REGIE'S BLOG
For Those At Sea ...
Posted: 4/26/2010 11:41:32 AM
As I was about to turn 30, I began getting barraged with CDs and letters explaining how and why it was finally time for the person sending said CD to "take the next step" and "go to the next level" with their music. Many of these same people had laughed at me for diving head long into the music industry right out of high school and scoffed at my jettisoning college to walk the road less travelled. I distinctly remember laughing and tossing their CDs and letters into the garbage. I knew they were just reaching a milestone of age in their life and freaking out about the career path on which they had most likely inadvertently found themselves. My reaction to their panic probably seems cold and calloused. The truth is by the time I was 30 I had already belonged to a tight-knit fraternity for well over a decade and I was long past having time for frivolous dabblers. I admire the person chasing a dream and will lock arms with them in solidarity toward that end. I refuse, however, to be a short cut for those who want to minimize all risk while pursuing that dream. It isn't fair to the dreamer. For dreams to really come true they must be firmly planted in extreme risk. In short, if you aren't willing to lose everything; be broken down to nothing; be lost at sea forever; you have no business in the music business and I can't really help you. More importantly ...I WON'T help you. It sounds mellow-dramatic I know, but the truth is entertainment is a blood sport and we gladiators swear an unspoken oath to win or die. There are only two ways out of the music business - enough success to retire or enough failure to destroy your life. There's almost nothing in between.
I think back on my earliest days of struggle to become a successful songwriter. I was in my late teens and living in a completely bare apartment, in the bad section of town, with nothing but a twin mattress on the floor. My car would get broken into about once a week when it was working. I would take 10 bucks to the grocery store and buy boxes and boxes of Ramen noodles for 39 cents apiece. My sheer poverty and perceived lack of promise was almost laughable ...but I was on a mission and would not be swayed from it. I remember the day my good friend Joel Lindsey quit his high paying corporate job at a well-known insurance and investment firm to launch into full time songwriting. He had just been offered a promotion and raise. He promptly turned in his resignation and removed his necktie for the last time ...never to be donned again. He and I became roommates and fellow sufferers for our art. While our friends were landing jobs and starting families, we were getting our electricity, phones and water shut off on a regular basis. We were working odd jobs and waiting tables and doing just enough to survive while writing 5 to 10 songs a week, studying every writer of note in the history of the art form, and hustling our way onto records. We would start every day with one of us throwing out a word we had to rhyme with in every sentence until the next day. Our entire lives were immersed in the art and craft of songwriting.
Joel has gone on to become an iconic songwriter in the world of Gospel music. His song "Orphans Of God" brings me to tears every time and the sheer volume of his work is staggering. But his genius aside, Joel and I will always share a special bond that transcends the music we've both created. The bond we share is the fact that we both put everything on the line and not just for a year or three years or ten years. We committed our entire lives to the art of music, poetry and songwriting. It's a bit like climbing into a small sailboat and deciding to circumnavigate the globe ...forever. The stereotype of young men suffering for their art seems quaint and slightly comical. Movies and TV lead us to believe in the inevitability of success for those struggling artists. From the outside in it's easy enough to say "just keep at it guys - you'll make it". When you're the one doing the sacrificing, however, it's not that simple. There are no guarantees and no inevitability. The farther you get from land, the more you realize you actually have to survive on that violent ocean or be lost. After a few years, you are faced with the stark reality of having to write on whatever job application you fill out for the rest of your life, "took 4 years off to become professional musician/songwriter" in one of the boxes. The longer you struggle, the bigger that number gets. Somewhere, you pass the point of no return and face the stark realization that this is now your life ...like it or not ...for better or worse. Artists of all stripes - actors, poets, writers, painters, musicians, singers, filmmakers - anyone whose living depends on the whim of public opinion eventually lands at the crossroads ..."do I keep doing this or do I cut my losses and quit while I can still do something else?" Legends keep going at all cost ...so do the homeless people living under bridges without families, who have plunged into mental illness and delusion. It's a fine line and there are no good answers at that point.
As I've aged, I've gotten more cruel and stern in my advice for young talent seeking wisdom on "how to succeed in the music business". I love to watch youngsters develop and grow into their own, but the life of a professional musician/songwriter is not easy and it would be a disservice to the youngsters to say otherwise. All the people in my life who have been truly instructive are not the ones who cheered me blindly on or dismissed me out of hand, but the ones who gave me real world advice and unflinching critique. Cindy Wilt was the first person who told me to "perfect my craft" and that my songs weren't really ready to be recorded. Cindy changed my life and I love her to this day. She's the sole reason I am what I am. Now, I could've taken that criticism and let it destroy me. It's been my experience that most people who say they want you to be brutally honest actually want no such thing at all and leave in tears. I wasn't asking Cindy for an honest critique - I've never asked for critique of any kind. I want you to record my songs. Period. But after hearing Cindy's sobering words, I could've just as easily gone the other direction and quit. Ultimately, that's what separates those who should do this from those who shouldn't. In that spirit, my first piece of advice to newcomers is to not do it under any circumstances. It's a life full of heartbreak and rejection peppered with brief moments of inexplicable success that make no sense and have no rhyme or reason whatsoever. I heard Barbara Striesand say once that she tells all young singers that they cannot do it and they don't have what it takes. They should go home and forget their dreams. If they listen to that advice, they have no business trying to do it professionally. If they tell her where to go and defy her advice, then they are cut from the right cloth and will probably make it. As much as I hate agreeing with Babs on anything, I believe she's right on this one. If my stamp of approval is what you're waiting for, you will fail miserably and be eaten alive. Only the most defiant and stubborn will make it in this business. It's not for the faint of heart or the reasonable. So I tell you you're great - then what? So I tell you you suck - then what? I'm not going to "take you under my wing" and help you along. I'm not in the business of training proteges. I ultimately couldn't care less if you make a mark in the world of music or not. If you're seeking approval, play songs for your mom and dad. I'm feeding my kids and paying my mortgage. Many people my age are running for office - some are in seats of power and changing the country and the world. Many people younger than me have developed internet companies and become billionaires. Some of my contemporaries have gone on to big and important things. I'm still just trying to make people sing, dance, laugh and cry along with my 3-minute ditties. That's my cross to bear and that's the life I chose - I will not take responsibility for making it yours. Only you can do that.
So, what IS my advice? I am weekly inundated with people on social networking sites asking me to listen to their music or their son or daughter or niece or kid at church or blah, blah, blah. I am terse and truculent in my response always. I simply don't do that for anyone. If I did, I would be doing it 8 hours a day every week. Look, I can teach you tricks of the trade of songwriting. I can offer insight that will help you write better songs and get deeper into your craft. I can help you sidestep trouble and heartache in the business. If you're looking for that short cut, however, you don't deserve it. I earned my education. Joel Lindsey and all our friends in the brotherhood and sisterhood of artists earned our stripes in the process of doing it and that's the way it should always be. My standard advice is simply this: move to a music center (NY/LA/Nashville), get a job and start doing whatever it is you want to do. Don't sign anything without having a lawyer look it over. Find out who's doing what you want to do at the highest level and emulate their process. Finally, make everyone in the world tell you that you suck before giving up. The dark nights of wondering if you're any good and if you have a future are rites of passage. If you cannot get through them unscathed, maybe this isn't the place for you.
For those who choose to set sail on the wild sea of dreams, I salute you and will wave as we ride the trade winds of fortune and misfortune together. I now have a wife and children in my boat and my face is even more hardened to the storm. I'm thankful for every island of respite I've encountered along the way that has allowed me to raise toasts, secure and repair my vessel and sleep under the palm trees for brief and precious moments. Soon enough, though, I will be battening down the hatches, trimming the sails and racing for the open water once again - salt in my nostrils and wet wind in my greying hair. The calls from shore are not heard by my focussed ear any more. I'm too far into the black billows to hear the land dwellers. I've fallen in love with the danger and uncertainty and I know that I will never return to the beach again. For those still on land contemplating the adventure, I say commit to the adventure totally or stay on land and occasionally swim in the shallow end of your local lake or river. You will be happier in the long run and there is no shame in living safely. But if you are a hearty soul, wrestling with your own sanity and willing to submit your entire life to whims of the surf, step into your sailboat and grip the rigging. Just know that you may die in the middle of the howling wind and rain. Know that the very dreams that breathe life into your sails can drag you to the bottom of the brine, never to be seen again. If you can die there with a strange little smile on your face believing that you did the right thing ...then set sail and join us. For those at sea, there is simply no other choice.
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