While the corporate world and almost everyone else are out of the office for the holidays, I often struggle with this forced “downtime”; as a full-time musician, I’m never not working. I’m either plugging my next show, looking for the next film placement, writing a song, scheduling a band rehearsal, calling booking companies, or, at the very least, thinking about one of these things. Normally, most of the things we do as musicians are hard to do when the entire music industry is hibernating for a week, and an inbox full of “out of office” auto replies is simply useless to me. So how can we capitalize on this time of year? Continue reading
5 Steps to Getting Un-Stuck
Writing, for me, is like running. They are both good for me, yet they both take a marching band-sized cheering squad to get me started when I’m feeling stuck.
The amount of debating, procrastinating, dodging, and fidgeting I do when I know it’s time to write or put on my running shoes, is ridiculous. I’ve been on my own, making a living and getting my own gigs for YEARS. You’d think being a freelance composer and an independent artist (not to mention a personal trainer back in the day) would require mad discipline and skills to overcome being stuck, and the temptations of procrastination. So why have I been feeling so stuck lately?? Like I’m staring at a brick wall? Continue reading
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The Baby Commitment
It’s been a while since I’ve written. You’ve heard this before, right? From other artists whose mailing lists you are on. Maybe you’ve heard it from a friend over email. Or perhaps you’ve written it yourself. The cause of such a hiatus, I have observed, is usually due to the creation of something that takes all of one’s energy and attention. I’ve heard it from my friends who just had a baby. And I’ve heard it from friends who were looking, and then finally bought a house. And I’m writing it now, to you, because I released a record.
For the past year and a half I felt like I was at war. Or at least in a very intense wrestling match… With myself, with my bank account, with my loved ones, with my music, my lyrics, with everything. It felt dramatic, pressurized, urgent, as if this was IT, the last chance, the final statement. Very theatrical, I know. Really, what was happening, is that I was making an album. That’s all.
I’ll have another post soon about my exact process of raising $25,000 from fans and sponsors to fund the record, and the process of selling the demo versions on my site via a pay-what-you-want model prior to the record being released. For now, I’m writing to you to transition back into the world of touring, record-promotion, music supervisor-pitching, fan-gathering, and whatever it is this blog does for you.
I’m in San Francisco, staying with a friend and her baby. It’s funny. I’m not a big fan of babies, in general. (This one is particularly cute and chill, and doesn’t scream and cry, so I approve.) I’m not a fan, yet I’m constantly comparing my new records, songs and creative process to them. The analogy is sort of obvious, with all the preparation and care and love and nausea, then the post-birth nursing and tending and trying to get into the best nursery school / licensing library so it can flourish and be successful. But the sentiment is there for both: undying love and passion for the thing you created, tied up with attachment.
This is where the baby analogy and I part ways. I’ve learned that the word attachment is something to be wary of. Being attached to my record, and how “successful” it needs to be has, in the past, put blinders on me. I came up with what it’s supposed to look like, what I should be doing by now, who I should be touring with, how much money I should have made off of it by now, which cuts off any possibility that something else can come in and work. (By the way, should is the cousin of attachment. Caution: use with care, or not at all.) Just being committed to my record’s success keeps me moving forward and taking the appropriate actions, yet without the desperation, urgency, feeling of constant need, and pressure that being attached was producing.
To put this in reality: I am open to have my record’s success come from anywhere. I take on all opportunities, from providing a song to a blog’s video project and helping edit the video, to calling up my favorite clothing store and asking them if i can get my music in their store’s library. I visit friends in far away cities, and look up every licensing company and music-related company in the area. Today I have a meeting with 2 music supervision companies. Tomorrow I’m getting a private tour of Pandora Radio. I have no idea what will come out of any of it, but taking action, being open-minded, and just immersing myself in the industry, the companies that are making things happen, and in relationships that are positive, progressive and supportive will yield some sort of fruit, I’m sure. Whether it’s apples or oranges doesn’t matter. Like most parents-to-be say when asked “do you want a boy or a girl?” I just want it to be healthy.
“Exposure” Exposed: 6 Ways to Create It Yourself
exposure |ikˈspō zh ər|
noun
• an act or instance of being uncovered
The unseen artist yearns to be seen. The unheard musician needs to be heard, and the under budget company wants to under pay everyone. While this may be more of my more cynical points of view, I’d like to start off by saying that while promises of “exposure” in exchange for goods (in this article, for the sake of argument, we’ll use a track off your recent, self-released record) is usually a scam, that is not always the case. My tour mate Shaun Ruymen has a track in the new movie “You Again”, and he most certainly has a great chance of exposure. The opportunities for exchanging your music for real, mass exposure are out there, rare as they are.
That being said, I move on. MOST of the time, when promised exposure in exchange for use of your track, chances are it’s because there’s no chance of being paid. And in most areas of the music business where there is an audience (a real audience, where you will really get said exposure), there is usually money. The PROs (performing rights organizations like ASCAP, BMI and SESAC) are close behind, ready to collect your royalties. Rarely will you find an opportunity that gives you REAL exposure with no money attached. You have more chance of finding a gig that pays really well but doesn’t offer much of a new fan base, or exposure. (Like college cafeteria shows and ski resorts, for example. Paying the bills [and dues] but not necessarily getting your music heard the way you would like.)
The thing about the word exposure, is that it is just “an instant”. Extreme exposure can give you 15 minutes of fame, at best. What your music needs is to be steady, ubiquitous, available, and constantly pumped into listeners ears. You know how to do that. And if not, here are my 6 tips:
1) Tour. Hit the road and get new fans. Done and done.
2) Share. Give away recordings of new songs you did in your bedroom for free. Write a blog about what you’re up to. Let the world know you love what you’re doing, or when you’re struggling, or that you’re succeeding past your wildest dreams!
3) Co-write. Two heads are better than one. Two records are too.
4) Hire an intern. Have this person’s sole purpose to be to get you exposure- write articles about you and send press releases. Pay them a % of your CD sales and don’t take them for granted. Bring them with you when you make it big.
5) Get out of the house. Go to shows. Go to music conferences. Make friends with the panelists. Get on a panel next time. Your name gets in every brochure and website about the conference.
6) Go to the movies. Look on craigslist for recent auditions for movies. Get in touch with the directors/producers and offer your music. The more music you place in films, the more likely you get a film going to Sundance. Always make sure to get a little money for your music, even if it’s just $100. (I’m personally training the indie film industry to respect how important music is in films, thus to pay for it like they would an editor or director)
In the end, it’s about attaching value to your music, not letting “the industry” take advantage or undercut that value, and finding the balance between trading your value for something else of equal value. Often times, exposure is an unknown, unreliable empty promise that you cannot forward to your tax guy at the end of the year. Seller beware.
PS. Get it in writing. Before it goes to air on national television, before it gets sold on someone else’s compilation CD and before you lose an opportunity. Do not be afraid to take a stand for your music and its value.
The Task of Asking
When I was little I got to hamster-sit. It was thrilling. I watched the little guy run around on that wheel like his little life depended on it. I had the idea that he may have a lot more fun running around in my room. He was not interested. I’m guessing that my room, filled with new experiences, textures, sights and sounds, was too scary. Obviously, this hamster hadn’t met the two mice from “Who Ate My Cheese?”.
I sat down to write an article about taking action through making requests, and this hamster was the first thing that popped into my head. Instead of figuring that out, I’ll just assume that my life has been a little bit like his. I feel busy. I run on that wheel like my life depends on it. I stay busy. But busy in the way that keeps me from getting big. The big that I know I have the potential to be. The logistics of staying small are quite voluminous.
We all know this type of busy… Booking small tours at coffee shops and ski resorts, making calls to get on-air radio performances at community colleges near my gigs, sending useless emails to labels and management companies, trying to enroll people in my awesomeness, or at least, the potential I have for making a profit because of my awesomeness, spending hours editing my live videos, thinking that a good edit will get me my next big gig. Spending hours perfecting charts that don’t need perfecting, vacuuming (too often), organizing, stressing, facebooking, day jobs, part time jobs. Need I go on? All of it is busy for the sake of being busy. Even being a perfectionist is a form of procrastination. This busy isn’t really going to make a difference, in the long run. When have I ever gotten a big gig from someone watching my video?
What this kind of work does for me is it makes me feel productive, but in the end I feel empty, unsuccessful and lazy. Yes, lazy. Because what I have figured out over the past few years is that I, like the hamster, am avoiding what is really out there for me to do. The comfort of “being a starving artist” is overwhelmingly powerful. I don’t know anything else. Who would I be if I actually did succeed? That is scarier than struggling with paying rent each month. It sounds stupider than anything I’ve ever written before, but it’s true.
Living into my potential has been a goal for as long as I can remember. The first line of my first song off my first album is “orphaned by potential”. Get good grades, go to a good college so you can stand on your own two feet. Well, mom, does standing on my feet count when I’m standing on a melting iceberg?
Before this thing melts for good, I’m determined to take the leap I needed to take years ago. The thing about leaps… it’s not a process, it’s a complete 180 degree shift that happens now. And now. And now. I have started closing the deals, asking for specific results, being effective in my requests. Not just inspiring people and getting them “very interested” in my and my music so that over time we’ll build a relationship, but actually getting them to sign the deal, have the meeting, show me the money. Instead of just calling the management company and say “I’m a good artist and I work my butt off”, I call them and say, “when can we meet”? I send my composing reel to ad agencies and film directors and ask them when they anticipate their next project to come in and what is the easiest way for me to get them my music. I ask my fans to help me make my music, specifically through monetary donations. I keep an organized database of people I’ve met at music conferences and every six months, I get in contact with them and ask if they any projects I could collaborate on with them. This kind of “asking” has resulted in my music playing on 10 different TV show episodes, editors placing my music on nationally-airing ads, and invitations to perform on tours that are already booked. The real result? I’m doing less work for more rewards.
I’m becoming [gasp] successful.
The breakthrough was when it registered in my little hamster brain that if I kept spinning my wheels, nothing would change. I would continue to miss opportunities, feel left out, frustrated, underpaid, under stimulated, overworked, and generally uninspired. As a sense of urgency for change crept in, I got clear that I had to create a context of fearlessness, creativity and freedom for myself and let this new context propel my next actions.
That wheel was really getting boring, and getting me nowhere.
Freedom Flyers
I remember a few years ago when the kinks of American Airlines’ on-flight Wi-Fi were being worked out and I was lucky to be on a flight where the internet was free. Today, not so much. And while I’m disappointed by the teasing Wi-Fi signs that mention nothing of the $12.00 fee, I figure I’ve got my computer out and booted up, so I may as well write something. So here are some thoughts on this particular voyage. I’m 30,000 feet above sea level with intention of landing at 6500 feet above sea level and remaining there for a week. I didn’t have to take time off work. I didn’t have to email my boss. I didn’t have to move things around. I just booked a flight.
The pre-flight anxiety I felt yesterday explains to me that I do, in fact, have someone to report to: myself. Not the self that Seth Godin and Steven Pressfield call the “Resistance”, the part of me that loves random trips to Wyoming, procrastination, and anything that leads me away from putting myself on the line and continuing to pursue a precariously unconventional career in music. Nope, I report to my creative entrepreneur, the part of me that knows I have music to write, gigs to book and a mark to make. This part of me gets anxious before my trips and says things like “have you worked hard enough to deserve this?” and “you will be missing so many opportunities while you are away, are you crazzzzy?”. This part of me is almost as bad as the Resistance, although not quite as self-destructive. It stresses me out to the core only because I don’t know the answers to its questions. That, and it is drenched in irony. I mean, this double-checking, schedule-following “artistic” part of me was the one who craved freedom in the first place, right? The side of me that became so overwhelming visionary I couldn’t do anything but create? The part of me that woke up and chose what would happen that day? So why is it now the thing that makes me uneasy when exercising my freedom?
Sometimes I think it’s all about money. If I had some great source of passive income that would be deposited into my bank account no matter what I did, perhaps the voices in my head would pipe down and get along. If I had that financial freedom, I often wonder if I would be able to live my life guilt-free. (Though, knowing my drama-driven neurosis, I’d probably create some other upset.) The only freedom I feel these days is that from gluten. So if my hypocritically creative side would sit back, enjoy the flight, and remember that IT got me here in the first place, I’d much appreciate it. Thank you for sharing, I’d like some more peanuts please.
Extraordinary Fences: Hosting the Circle
as written for Song Circle Music
When I got the email from Tina Shafer (New York Songwriter’s Circle founder) asking me to guest host the Circle at New York’s famous Bitter End, I was beyond honored. This is the thing… I’ve played the Bitter End a dozen times, and performed in both the New York and Philly Circles several times. What made this Circle so special to me was that I didn’t feel I did anything extraordinary to warrant such an invitation. For years, I was a fairly normal indie artist on one side of the fence. The people on the other side were those who choose contest winners, picked singers for publishing deals, got musicians on commercials.
Let me explain. It’s not that I don’t think I AM extraordinary. Clearly, I’m fabulous. But I didn’t win any contests, get any major record deal, or have anyone dance to a song of mine on So You Think You Can Dance. I was a finalist in the first year of the Songwriter’s Circle contest back in 2006, but I didn’t even get top three. Since then, I’ve just been a familiar face, popping up in a Circle every half year, stopping by the Bitter End on the occasional Monday night to say hi. Something about this led to being a part of the new version of the Songwriter’s Circle: Song Circle. I’ve been a very small part of helping the company in various ways, including sharing my thoughts on this crazy industry on their website’s blog. Now I can’t enter my tunes to their annual contest, but I am able to judge others’, if I want. Again, feeling mildly unworthy. Yeah, I write a lot of songs, I collaborate a fair amount, and I think I understand mainstream pop, acoustic and rock music more than the average Joe. Still, I doubt my extraordinariness… Maybe being on the other side of the fence is where I am supposed to be eventually, and transitioning there is tricky… I sometimes feel like I am just about to successfully climb over the top when my pants get caught up in the picket stakes making said fence. Awkward.
Before I arrived at the Bitter End to host my first Circle, I gave myself a pep talk…. Okay Cheryl, NO awkward. You’re here for a reason.
And this is what I realized- there is no fence. That’s what’s special about Song Circle. It’s made up of people like me, artists who tour and record and are passionate and working many angles of the industry, trying to “make it”, whatever that means to them. I am the fence. I’m an example of the Song Circle community as a whole- that without even winning a contest, by merely entering, I was given the opportunity to host a world-famous event. Extraordinary.
Cheryl (on left, standing, with other Song Circle artist 8/2/2010) graduated from Cornell University and is now a singer/songwriter and film and commercial composer. She’s recorded two records and is working on a third project, “One Up”, releasing monthly songs all year. Cheryl has been featured in Keyboard and Performer magazines, toured through America and Europe, performed on ABC, NBC and FOX news, spoken at SXSW, and has had her music placed on soap operas, PBS and MTV shows. More info at www.cbemusic.com.
Listen to Cheryl’s new music and click on 10 stars if you like it!!
Homemade Acoustic Treatment
When my roommate moved out of his portion of our 3-bedroom Harlem apartment, I packed up my stuff and moved too…. into the other two rooms while giving my old room to a new roommate. One of my new rooms is slowly turning into a studio. A real space where I can write, record and produce my music. Of all the upgrades I need (the list includes a new computer, printer, audio interface, cables), I chose to start with the room itself. As the corner room of my apartment building, the room is quiet, but full of echos when empty. I reserved one corner of the room for vocal recording, then decided to treat the big wall above the couch as a reflective surface- the spot where sound would be bouncing most directly from my speakers. I wanted to spice up the vibe of the room as well as make any decorations acoustically useful. Thus began my project. Continue reading
LOST and found
It’s very hard to get people to like you. Welp, I should speak for myself. Not being the cool kid in high school taught me that early on. Fact: Being president of the drama club and starting a school recycling program does not win you an invitation to the hockey team parties. To get people to like you enough to buy your music, come to your show and donate some of their hard-earned money to support your artistic endeavor, no matter how positively inspiring and worthy, seems like the last path a socially nonchalant individual should follow. Yet here I have found myself.
For the last five months, I’ve been getting more and more excited every time the 23rd rolls around. Today, my excitement was exasperated by 3 sleepless nights in the studio mixing, stressing and cooing over a new song. And now that it’s out in the world, I feel like a fan after the series finale of LOST… empty, sad, strangely satisfied, wondering what’s next and overall just pooped.
I made a promise to myself last December that I would feel full of purpose all year long in 2010. So I created ONE UP, my project to write and release inspiring songs all year long. With some anxiety around my February 23rd birthday (which gets worse every year) I decided that these songs would be released on the 23rd of every month. So far, fans have been helping fund the production and every song, to me, is really, truly one upping the last ones. Yet the irony of today is I released “Trust Me”, one of my most rocking, anthemic tunes ever, and I feel like a hypocrite asking the world to listen to my music when we’re all crying our eyes out about the final episode of LOST. Very anti-climatic for me. Listen to the song and you’ll know what I mean. If you were a LOST fan, the feeling is pretty much identical.
Completion is final. Story lines end. Chord progressions resolve. The thing that makes endings less debilitating is the prospect of new beginnings. Or a new project, new TV series, a new song, a new interaction, a new bond. That’s what fans are to musicians and television shows- relationships. I found a relationship with the characters, the scripts and the music of LOST. I’d like to think that some people have a relationship with my music- they found it, got some sort of emotional payoff from listening to it, and perhaps come to a show or read my blog every once in a while to nurture it. And it’s highly likely that my fan has a fan. It’s a long chain, or perhaps a cycle, of seemingly one-sided involvement and admiration (the creators of LOST have no idea I exist). And at the same time, the relationship exists because there are two sides (they are, after all, writing a show to appeal to people like me). In high school, I really did want to go to those parties, but knew my interest was not reciprocated. Perhaps that is why I am writing this- to let you know that I found you and I want to connect with you, and that I value this relationship, and that whatever form it takes, it is reciprocated.