“…a musician who alters their material to encompass a wider audience may be labeled by fans who pre-date the change as a sellout.”

This is a slippery slope to tread on. As musicians, we are always under scrutiny and we must find a way to balance that line of “cool” and “not cool.” It’s not enough just to play or write what speaks to your heart…and if you’re going to do it publicly, you must be prepared to ultimately be judged. If your heart sways and your mind changes, you can assume that some fans will find difficulty in understanding that growth and will automatically assess it as “selling out.” 

I know that many musicians and artists simply pass this off and will continue on with their work, never paying mind to harsh, critical eyes and I applaud them for their strength. I, however, take it personally. 

Maybe that will hurt me in the end. Maybe it’s hurting me now. I worry about being misguided away from integrity and also being viewed in such a way. I also am very mindful of disrespecting supporters. But where is the balance in sustaining happiness for both your supporters and yourself?

We are the problem with the music scene. Our pride has crushed the industry and we’ve done nothing to rebuild it.

I’ve only been intimately involved with Michigan’s local music scene for the last six years. Before 2006, I was merely a fan, hopping around south-east Michigan in my teen years to tiny acoustic shows held at youth group assemblies, international acts at larger-than-life arenas and scummy bar-basement hardcore shows downtown Detroit. From these extremes to everything in between, I watched every show with a heart pumping full of hope, excitement and passion. I remember never attending a show without an empty messenger bag, because undoubtedly, I would return home that night with a bag full of the performing artist’s CD’s, shirts, stickers, patches, posters - anything I could get my hands on to remember my time watching and hearing them. Afterwards, I plastered my walls, my books, my journals, my furniture and my clothes with band paraphernalia. I was a dedicated fan of music and these bands meant the world to me. I would cut photos from Alternative Press, Amp, Spin and Rolling Stone magazines and add those to my collection, because I knew that when I looked at these pictures, I’d be reminded why I loved music; why I wanted so badly to reach out to kids like they did for me. I carried CD booklets around with me so at any given moment when I was feeling down, distressed, furied or hopeful, I could pull out those books, find relatable lyrics, copy them down in my journal so I could let those songs speak for me. When I couldn’t describe my feelings to my friends, family or boyfriends, I shared with them a song that could explain exactly what I needed to convey.

I continued to attend these shows because watching these musicians tell their stories, so vulnerable on stage with blinding spot lights and countless burning eyes glued to them, inspired me to be a stronger person. They taught me to be comfortable in my skin. They showed me that it was okay to be honest and open and let emotions surface. In turn, I trusted these musicians with everything I had. I gave my heart to them. They had substance and displayed dignity and I would have done anything in my power to be like them. And so I would write to myself, sing to myself, and keep my dreams to myself until I finally found the courage to chase them.

In college, after years of makeshift “bands” that played covers for parties and performing in various ensembles, I knew that singing the lyrics other’s had written would not be enough and that I finally had the means to make my own mark. So I became very involved with the local scene and joined my first “real” band. It wasn’t until then that I learned the truth about what goes on in the studio, back stage, behind the scenes and underneath the scrutiny. My eyes were opened to the politics of the music industry and I was disheartened by the underlying stigma that came with the involvement. Until I became a part of an original, working band, I didn’t feel or see the lack of support that suddenly showed so blatantly in the eyes of my fellow musicians.

I never did understand the competition.

I never understood the trash talking from fans and musicians alike. It goes right back to the phrase we were told as children by our mother’s and our teacher’s to avoid bullying: “if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”

We don’t make art so that everything can look the same. We certainly don’t make music if we only want to hear that same alarm clock screech each morning. Variety is so important in music - it’s astounding how many musicians bag on other musicians because they simply don’t understand a different concept. It’s downright revolting when a musician dogs another for a growing craft - none of us escaped the womb playing seamless diatonic scales or singing seven octaves with perfect vibrato with a vast knowledge of music theory to boot. We all started somewhere. Wouldn’t it be more beneficial and gratifying to teach each other than to laugh and walk away? Thanks for nothing. You’re worthless.

Before I leap off my soap-box, the most important issue that threatens to tear from my throat is the lack of recognition and compassion. Fan’s appreciate a show; many musicians don’t. I haven’t met any musician that would openly admit to not giving two-shits about watching other bands perform, but my God, they exist. Self-loving, self-seeking “artists” who only make connections to further themselves and support their personal agenda. These folks have no regard to reviving a lost local scene or reaching out to other bands. Music is supposed to be a true release and reflection of us as people to bring us together. Yes, some musicians were tossed into the industry as young children before given the chance to appreciate the passion behind it, but the rest of us started as fans! And the truest sense of the word means that we loved music for what it was: an honest expression of emotions. So many of us have forgotten what it’s like to be a fan; to be that 15 year old kid in the crowd, watching the vocalist read our mind and scream our thoughts right back to us. We forget that once someone takes the stage, their skin disappears and their insides show, and in their vulnerability, they generously hand their hearts to us. As fans, we bask in the glory and the warmth. As musicians, we stomp and spit on it with no remorse.

And for what? We kill eachother’s hope for what?

All I know is that any musician that is too prideful or pompous to support another starving artist is no friend of mine.

edityouraddictions:

My interview with Fine Fine Titans conducted on June 2 2012. This was taken after their performance at Fest Fest 2012 in Ravenna MI. We talk about the local scene and where it has gone. We tackle topics such as:

What it’s like to have a female lead in a male centric environment

The difficulties of being type-cast by venues or promoters

Where their motivation/inspiration come from

A lot of the stuff we discuss herein specifically targets the Michigan scene, so keep that in mind. They all are great people and they were very gentle with me on my first official interview. I plan on doing more stuff like this in the future, so if you like it, you can expect more.

“belief that one is deserving of or entitled to certain privileges.”

Preach that the music scene is dead.

Complain when no one comes to your show.

Cry about the lack of respect between bands.

Do this all on the internet.

Meanwhile, someone else is attending the local shows that you are not.

Meanwhile, other’s are pounding the pavement, dedicating their nights to hand out and hang up fliers, networking and making friends.

Meanwhile, another band is booking shows left and right. Shows for themselves and shows for OTHER bands (crazy, right?)

Meanwhile, someone is sharing ideas and conversations in person and NOT talking about your band.

Why? Because you are in this for yourself. You don’t give a shit about a music scene, you only care about your popularity and expect that everything will be handed to you.

You lazy, lazy motherfuckers.

So often, we talk about making music for ourselves. Whether it be a form of release, self-reflection, therapy or just a way to communicate when simple words cannot convey the complex inner workings of our mind, we write to express ourselves. However, if it were true that we solely write to pacify our need for personal gratification, why would we ever release our recordings? Why would we create a blog, publish our words, display our work or perform our music? You say you only write music for yourself? Well, we know that you’re only sticking your nose in the air to avoid smelling your own bullshit.

This truth seems to only make up a fraction of why any artist does what he or she does. We create to connect, because our survival instincts have instilled in us that in order to get by in life, we cannot do it alone. Mother Nature insists that to sustain life past our own, we must pro-create to build a community. 

I don’t know about you, but I don’t feel that my purpose in life is to spawn new creatures into an already over-populated, poisoned world. Instead of having a maternal clock, I was gifted with the inherent desire to create meaning for my existence and leave a legacy in other ways. And so, I’ve chosen to do that through music.

So we create to express, connect and hopefully leave a legacy. How do we accomplish that? Who do we want to connect with and how do we want to impact them?

Obviously, the “musician” who only enters the industry to gain admiration does, in fact, exist and unfortunately, the mass encourages the major labels to breed money-hungry, sex selling pop bunnies to get their fill of fame and fortune. Along with many other blood-sucking industry heavyweights, they do this for themselves. However, the underground (and not-so-underground) music scene is full of artists who want to make some form of positive impact on a more selfless level, but have little means to do so. Maybe instead of sleepwalking through the world, asking ourselves how to make an impact, we should delve deeper into “who?” and “why?”

“How” is easy. Sell yourself. Sell your mind, your body, your soul and you’ll be fine, wallowing away in your own misery, unaffected by the rest of the world. Good for you! You did this for yourself! But as soon as you ask yourself, “why do I make music? What am I trying to convey?” you may find yourself falling short with only pennies to spare.

So, as one musician to the next, I encourage you! In fact, I dare you to ask yourself: “Who will care? Who will my music, my art and my message affect?”

If the answer is only you, you’re doing it wrong.