You know, I wrote this song for you...

You write a song, then you perform the song.

Every song writer or song writing band has a process (or many processes) in how songs are written and then released into the world.

Many write a song then, immediately after it's done, play that song live and/or release a demo online.

I'm not sure this is a process that works. I feel in many ways it takes away from the work that's put into the song.

Don't get me wrong, there's a place for "how it was done" type material. But, usually it's reserved for after the finished product has been released. You know? Hollywood doesn't run the "DVD: Extras" section of the movie before the movie plays. And, even when they show the extras, they're presented in a polished manner that only shows the "wow" stuff that the general public couldn't do because they don't have the resources.

But what about a song? The general public has the resources to write poetry, write lyrics, and much more.

I mean, how many people do you know that own a guitar, piano, etc? Plus, musical tools are basically mainstream. Most computers (and even phones) come with an easy to use music program.

I'm starting to feel that when releasing a song now, you have to have in mind that the consumer is now having an attitude of "I can do that." Plus, with this mainstream of musical creation availability, a good chunk of people who even watch live music consider themselves (and definitely can/should) a musician in some sense.

Plus, in the small scale of playing in Albuquerque, when you haven't rehearsed your new song a huge number of times or have a professional production team to make your stage sparkle, even the best live performances can make a song less special.

What if the venue smells bad, the guy next to you is throwing up, you just broke up with your girlfriend and the band is too loud? Or (like in a lot of venues) the sound just isn't as good as you would like.

People then hear this song and have a negative association with it.

Why release a song, that you feel so connected to or have such a good feeling about, into such a hostile environment?

Does playing it live give the benefit of crowd reaction? So you can gauge if it's a good song or not? I don't think most rock bars are the best places to invite people to react to new music.

You see, when I play a cover people usually perk up a bit, will rock out with you and sing along. Is it because it's a good song? Do I just play it extremely well? Not necessarily. It's because they've just heard before and in a manner where it was presented in a way the original artist defined for them.

So, that's what I've really been trying to think about lately. How do you present your music in that specific way? How do you release music, even when the venue has all of these issues associated with venues, so that the public can hear your music how you intend them to hear?

It's all kind of blurry.

Gimme gimme gimme that MONEY!

So, I found myself dealing with some money issues lately. Not the kind that are about not having any, it's about its distribution. It's an odd sort of dealing when you have the "control" of other peoples's money.

I never gave it much thought. I always felt that if a service was provided, you get paid. So, if I commission someone to play with me, tell them a rate for what I want, they get it. But, if they DON'T deliver, I shouldn't pay them what I said, right?

Some people obviously feel different.

You know, I'm still at the beginning of my journey into DIY musician-ing, and am still in the midst of meeting more people (I suppose I'll never meet enough, but I know very few now) and getting regular shows, earning trust, etc.

In this process I have met other working musicians, and have established friendships with most. I feel it's important to be friendly.

But where do I draw the line of getting taken advantage of by other musicians?

I mean, if the musicians I attempt to reach out to don't deliver, and they still make demands of compensation is it wrong to say "no"? It seems that being that Albuquerque is really small, if someone starts saying "Carlos didn't pay me for a show we did together, blah, blah, blah..." it could cause a backlash that is hard to shake.

It's a little frustrating.

I consider all of the musicians I play with my friends. If it's a show that is mine, (i.e. I set it up, provided gear, etc.) I'm the one that gets paid from the venue. So, I try to distribute the money in a fair (equal) manner.

But I suppose everyone has their idea of what's fair.

I'm starting to figure saying "Fine, here's the money" to them, and just no longer working with that musician. I'm not about to go flaming them and marking their names as bad. But I suppose the easiest and best outcome, so no one tries to say I screwed them out  of money, is to no longer work with them.

Sounds like a simple conclusion.

Ok, I'll post a positive blog next time, promise.

So, I played the worst show of my life last night.

So, I played the worst show of my life last night.

I found myself realizing how odd it was to feel that way. I've come to think of myself as someone who has played a lot of shows, and have had bad ones before. Still, last night really felt like the worst show ever.

Something about the atmosphere, the stale energy, the smell of sticky beer on the floor, the garbled heckling/chatter/laughter of many a drunk person. The fucking UFC fight! It was literally making me physically ill to play.

I mean, the whole thing started all wrong. Silly me, I decided to begin with what I thought was a fun/easy cover (Britney Spears "Hold it Against Me"), which I have played a few times already, yet managed to forget the chords during the climax of the chorus. Fabulous. I salvaged what I could of the song, mumbling inflections and strumming dead notes in a somewhat rhythmic fashion. Still, it seemed to set the pace for the rest of the night.

I got through the rest of my first set without much hindrance, even managed to keep a smile on my face the whole time. But the whole ambiance (if there ever was any) felt shattered.

Next up, the musician I had asked to play with me that night went through their set fine. The crowd continued with their general lack of interest with a hint of loathing toward the music that was coming from the stage atop the bathroom stalls. But I had had a couple of beers and felt ready to play again. 

This time I stuck to the high energy classics (ala: Elvis, Beatles, Cash). The energy level seemed to increase a bit, I started feeling a little better about my life choices. And even though I broke a string in the middle of a song, it was OK. This would be the high point of the night, which would have been fine since it was supposed to be my last set. 

So, the sharing musician goes on for their second set. Enter: the man in the vertical striped button up. The music coming from the PA is of the fiddle variety and it seems to be causing some sort of allergic reaction to the botox pumped into the face of the oh so delicious "candy" sitting next to the man whom adorns himself with the vertical striped shirt. This is apparently causing a fuss amongst the management staff who has started flocking to the "stage" and are making quick glances back and fourth toward the stage and myself. So I get up from my beer to address this unrest. 

The verdict was bad. The man in the striped pajamas was the owner of the bar, and decided that fiddle was NOT what he had envisioned when he created this place for high-classies as himself. 

Lucky for me, I had the duty of relaying the information to the musician (whom I actually respect and enjoy greatly) right in the middle of their set to, by the request of the owner, stop playing fiddle and stick to guitar at the threat of being pulled off the stage. Pulled off the stage? Yup, that's what I was told. yeah... 

I suppose it's not hard to believe there was offense taken by my usually quite positive musician friend. Needless to really say, they stopped playing and left the bar after a bit of venting. Which leaves me to finish the night with all of this ULTRA AMAZING energy in the room. Whoo! I could've thrown up....

I limply went back up on the stage above the bathroom stalls and began to fake my best smile while strumming through my set (basically a repeat of my first set w/ a few extras). The crowd seemed to not notice much of the goings on behind the scenes, but their lack of enthusiasm and general resentment toward me was a continued pleasantry that helped my 45minutes remaining feel like the rest of my life. 

Was it my fault?

I guess it's my fault. I should have payed attention to the fact that the crowd was going to be strange due to the fight, especially with the overflow of the sports bar next door. I should have known that my fellow musician tends to lean toward the quirky and not the mainstream. I should have known that the owner would have come in with his vertical stripes button up and tanorexic arm candy... um... yeah. I guess I should've known better.

So, here's to you greatest worst show of my life. Thanks for not really being so terrible that I had a small sense of sadistic enjoyment out of you. But for truly being terrible. Being terrible in that cold and unrelenting way of pummeling me into making me feel that I've somehow made the incorrect life decision. That music isn't really worth it. That no matter the work, the practice, the passion I have, that I could live with if even if no one cared. But the fact that people go out of there way to break you is almost too much.

Unfortunately for me, what I do is no longer a conscious decision.