Volume 15 – #10 – October 2012

The music business involves two things, music and business. And that’s where the dilemma begins. Most musicians just want an opportunity to express themselves as they see fit and make money doing it, which seems simple enough. It’s unfortunate that ego has to be such an active part of the formula, but, of course, without it nothing would happen. But too much of it can cloud someone’s judgment so severely that he or she might as well be constantly drunk. What really sucks is that for your band to be successful, others have to notice and notice often and like what they are noticing often enough to pay money to notice it more closely. This means that a lot of people other than family and friends have to pay money, either to see you play or to buy your merchandise. If the desire to increase your money is great enough, the business side has to enter the picture. That’s the sobering side of the party. It takes people to book the shows, promote the shows, make the recordings, promote the recordings, sell the recordings, file receipts, report the earnings, pay the bills, move the gear, manage the web site, email the stage plot, service the van, set up rehearsals, change the light bulbs in the rehearsal space, get the money after the gig, write press releases and so on. The list is, indeed, limitless. This is not an easy-going means of employment. You know, someone has to design the posters, see that the posters are printed and then put up posters and someone has to buy airline tickets and let the venue know when the band will arrive. I am great at booking motel rooms. I enjoy it more than, say, promoting the shows, but not as much as writing songs. But I hate registering the songs after they’re written. Anything that requires filling out a form, which is everything, is a big drag and almost not worth doing under any circumstances. So, it’s easy to see how an “artist” would not want to mess with almost anything that falls into the category of office busywork. That’s why every town in the USA has at least a few eccentric, unsuccessful but decent musicians. And one or two may even be creating some pretty mind-blowing sounds. I’ve known a few musicians along the way that honestly couldn’t care less about the commercial success of their art. The act of playing, by itself, always paid off, kinda like having a constant flow of your favorite food coming at you. This is serious self-pleasuring and kinda gross, when you think about it. But such is the motivation behind art, right? You know, like gratifying oneself above all other things and being unable to stop, fulfilling a vision because you have one, or think you do. You’ve seen movies about stubborn artists, singers, composers, dancers, actors, directors, determined to do whatever, their way, puffed-up with pride. And, although this is a cliché, it’s true. If you don’t feel that way you get battered and tattered by the assault of so many opinions you lose your uniqueness. I’m on a stage 100 to 200 times a year and, generally, if I can hear everything properly, I’m pretty darn comfortable up there. But, I am becoming more and more uncomfortable with what being a person on a stage, exhibiting one’s art, looks like. Maybe I’ve been to too many shows and have watched too many concerts on TV. The performer wants the audience to follow what he or she is doing, sure, but sometimes it feels more like the performer is just pretending to be a little god for a while, duping a percentage of people into believing that he or she has answers to the questions and solutions to the puzzle. The stage elevates you. The lights illuminate you. The PA makes your voice louder than anyone else’s. Who wouldn’t get caught up in that? And an ego that can operate in that environment, without nervous perspiration, has to feel that it deserves it. Well, all I have to say is that I hope whatever crap I’m throwing at people, from the stage, is worth the audience’s trouble and money, cause it’s also easy to have doubts. Big ones. I’ve always figured I would be “found out” someday and that people would realize that what I do is really pretty dumb and would want to have no more of Brave Combo’s stupid point of view. But let’s say you overcome all of those personal land mines and are convinced that what you do can have broad appeal. When that day comes the musician’s life becomes 90% about business and 10% about music. Weird, huh? Heaven and Hell come together on Earth.

BAND JOKE:
Musicians talking after a club gig.
John: Well, that went pretty well.
Jack: Really? There were only about 50 people here and only half of them paid to get in.
John: Yeah, but that’s twice as many as we had last time.
Jack: So, do YOU want to get our money from the club manager?
John: Hell no!

Speaking of musicians, my good buddy, Danny Jerabek, and I will have our new album ready to go in a matter of weeks. We call ourselves THE NICE MUSICS and we don’t sound exactly like Brave Combo or his band, Copperbox, but we do sound just like our charming selves. You will definitely want this unique musical package in your catalog. Here’s one of the jacket ideas.  ———–>

Hey, it’s Halloween time already. That means it’s the beginning of another holiday season. Didn’t this just happen? Every October, two or three houses in the neighborhood sprout pumpkins and orange lights and Walgreen ghosts. In early November, all the lounge-metal Thanksgiving bands start playing around Denton. Before you know it, the Pagans step up the human sacrifices on the downtown square, bringing popcorn vendors out of the woodwork. Then, without warning, Santa lights the candles on his menorah and a bunch of front yards near my house become cluttered with Cabbage Patch dolls dressed up like the Three Wise Men, facing plastic, internally-lit, nativity scenes, featuring Frosty, the snowman. Just like Japan! And it all comes crashing down on January 1, New Year’s Day. That’s the day after New Year’s Eve, which is the last chance to party, holiday-style. So, get out there and do your part.

In the meantime, don’t forget to vote. You’ve heard about the upcoming elections, right?

Please check our itinerary often. New BC dates can appear when and where you least expect it. As we enter the time of colorful lights, let’s all remember one thing. When we’re born we’re stuck here until we die. Let’s polka!