Development Part 4 – Build A Network

How often do you hear or say something like, “That band only gets to play on weekends because the singer is the owner’s girlfriend.”

Well… yeah.  Get used to that.

Other than your skills and talents, your network may be the most important tool for growth that you can develop.  It can affect everything from show attendance to booking opportunities to better recordings to guidance.

We’ve all heard that It’s not what you know, it’s who you know.   Simply being good isn’t enough.  You have to already be good to even be considered.  That’s a private victory.  Plus, “good” is relative and simply being good doesn’t mean you can create a career.  You have to make enough other people care about how good you are.

Steve Vai is unbelievable and yet you never hear about him unless you dig into that world of guitar wizardry and the music nerds who pay attention to him.  Casual listeners don’t have a context for that stuff until someone creates it.

In the late 80s, only the “bad kids” and skaters listened to Metallica.  Parents and teachers in the bible belt town where I went to school called the music satanic.  But by 1991, I was hearing “Enter Sandman” out of the cars of all the jocks, ropers and cheerleaders in at my high school.   Many factors came together to create a context for what Metallica did.   They were already huge in the world of metal. They already had a lot of fans worldwide, a major label deal and business team.  In 1991, there was a major turn in what radio and MTV were playing as tastes moved from dance-pop  (Janet Jackson) and glam-metal (Poison) to bands like Faith No More and Nirvana.  Metallica also released their most mainstream album ever right at that moment and kind of met casual listeners in the middle of all that.

That kind of context can only be created by a massive network of fans, talent buyers, booking agents, managers, promoters, etc. etc.  By 1991, Metallica’s network was enormous.

Each of us, no matter how introverted, has a network on which we rely — even if it’s just our family and friends.   The more that you cultivate it, the more you can turn to it when in need — something that many of us seem reluctant to do because we want to do “it” ourselves.  We can’t all be good at everything.  In fact, none of us can.  Even the highest ranked A-Listers have a network and people who help them.

Here’s a list of roles/people in your network:

  • Fans – if someone likes your music, you automatically have something in common with them because you like it, too.   Amanda Palmer is the queen of developing a network of fans.  Take interest in stuff they care about – even/especially if it’s not your band!
  • Family – Check out the video below about David Lee Roth’s multi-millionaire father. How could that connection NOT have helped David Lee and Van Halen’s careers?  Don’t ignore these connections or take them for granted.  Include your family members but don’t exploit them.

 

  • Friends – every musician has to have early adopters.  These are usually your friends!  Even if they don’t love your music, they’ll support you just because you’re you.  This is also helpful in non-music contexts.  The only way to have friends is to be a friend.  Go to their happenings.  Care!
  • Media – you’re bound to meet someone in the media who likes you – even if it’s just some guy who runs a badly edited monthly fanzine.  Keep them updated.  Be friendly.  Don’t just spam them with “band plays show” emails.  You never know what they’ll pick up for a story.  I’m often surprised by what interests journalists and reporters and what doesn’t.
  • Talent Buyers/Booking Agents/Venues – re-read the first sentence of this entry.  Everyone hates contacting strangers and trying to sell them on your band.  These are the first gatekeepers you will encounter in the music business.  The longer you know them and the more they like you, the easier your communications with them will be.
  • Other Like-Minded Businesses and Organizations – are you into animal rights, comic books, sewing, tattoos, politics, sports, vintage clothing, etc?  There’s probably some organization or business for that and a whole network of like-minded folks who might like what you do.  Don’t brow beat them – genuinely be a part of what they do and let opportunities arise.  Maybe they need a band for an event – or maybe you’ll make friends with someone who loves what you do and spreads the word for you.   In a town like Austin, we’re often connected by more than one interest.  Your new dungeon master could be high up at C3.
  • Other musicians – this is huge and part of the reason Austin’s such a cool place.  We’re all sharing information and ideas all the time.  Success for your friends’ bands tends to trickle down.  How could Mike Patton joining Faith No More NOT have helped Mr. Bungle?

So how to you build the network?  Simply be a helpful part of it.

 

Development Part 3 – Training Your Audience

Hey everyone, sorry I’ve not been posting lately.  My world got super busy leading up to and during a tour.  I’m back now but also realizing that I need to stop being so long winded here if I’m going to keep up my weekly posts.

Years ago, The Invincible Czars played a show with Suburban Terror Project and a few other metal bands at Trophy’s. It was the most people I ever saw in that venue. We were definitely the sore thumb on the bill. When I looked into the audience.  I saw a roomful of deer in headlights – not sure what to think.  But at least they didn’t leave.

Later, Josh Wardrip (from Suburban Terror) and I were talking about the show and he introduced me to a term I hear and use all the time now: ready-made audience. That conversation was extremely helpful for me. I immediately understood what he meant when he said, “there’s just no ready-made audience for what you guys do.”

The audience at Trophy’s that night had developed a taste for heavy metal. They hadn’t developed a taste for what we did — but at least they were open enough to try it.

That seems to be the route that you have to take if you’re doing something that doesn’t have a ready-made audience. It’s not a very fun one at first. It means spending lots of time in front of deer in headlights and hoping some of them snap out of it having liked what they heard. That percentage of early adopters in an audience is often low.

Years later, I heard Peter Stopschinski and Graham Reynolds talk about this as the process of   training your audience. Just as your music and band must develop, the audience for what you do must as well.

The first time I heard Mr. Bungle and Naked City, I didn’t have any context. It took me being exposed to the music lots of times again to understand and acquire a taste for what they did. (The hilarity of that sentence is that I often make fun of people who say you have to acquire a taste for beer. Why would I want to acquire a taste for something awful?   That’s exactly how people feel about music they’re not ready for.)

Unless you’re doing something that everyone can immediately appreciate, it takes time to for people to develop a taste for what you do. This is why cover and tribute bands come out of the gate with an audience. Everyone already likes what they do before they even do it!

Last year, I saw two very different bands with very different ways of building their fanbase each fill the Mohawk in Austin.

One was Red Fang. It’s not terribly surprising to me that they’ve built a relatively big fanbase over the last 10 years – anyone who’s ever heard Metallica or Black Sabbath can grasp Red Fang’s music and they’re very good at what they do. No additional audience training is required.  (I did feel compelled to train one kid to quit trying to pull me in to the mosh pit by throwing a can at him.) Red Fang has tapped into a ready-made audience and do a really good job of entertaining them.  Good for them!

Later that month, I saw Goblin at the same venue. This was a very different audience of people who’ve somehow acquired a taste for Goblin’s intricate, proggy music over the last 40 years.  For most of that time, the band didn’t even exist having broken up the early 80s.  Any group that might’ve been considered a ready-made audience for Goblin would have been (and still is) minuscule compared with today’s broad world of heavy metal.  It took much longer, but they finally developed that audience!

So how can you train your audience?

Good question.  All I can think to do is find what you do really well without stopping and take advantage of opportunities as they arise.

Because  ultimately you don’t have control over who likes your band. I mean, you can target a large potential audience but that doesn’t guarantee they’ll like you. That’s the double edged sword of the ready-made audience – not all of them will like you and it’s hard to stand out.  Red Fang has WAY more competition than a band like Goblin that creates its own context rather than tapping into one.

But don’t fool yourself.  Creating your own audience is very time consuming.  After 10 years as a band, Goblin called it quits for nearly 20 years.  Their horror movie soundtracks kept the music alive and won new fans in the film world. People who liked them kept sharing their music. 40 years later, they played the same size audience as Red Fang did in 10.

If you can find or create a context for what you do best and take advantage of opportunities that develop around that, your audience will find you and vice versa.

On a personal-ish – note, I really had a lot of time to think on this topic while on the road.  I don’t think this entry quite nails all my thoughts and I’m still learning but I did get to experience some benefits of my own audience development efforts:  The Invincible Czars were touring with our 7th silent film soundtrack.  It was the longest tour we’ve done since 2004, nearly every show was full or sold out and I achieved the goal of booking an all silent film tour – meaning no rock shows. When I first started booking these shows outside Austin, most theaters/venues would (and still do) say, “Who would come to a silent movie?  Not interested.”

This got me thinking of the power of having your own contexts that supersede the actual art.  Hollywood might be the best example.  I love the irony of a bunch of rednecks watching movies created by the very liberal California entertainment business they rail against or the hardcore Star Wars fans who criticize and complain as they buy every last piece of a Phantom Menace memorabilia.

Now that’s a well-trained audience!

 

Playing Out of Town

Playing Out of Town After my last post, Xander from Proud Peasant suggested I expand upon the notion that you have to leave town to actually earn any money or get anywhere.

This idea seems to fly in the face of what of most experts advise: focus on your hometown and when you can sell out a show there, expand your region. I didn’t heed that advice because:

(1) By the time I heard it, I’d already played out of town and earned more money doing so than playing in Austin.

(2) Selling out a show seemed unlikely. How many sold out shows have any of us ever been to? How many of those were local bands? If it was easy to do, it’d happen all the time.

(3) It’s very possible to live in a place where your style of music is simply not popular. Ex: Jazz in Austin. There are plenty of bands that play huge events in other towns/nations that just play the same old clubs in Austin for years. They’re big Japan.

(4) As far as I could tell, there were plenty of bands that weren’t selling out in Austin or their hometowns but seemed to do ok on the road.*

(5) Austin is a unique market – just because you do well here, doesn’t mean you’ll do well anywhere else.

So I always questioned the need to sell out a show before moving on to other markets.

But here’s the catch 22 – if no one’s heard of you in a place, there’s no point in playing there. BUT —- for most bands, no one will hear of you in a place unless you go play there.

Furthermore, if you play a town that has no bands like you, there’re no similar bands there for you to network/co-promote with and you’ll play to no one. If you go somewhere that has bands that are like you, there’s no reason the people there should come see you. They can see the local version of you any time (but at least you stand a chance of winning over some of their fans if you play together). This is why shows in music towns like Austin or Seattle are so tough.

When I look at Austin bands that seem to create careers for themselves, most DO sell out shows here and then move on. The Sword. Ghostland. Octopus Project. Bob Schneider. Spoon. Okkervil River. But why limit this example to Austin? Neko Case, Reverend Horton Heat, Mark Kozelek, Brave Combo, Built to Spill, Metallica, Secret Chiefs 3, Nirvana, Van Halen, Dirty Projectors, Flaming Lips, Daft Punk, etc. etc. etc.

They are all at different levels and from different places. It took longer for some than others but they all found something they did that people liked before they really took off.

(I’m not a big fan of Daft Punk, but I have to say that I admire their tenacity. I heard them for the first time in the 90s and would see them in alternative music magazines like Magnet. 14 years later, they had the worldwide number one hit of the summer.)

My own experience speaks to this in a small way. After years of booking shows all over the US with a modicum of success, I noticed everything suddenly got easier around 2011-ish. Booking. Rehearsals. Shows. Really everything. It only took playing most venues once for them to ask, “When can you come back?” Booking requests went from “may we?” to “when may we?” It was actually really easy to see why this had happened:

(1) We kept going to the same places and playing to people who I/we thought might really like us (instead of trying to force heavy metal dudes to appreciate our “ruined” version of Iron Maiden songs)

(2) The band was finally playing to its strengths and focusing on entertaining the audiences at least as much as ourselves. I finally had an act that people other than the band members could easily appreciate.

(3) The band line-up was the best it had ever been in every way. **

The point is – the band was finally getting pretty good at what we did and finding people who agreed. The better the band got, the more we resonated with others, the more opportunities and money came our way.

It seems so obvious, doesn’t it? Make a cool, good thing. Then share.

And yet I and so many put the cart before the horse. That’s because it’s so easy to mistake the prototype for the final product. I like it so I bet others will, too. We’re wrong more often than not. I spent much of the early 00s playing road shows with a band/material that had no evidence of resonating with anyone else. It was a long and frustrating game with a very small chance of winning fans. I was too focused on satisfying myself. I think most bands do this. There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s just that the only way you’ll grow outside your region is if what satisfies you just happens to resonate with others.

Here’s the advice I’d give the me of 10 years ago — if your hometown audience is mostly other small time musicians, there’s no point in leaving town. Most of them are just there because they’re opening for you or vice versa. That doesn’t mean what you’re doing isn’t good. It simply means that your efforts to expand will be very, very difficult if non-musicians don’t appreciate what you do. You don’t need to drive to San Jose to play to indifferent people at a bar or furniture when you can do it right here in Austin.

As much as I didn’t want it to be true, Graham Reynolds was right when he said that I put the The Invincible Czars “on the map” when we debuted our Nutcracker Suite: It was the first thing ever did that attracted people outside our group of friends/bands in any significant way.

Another thing about playing out of town – unless some publicist picks you up, you’ll have to go through almost the same reputation and fan building process you did in your hometown in every town you play. This is made much easier what you’re really good at what you do.

 

*I may have been really wrong about this. Over time, I started to realize that most bands were losing money on the road – even the ones with booking agents and reputable record labels. I’ve never had illusions that the music I make will have mass appeal. The number of other bands’ sold out shows I’ve attended over the years is small because I tend to like bands that are the same way. Even when I was college age, my favorite bands were rarely on college radio or on the college charts. And yet they’d come to Austin and have great shows. I saw Oakland’s Sleepytime Gorilla Museum fill rooms several times including one amazing Monday night show at the old Emo’s inside stage.

 

** Leila, Phil and Hen3ry made the Invincible Czars really easy to book. They’re fun to watch, fun to hear, reliable and dedicated. This is not meant to offend past members of the band, it’s just that we were all on the same page at this time and it paid off.

Tribute Bands – Cruising in the “B” Ark

(or Shooting Free Throws Whilst Stand on a Ladder)

I was going back and forth with a fan from Chicago this week on the topic of original music verses playing covers and tribute bands. It got my wheels turning.

Before you read this, know that I don’t hate tribute or cover bands and I think that comparing them to original bands is not apples to apples:

I don’t remember much about my first gig in LA except being surprised to find almost nothing but tribute bands in the show listings of their weekly paper.  Someone (I think Bill Petersen) predicted the scourge of tribute bands would find it’s way across the country and it sure has.

Though I mostly feel neutral about them now, the idea of tribute bands becoming the primary contribution of a music scene to its region still bugs me. “Los Angeles – the Copy Cat Music Capital of the World” doesn’t seem fitting for a town that creates tons of good original music – even if it’s just as obscure as anything from any other city.

Maybe that’s what happens when a scene gets so big and saturated though — when a community has so many options that the fleeting and unrefined tastes of the majority practically dictate that anyone who wants to play the game must deal in lowest common denominators. The idea of asking the audience to make an investment as simple as listening to a whole original song or watching a whole original short film becomes too big a request. They don’t have time for that when they could be seeing one of two Led Zeppelin tribute bands tonight!

I’ve talked a lot on this blog about giving your audience what they want – and don’t tribute bands do that better than any original act possibly can?

I mean, The Egg Men are about as close as anyone under the age of 50 will ever get to seeing the Beatles live. That’s valuable to a scene – and possibly even outside it! Plus, it helps keeps the Beatles’ alive beyond recorded media. Cool.

But that’s not giving your audience what they want. That’s giving The Beatles’ audience what they want.

And this is why it’s so easy to hate tribute (and cover) bands when you’re a snobby, self-proclaimed artist like me (hey, at least I’m not alone!): They get to skip past the years-long investment and trial and error of creating music and a b®and and building an audience. Instead, they tap into an already-existing catalog of beloved classics that audiences already love thanks to the work of the most popular bands in the world ever and their team of managers, arrangers, handlers, publicists, etc. etc etc.

That sounds pretty smart from a business standpoint – but it’s kind of like shooting free throws on ladder three inches from the basket. Either you’re cheating or you’re not really playing the same game.

If you don’t care about playing the same game, that’s great because you are now mentally set to play high paying gigs right off the bat while furthering the catalog of your favorite band.

That’s why I now feel pretty neutral about tribute bands. They’re not playing the same game. I already know I can shoot ten out of ten free throws on the ladder as long as I don’t mess up majorly. I don’t really care about playing that game.

That’s oversimplified. Good tribute bands take work, talent and dedication just like original bands – but (I say this with total respect to The Egg Men and any really good tribute band) tribute bands aren’t artists.

OK OK OK – yes, there are some very cool tribute bands out there like that put their own spin on the music they tribute – Jazzus Lizard, Dung Beatles, Dread Zeppelin.  In that way, they’re more like a band covering the material in their own style rather than striving for an exact replica of what’s already been done.

But there’s probably a Beatles, a Led Zeppelin and a Pink Floyd (why are they all British?) tribute band in every major US and European city. Why should anyone outside of Austin care about the Egg Men when the Day Trippers and the Paperback Writers and the Number 9s are all playing the same songs we all know and love?

I posit that the number of people who choose to listen to a recording of The Egg Men over a recording of the Beatles is very low and probably even lower than the number of people who listen to recordings of obscure small time bands.

Original bands have the opportunity to make a direct and much deeper connection with their fans. Even if it’s small, it’s real, lasting and valuable to both parties.   Original bands can change lives and that can go beyond the boundaries of their home town or region.

Tribute bands only validate changes to lives already made by the band they tribute.  They don’t make as direct a connection so much as they act as a medium for one.  They’re valuable and even memorable but… ultimately they’re cruising through universe of music in a Douglas Adams-esque “B” Ark and the music business knows it:  Ever see a review of tribute band’s album?  How many tribute bands play at ACL, SxSW, FPSF or other music festivals?  Not many… if any.

Side Note: Anyone want to start a NoMeansNo tribute band?

No Such Thing as Bad Press

Outdoor silent film in San Antonio.

The media hasn’t exactly clamored to cover the incredible body of art (ha!) I’ve created in my life. However, I have had enough opportunities to talk to the people in print media and radio/television to understand the old saying that there’s no such thing as bad press.

I’ve also done enough to understand the genius of Robert McNamara’s philosophy of dealing with the press: “Don’t answer the question they asked. Answer the question you wish they had asked.”

The media don’t have the full story when they come to you – if they did, why would they be coming to you? (answer: only if they’re trying to “sting” you or catch you in a lie.) Often, you know more about a topic than they do so don’t be afraid to steer the boat a little. Expecting them to know the right questions to ask in certain situations is unrealistic.   The best interviewers familiarize themselves with their subjects beforehand, but many come to the table with a cursory knowledge of the subject – especially when they have a deadline looming. That’s not bad. In fact, sometimes you want to be interviewed by someone who is totally neutral.

Often media people don’t know or grasp your story, especially in today’s sound byte culture. Add to that the fact that journalists get so much stuff that their roles sometimes morph into that of “gatekeepers” simply choosing which press release to print (sometimes word for word) and which to ignore. I’ve found it’s good to determine your message beforehand and make sure it’s said as clearly, succinctly and often as possible (and that it be the last word if possible).

I made the mistake of not following my own guidelines twice in the last month:

One of them was for this interview. I spoke with the reporter for well over an hour about the last 15+ years of bands rescoring silent films in Austin. I gave way too much information with no clear point – just lengthy, rambling answers to her questions. She was left to draw her own conclusions and, like most interviews I’ve done, some of the quotes in it are close to what I said/meant but don’t actually get my idea across.

Example: “Bands were playing their sets in front of an old movie… I knew it could be a cool experience.”

What I actually said was something more like, “Some bands were just treating these shows as a chance to play their rock sets with the movie as a backdrop. I knew the silent movie with live music could be a cooler experience than that.”

Instead, it almost sounds (to me) like I’m saying that I thought it was cool when bands were playing their rock sets in front of an old movie. Total opposite.

In the end, what I thought was going to be a piece on silent film in Texas with other interviewees turned out to just be a profile of my band. If I’d known that, my talking points would’ve been different — that is to say, I would’ve had some instead of talking off the cuff (almost always a bad idea with the press, imo.)

In March, I got a call from KEYE TV asking a bunch of questions about Austin New Year event which was rained out. I could tell it was one of those investigative “chasing the money trail” kind of reports but I didn’t think I had anything to hide so I talked to them. This will make me sound like an opportunist but when they asked at the end of the conversation if they could come interview me with a camera I thought, “There’s no such thing as bad press. Say yes and have your bands’ name on TV!” It sounds totally cheesy but, that’s what I thought.   So I said yes but also said I refused to say anything bad about the City because I didn’t think they’d done anything wrong – and still don’t.

I want to add that the reporter and camera guy were totally cool and would certainly be welcome back at my house. Here’s the piece they ran that night*. It had A LOT more of me in it than I expected.

What I said that they didn’t include:

  • There’s nothing weird or abnormal about how this went down. Outdoor events are ALWAYS at the risk of weather cancelations. That’s the risk event planners take. It’s not the contractors’ fault that the event cancelled.
  • Good event planners understand that most of the time consuming, difficult work for any gig of this nature is done before the day of the event whether the event happens or not. By the time you get there, all that’s left to do is lug in your gear and execute “the show” that you’ve been practicing for weeks.
  • I’m glad that the City of Austin put that weather clause in the contract because some entities do not. I learned the hard way twice (two different entities in San Antonio!) and it won’t happen again. (worth mentioning that one of those entities actually asked me to return the 50% deposit they paid me to hold the date when the event was canceled with only a few hours notice and then expected us to do the same event totally free the next year because we’d kept the 50% deposit.)

For this story, I had my talking points but, again, I answered too many questions at length giving them way too much material and forcing/allowing them to draw their own conclusions rather than steering the boat.

Ultimately, the media are the ones in control of the final edit. The less you give them to work with, the less opportunities for your message to be distorted.

(Here’s a great interview with me where my quotes were all nearly exactly what I said because I typed the answers to these questions.)

None of this matters, though, because — there’s no such thing as bad press. ATtworst, that KEYE interview might’ve made it seem like I was wrapped up in a scandal but it still put my band’s name and footage of us on city-wide television.  All I heard from anyone about this was, “Hey man, I saw you and the band on the news! Awesome!”

Thank you Melanie and Kathy for interviewing me!

 

*What I’d like to say in response to the piece:

 

  • I never really heard much else from the City about this and I don’t blame them. Yes, losing $1800 of tax payer money on a band looks bad but — at what point is it no longer worth the City’s time to chase this matter? They named their replacement date knowing not all of us could make it – March and April are always insanity in Austin. I can only imagine that by the time this piece ran, the City had moved on to bigger and more pressing matters. The replacement event happened. The contracted event planners all moved on to other jobs and aren’t technically in the City’s employ at this point. We’d be glad to do a separate date for the City but can’t force them to plan an event just for us.  Businesses lose money like this all the time. It’s part of the risk associated with doing business. It’s no different with government – except that their mistakes seem to go public quicker. (Furthermore, I bet the City has put way more money into other bigger, even riskier efforts that didn’t pan out.)
  • If anyone felt like I was a jerk for taking the money, consider that I and my whole band held the date, were in town and on the ready all day waiting for a call to say yea or nay. Some of us even cut our holiday vacations short and travelled through serious weather to be back in town for ana event that was likely to get canceled. If the weather had been perfect, we would’ve made $1800. If the weather had been unbearably cold, we would’ve made $1800 and probably been pretty unhappy playing a painful gig and movie our equipment for about 3 hours, but we would’ve done it (and have done it).
  • The City’s make up event went off just fine. Austin may not have gotten quite the event it hoped for but it was an equivalent one with way better weather!

 

 

Prove Yourself. Now Do it Again. Again. Again…

Recently, I had a group conversation that meandered its way onto the topic of having to continually prove one ’s self  – even to people who already know you to be capable.  Some of the people felt like they shouldn’t have to prove themselves to their fellow musicians… or anyone.  Some of us felt like proving ourselves again and again was necessary –possibly even the whole point of being a performing musician.

I was definitely in the latter group and the whole thing got me thinking some stuff that I thought would be worth sharing here.

There’s real validity in viewing a career as a series of hurdles to jump – regardless of profession.   Artists, dancers, software developers, construction workers, soldiers, athletes and even office workers are all constantly having to prove themselves over and over.  If the answer to “Can you do this?” is yes, then the next question is either “Can you do this again?” or, “Can you do that other thing?”

Primus proving it.

In the case of musicians, we’re constantly performing in front of our band mates, our audience, our peers and critics in various formats.  We’re constantly proving ourselves to them.

Here’s the line of thought the other side SEEMS TO ME to have:  “I can do this thing.  I have done it before.  Why do I need to do it again in front of these people?  I know I can do it and they’ve seen/heard evidence of it.  Isn’t that enough?”

No.  As a performer, you need to be able to do it – not almost do it – more than once.  Otherwise, you’re just lucky.

If you show up to a dress rehearsal and you can’t play your part well , the others don’t think, “She sounds good on the recording, she’ll get it for the show.”  They think, “Oh yeah, we had to overdub this on the recording because she couldn’t get it.  She probably won’t get it for the show, either.”   You can probably make up for this if or you nail your part at the show!

If you have a truly bad show, audiences usually know.  They notice missed hits, bad notes, etc.  You may get some leeway with a brand new audience that has never heard the material… but how long will that last?  Two or three performances in that market?   Eventually they start to think, “This band doesn’t live up to the recording. “  It’s a little tougher to make up for this because it might be several weeks or months or even years before you play to those same people again to prove that you just had a bad night that one time.

I saw Dillinger Escape Plan open for Mr. Bungle in 1995 in Dallas.  Dillinger was actually booed off stage!  I saw them a few times after that in different venues, their fingers were fast but all I ever heard was a rumble of white noise.  I never went to see them again and I never choose listen to their recordings, even though they’re good.

(NOTE:  It’s important not to confuse an audience that doesn’t like WHAT you do with and audience that doesn’t like HOW you do it.  If you’re a boy band opening for a metal band, that audience is going to kill you whether you play well or not.   If you are a half-assed metal band, they may not kill you but they probably won’t pay attention.  It’s hard to learn anything from this situation.  “Why do they not like us?”  Dunno.)

If you release a mediocre CD and send it to critics for review, you’ll be lucky to get bad reviews.  You’ll probably just get no review from most of them.  This is harder and more expensive to make up for because now you need a whole new product to send these same people to prove that you CAN do it right – if they’ll even listen.

And there’s where the coin flips – it’s also possible to prove yourself UNable.  If you can’t get your part in rehearsal, if you play badly in front of the audience, if the critics and gatekeepers think you’re mediocre, it’s entirely possible that those people won’t give you another chance.  “He never plays it right and he’s not going to.”  “They’re just sloppy.”  “She doesn’t write compelling songs or make good records.”

Recovering from proving yourself UNable is tough, tough, tough.  Sometimes you can’t.

There’s a really not-worth-watching video of The Invincible Czars’ only performance on KVRX’s Local Live in 2003 out there.  We didn’t know we’d be video-taped and so we look terrible.  We had just lost a drummer and so we don’t sound very together even with the excellent Aaron Lack standing in on drums.  When I called to ask KVRX if we could do Local Live again a couple years later, they informed me that they only have bands once ever.

Aaron Lack drumming with The Invincible Czars at the Carousel Lounge in 2003.

Neat.  Now one of our most mediocre nights is preserved forever in KVRX’s archives.  When I see that thing, I think, “No wonder no one ever came to see us in the early days.”

I wish that I had understood the perspective of audiences, critics, my fellow musicians and band mates.  I see now that the potential I saw in various projects I’ve done didn’t mean anything to anyone unless it was executed well.  Potential isn’t worth much to someone trying to hire a band for an event, to an audience that wants to be entertained or a critic who hopes to be wowed.  You either do it or not and those kinds of things will only happen after you prove yourself able to harness and use your potential effectively and consistently.  Not before. In their eyes, if you can’t prove it, you can’t do it.  Can you get on this stage and make this audience that has never heard you actually care?  Prove it.

Proving it once doesn’t end the cycle.  Now you have do it again for this other audience.  Now, again for this audition.  Again in this other city.  Now in the studio.  Now live on the radio. TV.  In the dark.  In the cold.  Again!

It won’t ever stop.  Even as aging rockers, jazz singers, classical musicians, etc. near the ends of their careers, they’re still proving themselves over and over again.  As I write this, Aerosmith is preparing to prove it once again in Austin during Formula 1’s Austin Fan Fest.

Final thought:  proving yourself  won’t bring success – only worthiness of it and a sense of satisfaction.