Tag: art

new failures

In my artistic life – a life that I wish wasn’t so separate from my daily life – I’m in a pretty crazy world.

By a very real and tangible metric, I’ve successfully put out roughly a dozen albums. Each one has successfully surpassed reach and influence of the previous. I’ve had music on indie charts. I’ve made music videos. My current band has successfully sold out copies of first vinyl release. I’ve successfully toured internationally as a performing and recording artist. I’ve sold out shows in this country and in Mexico. And I’ve successfully learned new lessons from each experience.

By another very real and tangible metric, I’ve never sold enough albums or had enough steams to make myself eligible for a Juno or a Grammy… meaning that every album I’ve released has sold poorly, failing to meet the criteria for those awards. I’ve never had a hit song. The album we sold out of had very low production numbers, so was a low target. Technically, our international touring adventure earlier this year lost money.

Every musical success I’ve had could be called a failure in the same breath.

There’s an interesting phenomenon that happens with hit songs. If you have a song perform well – say, #15 on a billboard chart, and the next one does even better – let’s say #12 on the billboard chart, things are; by definition, going very well for you. However, if you have a song go to #1, and the next song doesn’t crack the top 10, you get labelled as a has-been pretty quickly.

In a similar way, a restaurant owner I’ve known once said that he wouldn’t want to be the #1 restaurant in town (according to a local publication) because getting bumped from the top spot – which WILL happen – makes for declining value. He was content with consistently being (and his restaurant was) #2 or #3 for years.

Local musicians often suffer from what’s been referred to as hometown prophet syndrome. This is a situation where you have a difficult time drawing a crowd to a performance in your home town because the perception is that people can see you anytime, so what you’re doing isn’t special. But, to perform a few towns over can be a guaranteed barn-burner of a show, mainly due to the fact that a great performer can show up and blow minds and get a reaction like “where did these guys even come from?” which is a stark contrast to the hometown music scene who’s been watching that performer get on stage and just suck, while gradually grinding it out and honing their craft to near perfection without anyone really taking notice.

My band an I are embarking on a new recording adventure. We’re going back to the drawing board with a few things, and revising our approach to recording while working up a new batch of songs for what will no doubt be an album that we will release. In that way, it will be a success. We’ve done it before and we’ll do it again.

How that album will perform, we sincerely hope, will be better than any of our previous efforts. The challenge will be to go back through every misstep we’ve taken and improve upon every bad idea we’ve ever followed through on, and amplify the good ideas we’ve barely scratched the surface of.

Addressing the shortcomings of the past is hard, but it’s how growth is achieved and it’s as painful as it is necessary.

I can’t wait to learn how to improve this.

After 30 years, I am still improving.

attentive

In my artistic life – not that I segregate my life, but certain things require a singular focus and art is one of those things – my band and I are embarking on another recording project.

To date, we’ve released 3 full length albums and essentially 3 EPs, and I’ve essentially lost count of the ‘sessions’ we’ve done because (a) there’s been a lot of them, and (b) my memory is not great most of the time and these things tend to run together, especially when it’s been the same 3 guys, and pretty much historically has happened in the same studio. We’ve also done a bonkers amount of rehearsal recordings.

Sometime next year, we’ll take our artistry and duplicate it a whole bunch of times and turn it into a product to be bought & sold. It’ll become a commodity that people can have an opinion on, and they’ll determine if it holds up to our other albums, and at some point someone will say they liked our “old stuff” better, which will add a linear element to all of this, thereby making us feel old or something.

But for now, we make art. We set up microphones and baffles and headphone mixes and we flush out chord progressions and ramblings and churn them into songs. There will be pounding drums and loud guitar amplifiers and we’ll allow our imaginations to take us into strange places. We’ll weave together poetry and bent strings and interesting rhythms and low frequencies and our dreams will stretch our further than our shadows.

Working a job in between recording sessions is brutal, but we’ll do it because it’s the part of the process we can’t do without just yet. The transition from the top of our creative mindframe to the of an exhausted and underslept worker and back again is so painfully humbling, yet necessary.

Months later, a critic will refer to our efforts as “fairly country” or “chaotic” and if we’re lucky, both of those terms in the same sentence – but that’s in the future, and we don’t live in the future, we live in the now, and now is the time for art. Now is the time when we redefine and reframe the way we’re perceived by the world, designing a work that will give us another shot at notoriety. We fully believe it will propel us further, but how much further is not yet determined.

I have to focus on the art right now, though imagining a future in which this artist work already exists is such a beautiful distraction.
Now is the time for focus.
Now is the time to be attentive.
Now is the time for art – while completely disregarding the future possibilities.

We can’t create art for the future, this is a snapshot of the present.

The future will take care of itself.

The future happens anyway.

keep pushing

The last little while has been a veritable firehose of creativity coming at me, or through me, or however it comes out. I feel like I am part antenna, plucking poetic metaphors from the sky, while simultaneously spitting out verse and peeling off chord patterns and riffs like they’re going to rot if I don’t get them contained.

It’s both inspiring and perplexing.

When records are made, there’s often a feeling of dread and doubt looming beneath the skin, perpetually asking questions like “what if this isn’t good enough?” and “what if you never make another record?” and I know this to be true because I’ve heard other songsmiths say it out loud, but the past few records I’ve made haven’t been like that at all. I know for a fact that I’ll make more and I have a dozen professional releases behind me to illustrate how that happens, but lately I’ve been feeling like the recording(s) that my band is about to start work on are actually really important.

There’s nothing “right now” about these songs, as far as subject matter. On the contrary, I find that records tend to be a marker in time – sort of a “this is what it was like that year” rather than something that affixes itself to a time & place and becomes irrelevant with the changing times. (By that token, if you want to know what my life felt like in 2010-2012 was like, take a listen to the Fuzz Kings releases that came out in 2013 & 2014. If you want them on vinyl, I’ll be happy to furnish you with them.)

Anyway, I have no idea what ‘really important’ even means. Will it propel me forward as an artist? I certainly hope so… I can’t imagine it not doing so, really. Will it top charts? influence media? challenge the status quo? I am certain that I have no idea. “Important” doesn’t always mean successful, and nothing is guaranteed in this life and in this industry. And I know as well as anyone that sometimes people don’t find your record until it’s 10 years old… maybe older.

I don’t think it’s happenstance that I’m posting this as I encroach on 2 years clean & sober. October 22nd, 2019 I had my last drink (in excellent company, mind you). A couple weeks prior to that I was pulling over on Highway 2 to throw up into the ditch multiple times on my way back from a music conference. I’m not here to tell anyone to drink or not drink, but I can tell you that in my case, it’s resulted in being much more present in my performances, much more present in my songwriting, and much more present in my interactions with people. It’s interesting that it’s also the anniversary of this blog, and the anniversary of the day I moved into my house… all happening in different years, and unintentionally.

What I do know is that this is what I am supposed to be doing right now, and this is the frame of mind I am supposed to be in. We can talk about destiny, or the illusion of free will if you like, but all I know is that it feels really good to be right where I am supposed to be.

I cant wait to share my art with you.

receiving

I’ve recently returned from a trip with my family. My immediate family… we cast off the shackles of conventional work, boarded an international flight bound for Denver, Colorado and spent the better part of 4 days taking in a heaping helping of life affirming adventures.

The notion for the trip started with my daughter wanting to attend a concert that way coming to town that; if we’d have gone ahead with it, would have been the very first time any of us bought a ticket for a single concert that crested the $1000 mark. None of us could justify it, even that artist’s biggest fan in the house wanted to spend her hard-earned part-time paycheck on such an extravagant outing. I told her “I bet we could get on an airplane and see someone cooler for less money” and as much as I lost that bet by a country mile, we forged ahead with reckless abandon.

We bought tickets to Tyler Childers in Boulder, as all of his Canadian dates were sold out – but an open-air Saturday night concert in Boulder, right up close to the Rocky Mountains sounded like a good plan. We made ourselves a long weekend of it, stayed in a hotel I never would have gotten for myself, and threw down on thrift-store shopping, great food, concert merch, car services, $7 lattes, and at the almost-last-minute, we decided to add another concert ticket to the tab, and got to see Sierra Farrell at The Mission Ballroom while we were in Colorado as well.

I had a great trip with my gals, and my daughter is still beaming through the exhaustion from this whirlwind adventure. It was 100% worth it.

The part that I couldn’t put an earthly value on, was completely losing myself in the most life-affirming way. The type of show that would make a weaker musician give up entirely made me want to play more, write more, tour more, and push my own boundaries more than ever.

My soul was fed and nurtured by both of those incredible artists and I’ve never been more sure of what I’m supposed to be doing… and make no mistake – I was really sure before.

I was given a gift in my attendance of these shows that I won’t soon forget. I am eternally grateful.

mindful action

I recently heard a comedian talk about ‘mindfulness’ and the buzz around that word in the context of being aged in a tech-forward time. He’d stated that the notion of being mindful wasn’t a thing 30 years ago because if you had to ride the bus somewhere, all you really had to entertain you was the other people on the bus or the view out the window, and if when you got where you were going – say, a movie or something – and the person you were meeting got there 20 minutes later than you, your only option was to wait.

You might have had a portable music player but they were so horribly inefficient at that time that you might get 4 hours of cassette play out of a set of batteries, and that carrying around what would eventually be a dead walkman was actually a hassle.

So you were forcibly “in the moment” more often than not.

Now, we have mass distraction whenever we want it. We have a casino, weed shop, strip club, 24-hour sports channel, and tabloid in our pockets at all times and we can constantly see what other people are doing, or even spend an incredible amount of time planning and uploading a selfie.

We have the option to never be in the moment again, as our brains can constantly be elsewhere.

This is why art is so important to me.
When I’m writing this, it’s all I’m doing.
When I’m playing guitar – for people or not – it’s all I’m doing.
When I’m running – it’s all I’m doing.

I’ve long time been a proponent of delving into a thing – running, for example – and being in that state as long as possible, connecting with nature and seeing what can happen at the edge of my capabilities, but I’m coming to understand that it’s more than that.

It’s also meditative, and present.

If I’m not present when I’m running, or riding a bike, I fall. If I’m not present when I’m performing or practicing, I give a lousy performance. I have to be focused and meditative in order to get the job done.

If I’m driving a car while looking at my phone, it’s incredibly dangerous – yet people still have massive struggles with putting the phone down and being present… and as far as I can see, it’s because they’re out of practice. Even in conversation with someone else – if we are watching my phone at the same time, we’re cheating both parties out of this experience and fellowship, and possibly even showing disrespect.

Mindfulness is a muscle that needs to be exercised, not only to keep it strong, but to prevent it from becoming week.

It might sound crazy – even after 3 years of writing this blog, but I’m 42 years old and I’m (still / again) learning how to be alone with myself.

don’t sell yourself short

I’ve been selling myself short for most of my life. You probably have, too, but I can’t speak to that other than to say that as a species, we seem to have a tendency to resign ourselves to our own misery, and as cheap compensation, we give ourselves a dopamine hit as frequently as possible.

I’m certainly guilty of this despite my propensity to ‘do hard things’ but for me there has historically been some disconnect between physically doing hard things that are maybe kinda scary, and doing hard things on a spiritually-fulfilling level, like saying no to shitty gigs, or being confident.

A few years ago, I cleaned up my act. I started giving my body the nutrition it needs to thrive and stopped numbing myself to life, and a crazy thing happened. I felt young. That’s not a tangible thing as I type it, but the only way I can explain it is to say that I removed the things in my life that were holding me back the most, and I started to become more energetic and vital.

Energy and vitality weren’t the only things that came back though… the dreams I had as a young teenager came back – those pie in the sky things that I’d eventually talked myself out of over the years came back, and I had the energy to prioritize them, and believe them, and chase them in a way that was impossible 25 years ago.

Nothing happens overnight, but I just returned from an international tour with my band, and our next move is to play the 2 Canadian dates with legit Psychobilly legends The Nekromantix next weekend, before we play with Luke Doucet’s (Whitehorse, Sarah Mclachlan) old band VEAL and play a handful of festival shows. Confusionaires are now booking into 2025.

This is all very small compared to where I see it going, but a few years ago it wouldn’t have only been unattainable for me, but I also would have had a massive chip on my shoulder about someone else having these opportunities.

I feel optimistic.
I feel love.

Thanks for sharing in my joy this morning.

you are the one

I like to run, and I like to run long. I can do a 30-45 minute jog and feel okay about it, satisfied that I did what needed doing… but if I can get 90 minutes or more, then I’m happy.

Sometimes I run in total silence… these runs help me finish songs or solve vintage automobile problems, often because my headphones are dead.
Most times, I run with podcasts or audiobooks. Anything from Ernest Hemingway to David Goggins… Rich Roll, Andrew Huberman, et al. A lot of endurance athletes cut with philosophy, or science, 12-step, and the occasional novel to keep my brain in motion.

I invite and allow these things to speak wisdom and creativity into my life.

The recurring message I’ve been receiving as of late is “you are the one you’ve been waiting for.” I’ve taken to doing hard things as a physical challenge for some years now, but a couple months ago I decided to gamble on myself in a much more vulnerable way – with my art.

I booked my band (Confusionaires) into a theatre that would potentially put us in front of one of the biggest (indoor) audiences we’ve ever played for if we sold it out. Beyond that, the theatre organization didn’t book us…I booked us. I rented the room, and then proceeded to jump through every hoop in order to make the show happen. Then… as if that wasn’t enough, I did the same in 2 other smaller theatres.

A week before the shows, I got a ticket count from all 3 venue box offices, and found out that we’d moved enough tickets in presale that all my expenses were covered and then some. This alleviated a pile stress that I didn’t even realize I was carrying. I was never concerned with selling those venues out to capacity – but I thought it’d be nice if we made enough to (a) cover our expenses, and (b) help fund out tour in Mexico the following month. That’s the tour I’m on right now as this is being posted.

I rolled the dice on myself and I won. Nobody swooped in to save me because that wasn’t an option. Sure, I would have recovered from the financial setback eventually, but that’s not the point. The point is that I set out to break new ground, and I did – and in so doing I’ve elevated the status of The Confusionaires beyond where we’d previously been. We’ve established our value as an artistic entity of value, and I couldn’t e more proud – not only of myself for pushing my own envelope – but to my boys Jayson & Adam for delivering a show worthy of the ticket price we were asking for.

Some really great things are coming for this band and I’m excited to share them as they get closer to their reveal date.

I am the one I was waiting for.