On the road again (NOT!)

Those that know me best know I play music.

Like every other white guy in the Western world, I play guitar.

Unlike every other white guy in the Western world, I will rip your head off, and you will absolutely love it.

Which makes it quite a valid question to pose, when old friends from the old days re-enter my life, and ask "What's with all this art?"

Don't get me wrong, I have no pretension as an 'artiste'.

I'm fully aware that vectorgraph images of fashion designers will never be considered true art.

And that's the way I like it!

But I have to admit, whereas every waking moment of my life five years ago was playing/writing/promoting/loving music, nowadays I'm kinda obsessed with seeing my vision of retro muscle car soft toys come into being.

So back to the question- why?

Once upon a time, musical culture was dictated from suburban bedrooms, by people who still lived at home, only usually in the basement.

These kids didn't know each other, but they all shared an independent need to express themselves, just like nerdy kids who make comics and zines do.

And blogs.

They would write and record the music, on 8 track tape machines from 20 years before, they would create cover art with pens and collage and tape, and they would photograph it and stuff it into a cassette sleeve.

They would sing about that girl we've all known, with a million different names.

It was the best.

And I did this too.

I did this, and then I got a job in a real recording studio.

In this place, I would learn all about not only the process of recording itself, but also the industry that preyed upon it.

I learned that indie is always the way to go, because when you sign to a major (and I made this mistake twice), bad things happen.

They can sign you up in an exclusive contract, then pour all their money and attention into the hotter, more marketable 'you' they discovered on the opposite coast the week before, leaving you to dry up and eventually turn to dust, because you're not allowed to record anything at all until your contract expires in five years.

Or worse still, they can fly you overseas to record with a big name producer, where he will destroy any notion you may have had of creating an 'album', in favour of recording 'a bunch of number one singles'.

When this happens, every little thing you do is under enormous scrutiny.

You are pressured at every turn to do everything 'their' way (they're fronting the cash, after all, plus they do this for a living), which makes you wonder why they don't just do it all themselves and hire you to sing and play the guitars on it.

And it pays to remember that all the endless parties your great A&R guy throws for you at cool clubs and at the record company itself, these all cost money. Your money. No wonder they're so goddamn extravagant!

Suddenly, it's not only not your baby any more, but it's so glossy and radio, you have to ask yourself who's baby it actually is, because, hell, I don't know this baby!

Maybe it's hard to imagine, but when you write something, the notes you choose and where you place them is really important, it makes it yours.

When you come in and see not only that the producer has instructed the engineer to cut up your guitar tracks in pro tools, and re-order them to create a totally different melody, but also to meet the 3 session vocalists who are gonna "rub some funk" on your totally not-funk-at-all track, it can feel pretty upsetting.

But it can get even worse.

When the label drops you because you just cannot see eye to eye with this asshole of a producer (read: you say "no" a lot), it can feel new and exciting to see the label release your record in its entirety, as translated by the producer, sung by their latest signing (who I personally have no problem with as a person).

And they can do it, because they owned the rights to every thing I did, when my entertainment lawyer (did I mention you need one of these, and an accountant also? Oh, and an administrator can be helpful, if you have a spare $30,000 upwards a year to retain one part time.) told me it's all standard and legit, sign away.

You get the picture right?

Suddenly, you're not making tapes in the basement, that all the kids in the neighbourhood not only pay $2 each for, but come see you when you put on a show at the local church.

That's all milk and cookies.

Now, you're stuck in a world of BUSINESS, where your songs become PRODUCT, and where the record company's one priority is to make absolutely sure it sounds just like all the other product they are currently pushing.

CD's are UNITS now. Units.

So what do you do?

I mean, being a big rock star is a lot harder than it looks!

So you start your own band.

You start your own band, and you do everything yourself.

You start your own band, and you do everything yourself, and you take it on the road.

You're on the road, and you have your tour van ($8000), and you're paying for gas ($200 a day average), and you have to take into account wear and tear on the van, oil, tolls, accidental flat tyres, replacement parts ($20 a day), and you're staying in fleabag motels (around $230 a night), and it costs a lot, because you need to bring your sound engineer ($100 per day, plus $20 per diem), and sometimes a lighting tech ($100 per day, plus $20 per diem), plus you need to eat, and pay all your rent and bills while you're away from home ($80 a day), even though you're not at your job, and you're driving sometimes 12 hours a day, because Australia is fucking huge, and your Booking Agency (forgot to mention you need one of these) decides which town you play in next by throwing darts at a dartboard (I'm only partially joking here), and the lack of privacy and personal space severely fucks with you after the first month, and the smells, and people's annoying habits, and the van is so cramped, and even though you're constantly surrounded by people 24 hours a day (and paying just under a thousand dollars a day between 4 of you for the priveledge), you have never felt as lonely as you do right now.

But you're playing shows, right!?

No, you're not.

Because the band all quit.

Sure, the ad said you needed pro musicians, pro attitudes, but people have selective vision, so they just figured they'd wing it and it would be fine.

They quit because they had no idea how hard it was going to be, even though you told them.

They quit because they didn't magically have groupies turning up to their dressing rooms after the show, for blowjobs and cocaine.

They quit because they didn't have people at the show at all.

Or dressing rooms.

Forget cocaine, did you read the expenses?

They quit because suddenly you're a control freak, for writing all the songs before they joined, and for not wanting to play the other guitarist's new song in the set, which not only sounds nothing like the rest of your songs, but sounds a lot like Kid Rock.

They quit because they miss their girlfriends (probably because they're not getting groupies/blowjobs).

They quit because they had no idea what being in a band and really making a go of it on your own with next to no budget, but a whole lot of faith in your music and ability to deliver it to the people, is really like.

This is why every 'musician wanted' ad on the planet has the same 3 words on it.

"No time wasters"

So you're back at home, and you're depressed.

You're alone too, because you were stupid enough to tell the intensely hot and genuinely amazing girl of your dreams you couldn't commit to her, because you were "going on tour, hopefully for ever".

So she's now shacked up with someone else, and you can't even begin to blame her.

And you turn on the computer, and you open up photoshop/illustrator/whatever, and you fart around because there's nothing on the tv you sold to get money together to buy the tour van.

And hey, whaddyaknow!

I like the look of that.

And, oh look!

This has turned out pretty good.

And check this out!

i can put it on the internet, and people can say how much they like it, and it costs me nothing but time.

And there's no one standing over my shoulder saying "If you maybe sing this phrase like Geddy Lee from Rush, we could really take this track someplace special", or "I think a synthesizer with a phat pad on it would sound great on this".

There's no one standing there at all!

And I can do it all night, or all day, or both, or neither, and no one has an opinion either way.

In fact, the only opinion I hear is "keep it coming, we like it!"

And I like that opinion a lot.

I opened up a little online store yesterday, and I've already sold 10 items today.
And it cost me NOTHING AT ALL.

Today is a specal day for me.

Many years ago, I was in a band in New Zealand, and we were known as NZ's hardest working band.

Maybe this was a nice way of saying we sucked, I don't know.

We sounded a little Happy Mondays, a little Siouxsie and the Banshees, a little Elvis Costello, a little Alice in Chains...it was Indie, and people turned out in droves just to see us.

We recorded a single for BMG (Uh-Oh!), with Producer of the year, 3 years running, Nigel Stone (Uh-oh again!).

We recorded it at arguably the best recording studio in Wellington at the time (Marmalade Studios) with a bunch of extra session musicians (Rob Winch, Annie Crummer, Barbara Griffin), and we took out a bank loan of over $30,000 to pay for it.

The single flopped.

Today is special because I have finally finished paying it off.

So ask me again why I do art, and why I'm not busting my ass on the road any more.

Please visit my last post, and buy yourself something cool.


This is knifey, from 'the internet'.