close second is to promote artists that are carrying the torch that I strive to carry.

I also play the song “Robots“. I don’t know who could hear that song and not love it. My experience is that most people do, even when it’s delivered by a lesser talent such as myself. And that kind of brings me to the main point of this letter, Dan…

I performed “Robots” at one of my shows that was attended by my 16 year old stepson. He immediately fell in love with the song. He asked me the chords so he could play it on guitar. He used it as background music for a video project for one of his science classes. He’s played it for his friends. My stepson and I, we share a love for music, but there’s not a ton of overlap in the artists and songs that we like, but that song struck a chord (no pun intended) with both of us. When I recorded my homegrown CD recently, his first question was, “Did you put ‘Robots’ on it?” (I wouldn’t dare, FYI).

So, I’d been watching your website for tour dates, and was thrilled to see that you were not only coming to Orange County, but a small venue in Santa Ana that is pretty close to my house. Ironically (I guess – Alanis Morissette has me all confused about how to use that word), I had a gig that night, so couldn’t go. However, just a few days before the show the venue rescheduled me to a different night, and I was still able to get tickets. My wife was out of town with my other 2 kids. I don’t believe you have kids, let alone teenagers, but you’re going to have to trust me on this: when I saw my stepson’s eyes light up when I told him I got tickets to see you, that was more than worth the price of admission alone.

Off to the show we went. Dan, you and your band were spectacular. As much as I truly love your records, the live performance was positively unbelievable. The dynamics and energy were unbelievable. There were several moments where I had to stop tapping my foot or hand, because the emotion got the best of me, and I tensed up. Both me and my stepson were positively blown away. The new record is a lot different than “Nice…”, and I feel like seeing you perform songs from it live, really drove it home for me. It’s epic. It’s wonderful. Bottom line, though, is that it would be so easy for you to “phone it in” at a place like this – a small venue where you, in my opinion, were grossly under appreciated, but you killed it. You nailed it. You rocked the taco.

I started thinking about what you were doing in Canada before you came here. From what I’ve read, you’ve been on a headline tour of fairly large venues, yet, here you were in Orange County performing as an opening act in a 960 seat venue. For fans such as us, this is a tremendous opportunity, but it’s not at all lost on me how much you care about building an American audience. I hope it works. After what I experienced, I feel like it must. I don’t know how anyone in that crowd (most of whom, criminally, seemed to not know who you were) could have left without feeling compelled to seek out your music. I hope they do. I hope you come back as a headliner.

Then again, it’s Orange County. I wrote on your “wall” before the show requesting that you play “Fabulous“, and, while it’s one of my favorite songs, I do understand why you didn’t – after all, by doing that, you’d have been indicting a large portion of those who stood before you. All in all, though, it was a wonderful show, and a wonderful memory for me and my stepson. BTW – I would have loved to get a picture, but you seemed to be constantly back and forth from backstage after the show, and it felt awkward. If you play again nearby – that would be the icing on the cake.

Thanks for keeping it real, and I will continue to spread the word about what you’re doing.

Your buddy,
Chris

Dear Max Bloom’s,

I’d like to take a moment to tell you how great you are. You are, and this is no exaggeration, the coolest coffee shop I’ve ever visited. The decor, the atmosphere, the coffee, the food and the staff are all top notch. Your prices are actually, in my opinion, unreasonably low. It’s kind of surprising to me that you aren’t busy all the time. You are everything that is right with coffee shops.

As a performer, I’ve always loved taking your stage. It’s small, but perfect for a solo performer, such as myself. The room acoustics are wonderful. The crowds I have experienced have been small, but extremely attentive and appreciative. Even though I do bring a small PA, I love the sound that I can hear my actual voice and guitar in the mix. I feel like, for all of these reasons, I actually produce a better performance when I play there than I do at other venues that require more volume.

I dunno, Max. You’re just really, really cool.

I have to confess, though, that I’m concerned for your future. I look at a place so cool as you, and, while I wonder why more people are not flocking to it, that doesn’t change the fact that the aren’t. To say you’re off the beaten path is a bit of stretch. After all, you back up to a parking lot shared with many other, much more crowded establishments. I wish I had some sage advice for you here, Max, because it’s very clear to me that so much love and attention to detail went into your development, it really is a crying shame that more people don’t know about you. This may be somewhat selfishly motivated, but I wonder if adding wine to the menu might help your bottom line. I wish I had an answer.

So, anyway, despite my love for you, I’m afraid I’m going to have to call you out on something…

This past Saturday when I was on your stage, sometime around 8:40 (my show ran from 7:30-9:30), a gentleman person who called himself Larry came through the door and ordered a coffee. I never actually saw him with coffee after that, which strikes me as a bit odd, but, hey – if dude wants to order coffee then walk away from the counter, that’s his business. Actually, it’s a kind of hilarious thing to do – kind of like this sketch from the ill-fated Dana Carvey Show.

The problem is, after he ordered his coffee that he didn’t drink, he proceeded to walk to the side of the stage, pick up your “house guitar”, which was woefully out of tune, and begin playing…right next to the stage. He was doing his own little concert which, as far as I can tell, consisted of strumming random combinations of G, C and D out of tune and out of time. He didn’t stop there, though. He went on to begin shouting out the chords at me, in an effort to get me to play along with him. At one point, he began insisting that I remove my capo, because, “that bridge thingy you got on the neck ain’t gonna work.”

Max, I’m a professional. Well, when I play your place, I’m not a professional in the literal sense, because I believe in order for a service to be considered truly professional, it requires some sort of compensation. What I mean is that I conduct myself in a professional manner, and I consider musical performances to be a profession of mine (even if they are not what most would consider my “primary” profession). Since I did not know this man, and he clearly seemed entitled to do whatever the hell he pleased, I was reluctant to confront him. For all I know, he could be a great benefactor of yours, or, at the very least, a regular and very good customer. Given my desire to see a coffee shop so cool as you succeed, I was hamstrung; forced to find some way to muddle through without upsetting him.

This nonsense continued for the 40 minutes remaining in the gig. That was probably the 40 longest minutes of my life, excluding the 40 minutes leading up to my first rectal exam (resulting in eerily similar ends). I did my best to indulge this guy. I chose songs of mine that rely heavily on G, D and C chords, in hopes that he’s be satisfied playing along with me. How foolish of me. It was rather humiliating.

40 minutes this went on, Max, and you did nothing. You said nothing. Upon parting, as I was thanking your staff for their trouble and extending my apologies for not bringing a larger group, nothing was said of the interruption. From this I can only draw one conclusion: that this has happened before and will, most likely, happen again. For this sort of thing to go on for nearly half of the show without you flinching, Max, what else is there to think?

It saddens me to say, Max, but we need a break. If I’m in the neighborhood, I will still stop by for your good and ridiculously cheap coffee. I will continue to tell my friends about the coolest coffee shop I know. I will root for you in a manner that I seldom root for business, because you’re that unique and real. But I can’t perform. At least not for a pretty good while. I just can’t do it.

I’ll be the first to criticize my abilities and musicianship. It’s very easy for me to find areas where there is sizeable room for improvement. I don’t now, nor did I ever think myself above you Max, but dammit, I’m good enough that I shouldn’t have to deal with that horseshit. You should have stepped up, Max. You should have stepped in. You dropped the ball.

Dear America’s Got Talent,

We have a problem. I have a bone to pick with you. A big, splintery bone.

Let me start by saying that I’ve spent the last few seasons overlooking your most obvious flaw: that you’re a “talent” competition who’s format mirrors that of about 20 other programs. I overlooked that for two main reasons. Firstly, the generic “talent” attribute of the show translated into a pretty wide variety of acts, especially in the early phases. Though it isn’t true for all acts, there were some acts that to me seemed very “real”. I loved the fact that there are people “dedicated to bringing juggling into the 21st century”, for example. The other, more convincing, reason for me to watch you was that my 10 year old son loves you, and I have truly enjoyed all the conversations that we’ve had surrounding the show. I really enjoyed watching him analyze each of the acts performances, speculate about their chances of going through and get excited when his favorite acts advanced. I know that bonding over a television show may not be something most parents view as good parenting, but you’ll just have to take my word for it when I say that AGT created some special moments for us.

Then, during one of the montages during the season finale, I saw a clip of something I guess I missed earlier in the season. It’s available using this link, in case you need your memory refreshed. If you’re too busy getting ready for next season, I’ll give you a quick breakdown of what happened here:

Dani Shay, a female guitarist/singer/songwriter performed an original song that she wrote. At some point, she got really nervous and almost had to stop. She either pushed through or called it a day (I can’t honestly remember), but then was evaluated by the judges who seemed completely flabbergasted over the notion of someone doing any original song. In fact, here are a couple of quotes from your esteemed judges, followed by my response to them, which I’m hoping you can pass along:

Nobody sings original material…it’s not a writing contest. She should compete and do what we do on the show.
-Howie Mandel

True, Howie. It’s not a writing contest. It’s also not a belly-flopping contest, a dance contest, a fire-eating contest, a sword-swallowing contest, a gymnastics contest…you get the point. It’s a talent contest. The things she was doing – writing a song, singing and playing guitar – are all things that require talent. It’s not like she came out onstage and started writing. And “do what we do on the show”?? You can’t be freaking serious. How many times have you applauded other acts for being “original” or “creative” or “unlike anything I’ve seen”?

To judge you properly, we really need you to sing a song that we all know
-Sharon Osbourne

Oh, okay, Sharon. That makes sense. Your job of picking the acts that the producers tell you to pick is simply too difficult if someone performs an original song. I’m just curious why this only applies to musicians, though. I mean, when the Kinetic King started doing crazy things with tongue depressors, why was he not admonished and told to “stick to dominoes”? When Professor Splash “dove” into 8 inches of water, why was he not told to “be skinny, like other people you see in bathing suits on TV”? When that Russian Bar act performed, why were they not told to use a “regular balance beam”, because you, as judges, simply couldn’t process the concept of a bendy, bouncy balance beam that just sat on two dudes shoulders.

And while we’re on the subject, Sharon, what did Ozzy (the whole reason that anybody even knows who the heck you are) think of that comment? I mean, really, Sharon – it actually blows my mind that you are even able to tolerate being married to someone that not only writes their own songs, but fronted one of the most influential and groundbreaking bands in the history of music. When he was writing War Pigs, did you explain that it’s originality confused you and beg him to “play some Elvis tunes”?? No wonder he’s struggled with substance abuse.

So, back to you, AGT…

Infuriated over this seemingly categorical statement that you despise originality, I started to look back over your “winners”. In the history of the show, all but one of your winners has been a singer – a singer of songs that they did not write. This, in my eyes, makes you, by and large, a cover-singing competition. Hmmmm…I can’t help but think that seems familiar – a cover singing competition where America votes and has 3 judges, one of whom is a snarky British dude…

The one time the winner wasn’t a singer, it was a “comedian” – a ventriloquist to be specific. I didn’t watch that season, but I would imagine that he probably came out and did something really creative and edgy, and it confused the judges so they told him to regroup and come back playing with puppets. The idea of having a comedian on the show is kid of a joke, given the watered-down nature of network television, but it’s almost like you go out of your way to find the least interest acts. The chick that went the farthest in this genre this year did nothing but impressions. I heard she planned on doing this hilarious bit about menstruation, but was told to “Rich Little it up.”

I’m not saying it doesn’t take talent to sing other people’s songs well. However, the whole premise of your show is that it’s a sort of anything-goes talent competition…err…the premise you promote, anyway. I want to be clear that, in the case of Dani Shay, if you’d just told her that her song was bad, that would have been fine. She also messed up, so letting her go based upon that would have been acceptable as well. Instead, though, via your “judges”, you made a real statement about your mission here: to join the fight against creativity and originality that the networks have been waging for years now. I know it was silly of me to expect otherwise. However, there’s a moment where the judges get all serious when talking to Dani Shay, and the following dialog takes place:

Piers:
We think you’ve got a real chance, but not doing your own stuff. It’s not gonna happen.

Sharon:
To judge you properly, we really need you to sing a song that we all know. We need to hear your interpretation of a well-known song. Are you willing to do that?

They’re, in essence, saying, “Are you willing to give up on your dream to follow your dream?” It’s sad. It’s criminal. Dani Shay should have known that she had no real chance of winning that contest. She could have salvaged her integrity and probably done more to further her career by flipping the judges off, but she didn’t. And you, AGT – you showed the world, once again, that in order to succeed, you must conform. For that, I hate you.

Peace,
CF

I was thinking today about the kind of stuff I’ve been putting “out there” lately – this week, specifically. A lot of it has been negative. I’ve posted a number of “stories” on “social media outlets” talking about bad things that have happened to me this week. I’ve had gigs rescheduled to less desirable times. I’ve had gigs completely cancelled. I’ve been snubbed by other musicians. In part, I’ve tried to make these things sound funny. I’ve told the stories as jokes or points of interest – in part. The other part is just me complaining and feeling sorry for myself, which is ridiculous.

It’s also doesn’t really paint a clear picture of what really happened. For example, what I shared about my show in Downtown Anaheim on Thursday was that I got “bumped” from lunchtime slot and that I got “big-timed” by a steel drum player. What I didn’t share was that the weather was absolutely beautiful, I was extremely happy with my performance, I had a relatively small, but very supportive and attentive audience, and I was treated very graciously by the Downtown Anaheim staff that booked me (including excessive apologies and a gift certificate for my trouble).

One of the reasons why I didn’t blast those bits of positivity out there is because there’s no way for me to do that while making myself sound clever or funny. This is kind of what the Facebook generation does to people (not all people, but a-holes like myself…and I know I’m not alone). In my song Down the Road, I sing, “Everybody’s looking for a spark / Something to prove to everybody else they are so smart.” That’s exactly what I’m talking about. Facebook has become for many, a vehicle for this sort of thing much more than a real means of communication. I recognize that it’s hypocritical of me to write/sing lines that indict that behavior, meanwhile, I’ve been doing the same thing all along. Really, though, isn’t that the American way?

I wish I could sit here and tell you that I’m going to stop. I don’t know why I do it, but I’m afraid it will continue. It really does bother me that I can’t read through others Facebook or Twitter posts without my initial thought while reading every single one of them being, “What kind of snarky, but brilliant remark can I make here that will impress everyone else reading it?” This is just all part of my ongoing self-review that started about 5 years ago. I’m still in the information gathering phase. I have initial reactions to some of this stuff, but I don’t want to do anything knee-jerk. I feel that I’m better off waiting until all of the data is in, before I draw any conclusions.

And that’s not the point of this post, anyway…

The real reason for this post is to say that I’m going to make a concerted effort to be less negative about the happenings that occur related to my music career (see…I didn’t put “career” in quotes…baby steps). It’s very easy, particularly when you want something very badly, and even more so when you truly work very hard at it, to start drinking your own kool-aid. When you put in hours and hours, you can fall into the trap of starting to think that you’re somehow owed something for all of your hard work. It’s crazy to think that way.

There’s a couple of facets to this. First off – nobody told me to start making music. Certainly nobody said anything to me that would indicate that if I started doing it then I would get something from them in return. I’ve had periods of time where I’ve felt like this was something I had to do, and that’s why it was unfair. I had some psychological need to write and perform, and it was unfair that I am somehow programmed that way, but do not have the wherewithall to achieve any real success. I’ve occasionally felt like I was given just enough talent do it, but not do it well.

Well, this is crap. First off, the desire to create music is not an affliction. To even think for a second that whatever pain I’ve experienced in this realm comes anywhere close to the positives is absurd. If I were to make a list of all of the difficult times I’ve had in my adult life (and I don’t mean to make it sound like I’ve had it rough – I haven’t – but we all have things that happen to us) then try to quantify the emotional relief creating music provided, I could take any one item on that list and it would dwarf my life’s sum of music-related hardships (because, frankly, there have only been speed bumps and inconveniences).

Secondly, success in music depends on a lot more people than just the musician, and, in most cases, the goals of the other folks involved vary wildly from the musician’s. Take me, for example (since this is my website, after all). Right now, I would define my success as one of the two things (or both) happening:

• I have regular decent-sized crowds at my shows
• I have regular decent-paying gigs

For the first thing to happen, I need help from venue-goer. For the second thing to happen, I need help from the venue owner/manager/booking agent. The problem is that, frankly, the Orange County music scene is tough on original artists. Forget about the quality of my music (I’ll get to that in a second), by focusing on originals, you’re severely restricting your audience. So, that kind of makes getting decent-sized crowds difficult. As for pay, well, you kind of can’t blame the club owner for wanting to make a dime. So without one, it’s hard to get the other, right? Different goals. My goal is to play my songs to millions of people and make a fortune doing it my way. The general Orange County public’s goal, apparently, is to listen to a bunch of middle-aged white guys play shitty blues or classic rock covers (ok, that was negative…it’s a work in progress). The bar owner wants to put butts on the stools. My goals seem to be in direct conflict with theirs.

As for the quality of my music… I’m constantly asking myself, “Am I just not any good?” It’s tough to answer that question. I know that I work really hard on all three of the following: being a better songwriter, being a better guitar player and being a better singer. I know that I continually am improving (even at my ripe age) at all three. I’m also regularly re-evaluating style, trying new things, etc, etc. The question, though, is whether not I can put together a truly compelling performance; a combination of songwriting and delivering that commands attention in a way that an original artist must to achieve success in this environment. I’m pretty sure I’m not there yet, but I can get my head around the concept, and it doesn’t seem unachievable, so I’ll press on.

That being said, I’m not sure that quality even matters. There are hundreds or thousands of better guitarists around here than me, even in the non-professional realm. There are probably nearly as many that are better singers. Songwriters? That’s harder to answer, because you just don’t see them. That’s kind of my point here. Quality certainly does matter to me, but I’m not sure it factors into success. After all, if quality of songs and performance was enough to get great gigs around here, why don’t I see anyone doing it?

Crap – I got off topic again (sort of)…that wasn’t my point either…

My point is that, I love to write, play and perform. Just doing it in my house brings me so much pleasure. I’m so very fortunate to have the opportunities I’ve had to share my music with others. The folks at Downtown Anaheim and, especially, Michelle of Java Jean Bar have been so good to me, and offered so much support. I shouldn’t be making myself out to be the target of some sort of persecution. I’ve had a wonderful time doing this for the last couple of years. Of course, I still strive for greater successes, but the 2 goals I listed above are both secondary to my primary focus, which is writing and performing songs that I think are good, that I’m happy with. I know I’m a weirdo, but I’m not alone. If I keep it up, maybe a few more weirdos will hear them and things will start to roll. Otherwise, I’m going to make a real effort to relish that I can even do this at all.

I’m wondering what other people think about this. Let me state up front that this is not something I’m considering, nor is it something I ever have or ever would consider (which probably tips my hand a bit as to how I feel about it, but I didn’t want you to start reading with the mind set that I was actually giving this consideration).

It seems like forever since I’ve been excited by a mainstream / major label artist. I’m not exaggerating when I say that I truly can’t remember who the last one was. That doesn’t mean I haven’t enjoyed some songs here and there or even a smattering of albums, but, when I think about what really excites or engages me in music, I honestly can’t even recall when the last time that happened by way of a major record label. I’m seriously thinking it might have been Guns n Roses.

As a result, I’ve spent a lot of time canvasing indie sites, indie record stores and the local music scene for new music. There’s also some really great stuff coming from some smaller labels as well, but when I find an artist that is producing great music completely independent of a support infrastructure outside of what they’ve put together themselves, it really inspires me. What it really does for me is that it shows me that great music can be created by an individual, for all intents and purposes, on their own. In my mind, that translates to this simple message: I’m only limited by my own creativity, ability and patience (more about that later). I’m getting a bit off topic, but consider that sort of backstory.

Between the financial hardships the record companies are allegedly suffering (a topic for another day) and the new distribution vehicles easily accessible to artists (both those of a digital and physical nature), the number of artists recording and distributing their music on their own has exploded. This is not a bad thing. In fact, the more success artists have doing this, the better. The result is a better product (this is subjective, of course, but I’m taking the artist’s perspective here – since they maintain complete creative control, the music, good or bad, is more purely their art than it would be otherwise), lower prices (in most cases, and more importantly, a much greater percentage ends up in the artists hands) and greater accessibility to the music (this is hit or miss, but in most cases, artists will release material when they feel like it, as it’s being produced, etc.) and the artist (depends on the artist, of course, but there are no rules prohibiting him or her from interacting with the public). Again, this is backstory. This isn’t intended to be a “record companies suck” piece (they do).

All of this is great, of course, but anytime there’s a growing market of anything, there’s usually a number of submarkets that develop in hopes of profiting from that market. When it comes to independent musicians, there are literally hundreds (if not thousands) of organizations out there set up to take money from them, or profit otherwise from the fruits of their labors. From my experience, there a few flavors of sites out there that do this. One flavor charges musicians for access to gig opportunities. Another flavor charges for reviews and/or airplay consideration. I had mentioned before that I once paid $20 for a review from one of the founding members of Wang Chung – that’s the type of thing I’m talking about (for the record, I knew going in that this was lame, but I thought it would be funny to have a “Wang Chung” quote in my press kit). The third flavor (and the one that I want to talk about in this post) collects money for artists from their fans/friends/family to fund their music projects (recording, tours or otherwise).

At first, there really wasn’t a site (of which I’m aware) that was dedicated to collecting funds for recording projects. However, there was a site or two designed for entrepreneurs that a number of musicians used to that same purpose. I’m not bashing these entrepreneur-geared sites. The notion of collecting funding to start a business and offering investors a return based on the success of the business is something that, to me, makes sense. However, what I saw indie recording artists doing was simply using this site to raise money for their recording projects with no promise of shared profits after the fact. Of course, some one (actually probably a number of people) saw this and created a site called Pledge Music for musicians to use to take donations from their fans. Ack.

Now, some artists that I truly admire for their songs have used this or other similar services. I have yet to hear an artist that I follow speak out against it. I have heard a couple say things along the line of, “It’s not my thing.” Of course, my music (non) career being what it is, it’s easy for me say that it’s baloney…but, well, it’s baloney. I’m not even going to get into the 15% they take off of the top. No wait – yes I am. In fact, let’s start there. First off, if you’re going to ask your fans to fund your recording projects, don’t be so lazy. If you think you need 10K to get your project off the ground, you’re taking $1500 more from your fans than you actually need, because YOU want the convenience of a website that does it all for you. But let’s move past that, because, as insidious as I think that is, it’s actually a lesser issue.

The big issue is that you’re asking your fans to invest in something with no promise or hope of return. Don’t tell me that they get the music in return, because, after the fact, everyone gets the music, and for the same price, without having to make donations ahead of time. You want people to fund your art before it’s produced and, effectively get nothing in return? On what planet does that even make sense?

And for those of you who aren’t exactly up to speed on what it’s involved in recording and distributing and album/CD, let’s talk numbers for a little bit (bear with me).

The “computer age” has produced a great number of affordable, yet great products for home recording. There is software available for free that can handle most basic used-to-be-studio operations. I’m not going to include the computer in the cost of home recording. If you didn’t already have a computer, your slack-ass wouldn’t be using a website to bilk your fans. If you’re frugal, and shop used, you can get a decent multipurpose condenser mic, a serviceable preamp and an audio interface for your computer all for under $500. I’m not exaggerating when I say that, with some trial and error, you can get truly quality sound with that. I’m not going to pretend that $500 is nothing, but, back in the day, I scrimped and saved $500 to buy a 4-track cassette recorder. What you get for that price today is astounding. So, for the purposes of this discussion, I’m going to assume that most indie artists either already have something serviceable here, or know someone that would let them use it. If you’re doing full-band stuff with live drums, you’ll need a couple more mics, but I’d presume these could be borrowed.

So, out of the gate, you should need nothing to do the original recording. You’ll just have to take my word on this. I recorded my CD, Awkward Silences without having to out a penny (I’m talking about the recording process). Now, I know that CD is what I’d consider a “good demo”, and not necessarily pro quality. There are 2 main reasons for that. The first is room treatment. I don’t have a room that is treated for sound at all in my house. I guess I could, but I don’t. This limits what I’m able to do with mic placement (everything has to be mic’d closely). The second is the aforementioned patience. I don’t know why, but when something’s hanging over my head (like the completion of an album) I rush things. This applies to both the performance and the recording technique. You’ll just have to take me at my word here. Room issues aside, my computer-studio can produce a quality-sounding CD if enough time is allocated, and I’m not talking about time above and beyond what would be considered reasonable in a “real” studio.

After recording my CD, and mixing it myself, I did ship it off to be “professionally” mastered. I’m not going to get into what mastering is or does, but let’s just say that I didn’t feel confident that I could do a good job myself. It might be fair to say that I should have paid to have it mixed, too, but I’m going to stick to what I said above: that’s more an issue of time and patience than ability. I think that getting a decent mix is something that most good musicians could do, given enough time. The cost of the mastering was $189. So – in terms of the cost of an album here, we’re at a grand total of $189. After that, I had red-book ready digital tracks that I could distribute however I please. I think went to a CD manufacturer, and I ordered 100 CDs, full color, in full-color jackets, shrink wrapped. The package included complete digital distribution on iTunes, Amazon, Spotify and physical distro on CDBaby. The cost for those 100 CDs was about $300. So, let’s just round up, and say that my total cost for producing a finished product w/ 100 physical CDs (and unlimited digital CDs) was around $500. Had I ordered more CDs, the per-unit cost might go down dramatically (1000 CDs would have been $700), but this is a good baseline – or at least a good worst case scenario.

So, let’s say it’s $5 / physical CD (of course any additional CDs beyond the first 100 effectively cost $3 / CD), with unlimited digital distribution. Assuming that half of the distribution I’ll actually end up with is digital, that drives the price per “CD” sold down to, let’s say $3 (it wouldn’t be that much, but the digital distribution does cost something). But I think it’s safe to say, that for those artists participating in “fund my CD” pledge drives, their per-CD cost is most likely not going to be more than $3. And remember – that’s not just the production cost; that’s the cost of producing the entire CD, and the per-unit costs actually go down as the number produced goes up.

I’ve always been of the opinion that fans support artists by buying CDs and attending shows. It’s not hard to cover the $3 cost. In fact, if you sell the CDs for $9 (which I do not consider unreasonable), you can cover the cost of 3 of them for each one sold. Even in my world I can probably recoup the costs after the fact. In fact, I’m on track to do that even after using a bunch of CDs for press kits (to get more gigs) and sending several out to friends.

I guess my main point is this: if you’re frugal, you can make a quality recording for very little money. You can distribute it at a reasonable price, give some away to your friends and still come out ahead. I know this is different if you make your living doing this. I know it’s not enough for everyone to simply break even or come out a tiny bit ahead. However, when you project my numbers to a larger scale, I think…actually I know it still works out. If you have a fanbase so big that you could actually collect several thousand dollars (the Pledge Music campaigns I’ve seen have been in the $1500-$5000 range), then you have WAY more people that would buy your CDs than I do, so what are you doing?

But really, this goes beyond the numbers. If you don’t believe in your art enough to either a) invest your own money in producing it or b) take the time that would be required to economize and still produce a decent product, then how in the world can you expect someone else to invest in you? It just doesn’t make sense.

Then again, maybe this is all just sour grapes, because I keep a day job to fund my endeavors.

This a question that I’ve been asked at each of the last several gigs I have played, and, until now, I have been unable to answer that. I’ve been sort of booking my shows one at a time. Finish one, book one, finish one, book one, and so forth. However, since that makes it difficult for people to actually plan to come to a show, I’ve decided to stop this nonsense. So, starting September 3, I will be playing the first Saturday of every month at the Java Jean Bar in Anaheim Hills. That should be easy enough to remember, right?

People often ask me, “Chris, why do you keep playing Java Jean Bar – don’t you find the remarkably fashionable clothing a distraction to your listeners?”, to which I say, “Good point”, but…

You must understand that it’s not at all uncommon for someone to pee their pants at my shows. It happens all the time for a variety of reasons. Sometimes it’s from laughing too hard. Sometimes it’s because I might not take a break, and they don’t want to miss anything. Sometimes it’s because my shows are so relaxed that people get so comfortable that they just “let it go.” When this happens, what better place to be than in a room full of clean, dry, fabulous pants? Granted, there are times, during a song, when I look around and start envisioning myself in the clothing that surrounds me…this then leads to series of daydreams involving leashed tigers and supermodels. Suffice it to say, I have to work to stay focused for the benefit of the performance.

Anyway – I’m there at JJB on the first Saturday of each month.

I’ve also been asked where else I play or where else I am playing. This is something I’m working on. Unfortunately, as I mentioned in a prior post, the unknown singer/songwriter schtick can be a tough sell. JJB is one of the few places that really supports original music. I did a blast of press kits recently, including CDs to a number of local venues, but that stuff generally gets cast aside. The cold, hard truth is, the best way to get gigs is to visit the establishments face-to-face and continue to followup (via phone or in person). The idea that you have to somehow be pushy is difficult for me to get my head around. However, in my experience, most people that handle the bookings do not really deal in email. It kind of surprises (read:disappoints) me, but that’s how it is. So, if you’re an OC local, and you have a place where you think I’d fit in – please let me know. If you have a contact, or would be willing to speak to someone on my behalf, even better – contact me, and I will send you a CD with which to do my bidding. Otherwise, I’ll get up the gumption to get out there soon.