RADIO, AND ITS USELESSNESS…

When I’m sick, I get real bitchy. So here’s another rant.

I saw complaints about some radio station dude saying they never play songs by two girl singers in a row because you don’t want too many tomatoes in your salad. Yes, it’s annoying; it’s misogynist. But what makes you think that dude has any control over what’s played on the air?

Poster for the Blue Heron gig June 5.

When John Fisher and I went “on tour” with 1,000 freshly-minted 45-rpm records with “Paradise” on one side and Ed Hargadine’s “Conservationist” on the other, we hit every rural radio station in Oregon and Washington. The issue got us in the door, and often got us interviewed—the “Gorge Wars” would be “hot” for nine years. We left a 45 for the DJ; that’s how it was done. If the DJ liked it, he’d play it; if people requested it, he’d play it a lot. We knew “Paradise” was getting played a lot because we saw news articles in big-city papers saying so(!).

There was one radio station we visited that couldn’t take our record. There was one person in the building—a girl behind a desk—and a gigantic reel-to-reel tape player that took up an entire wall. She told us every day UPS delivered a new 24-hour tape to all the stations this outfit owned, and her job was to switch tapes. And I remember thinking, “This is the future of the radio business.”

Fast forward to 2004. My weekly 300-mile commute to my city-manager job in Union (OR) takes me through a gigantic desolate area where I can pick up only four radio stations, two in Oregon and two in Washington, all owned by ClearChannel. Those four stations not only play the same 20 songs, they play them at the same time.

A “bigger is better” mindset has been dominating nearly every field of endeavor for a while now, and music has been no exception. I don’t know how many people control radio broadcasting (I only know that ClearChannel looks very big); I understand there are only three record companies now, though. There are a couple of side effects to this “bigger is better” thing that matter to me:

Those local DJs used to be the talent filters for the music business. You called the DJ, you requested a song, and he played it. You can’t do that any more. The person you reach (if you do) at the radio station has as much control over what’s being played as that girl above changing those 24-hour tapes.

Those DJs were also where an aspiring musician, band, or writer first got heard; you or your manager gave a record to the DJ, and if the DJ liked it, he’d play it. And if people requested it, it’d get played a lot. A lot of famous musicians got their start this way—Elvis, Buddy Holly… Chuck Berry even wrote a song about it. People like that aren’t going to surface from the grassroots any more, because there’s no one they can give their record to.

I’m not going to go all Bernie Sanders and maintain “big is bad” (though I think it is, and has been), and will simply point out that wherever the current crop of “hits” and “stars” came from, it wasn’t you and me, because we have no way of saying what we want. I think there’s been a significant and obvious drop in product (i.e, songs) quality as a result of “bigger is better,” but I have no way to tell the people who might be in a position to do something about it. I don’t even know who they are.

There are some bright spots. The local radio station in these parts has “The Morning Show” with a live DJ, a long tradition which is very popular—and I know the guy, and he has played my stuff. There’s a little FM station in southern Oregon that still has live DJs with their own playlists, and I know one of the DJs there, and he’s played my stuff on occasion, too. Opportunities like that exist—I know other people who are using similar ones. They are just very few and far between.

If “terrestrial” radio is useless now, what about Internet radio? I don’t know; I don’t think we have any where I live, but there seems to have been quite a proliferation of these little independent things lately. As a general rule, if the thing is run by a real person, who will listen to your stuff and play it if he likes it, it’s worth a shot.

And with that, I believe I am done being bitchy for a while, and will go back to bed. It is still the middle of the night here, and I am trying to get over my Crud in time for the Blue Heron show Friday—five days from now.

Joe

I WAS HUNGRY…

Gig in SIX days…

Woke up this morning—in the middle of the night, actually—unable to get back to sleep, and figured out after an hour what it was that woke me up. I was hungry. I haven’t been hungry in almost a week, ever since I came down with The Crud that seems to have infected lots of people.

Because of the pill-taking schedule I’m on, I can’t eat for another 1-1/2 hours, and I know the hunger thing won’t let me sleep; what’s a body to do? Well, what writers do is write. Good morning (or whatever time of day it is where you are) to anyone who might be listening (or wanting to).

While I was sick, Tico Marimba got two more gigs, both in June (Thursday, June 4 and Wed., June 24). Both are afternoon performances, so I can fit them easily into the rest of my schedule. My solo performance at the Tillamook Relay for Life is confirmed; they want me to be the closing act, 8:00 to 9:30 Sunday morning, July 12 (nice that they think I’d make an appropriate finale), and I’ll plan on giving ‘em a memorable show. As a cancer survivor (thus far), it’s important for me to be there and do this.

If I happen to win first prize in that Woody Guthrie Songwriting Contest, and have to perform on stage at their thing in Okemah, Oklahoma—only their first prize winner is required to do this, and I would be really surprised if that was me—their festival is July 8-12, and I could go there only if I could guarantee I could be back in plenty of time to perform “at Relay.” If not, I’m sorry, but they’ll have to give the prize to someone else. I has Priorities.

A quick-and-dirty poster is done for the new round of square dance classes starting Wed., June 10 at the Elks. (I can make it look better, but I’ll have to re-do the whole design from scratch. Between my scanner, my printer, my PageMaker software, and me, all of which are old, one or more of us just isn’t that perfect.)

I have lesson plans drawn out up through Lesson Five, but I need to take it further than that; if the new “kids” learn fast, we’ll be up to Lesson Five in a couple of weeks. I need a lot more singing-call music, too, to incorporate new moves as I teach them.

And if no one shows up at the new classes? (That’s a distinct possibility, it being summer, and Tourist Season and all.) At that point, I think the “angels” are going to want to keep dancing (and I’d encourage that), and I’d treat the weekly sessions as an opportunity for them to train the caller—let me try out new stuff and see how well it works. I really do need lots of practice.

Draft poster is done, too, for the Gospel Trio’s show at the Tillamook Library Wed., July 15, and I can already see how to tweak it to make it look better; I need to do an almost matching one for the Trio’s gig the following Monday (July 20) at the Garibaldi Library (no, the Garibaldi Library doesn’t have room for a performance—we’ll be out on the City Hall Dance Floor, where the Library has their summer programs for the kids).

And I’ve heard back—I think—from all the soloists and bands who were going to perform at Garibaldi Days, telling me (1) when they can’t perform, (2) when they can perform, (3) when they’d prefer to perform, and (4) whether they could play longer if need be (for more money, of course). Now I have to put it all together and see what it looks like. It is rather like a jigsaw puzzle, and maybe the easiest way to deal with it is to tack a big grid on the wall and start sticking little Post-It notes up in different colors. I am not sure there’s an effective way to do this on the computer.

Oh, and a post-mortem of sorts, since I didn’t finish this. I ate (when the schedule finally let me), was immediately sleepy, slept till morning, and woke up hungry again (I recognize the feeling now). Now, if I could just get my sleeping schedule back to normal…

Joe

PERFORMING RIGHTS ORGANIZATION THOUGHTS…

I don’t remember if I’ve said this before… This week, yet another little live-music venue—a 50-seat restaurant—got visited by the “ASCAP Police,” demanding a $600 license fee because they were having live music. They were followed by the other two Performing Rights Organizations, BMI and SESAC, wanting license fees of $500 and $700, respectively. Faced with an unanticipated annual expense of $1,800, the 50-seat restaurant is just not going to have live music any more.

Poster for the Blue Heron gig June 5.

This has been happening rather a lot. Yes, the PROs are within their rights, doing what they do; if you’ve got live music in your place of business, and the musician is playing tunes—whether covers or originals—that are in a PRO’s “catalog,” then your venue is supposed to pay a license fee, a portion of which theoretically goes to the songwriter whose stuff is being played. (It doesn’t, for the most part, but hey, it’s a nice theory, and attractive to songwriters.)

However, the ASCAP (&c.) “police” tactics, which are reminiscent of the practice of the IRS confiscating little kids’ piggy banks to show they really are collecting taxes, aren’t generating much besides bad publicity. They don’t get any money out of it; instead, all that happens is the venue, confronted with a large, unanticipated cost, simply avoids the cost by not having live music any more.

And that’s very bad for music in general. Those little venues, many of which are able to pay their musicians only a little, if at all, are the “farm team,” as it were, for the musical big leagues. The Dodson Drifters got our start playing in places like that. If those venues disappear—and that’s what the ASCAP (&c.) “police” are doing, whether they realize it or not—where is the “big league music” going to come from?

Yes, venues should treat those PRO licenses as a cost of doing business, and factor it into their business plans—but I don’t see anybody telling these venue owners that the PROs and their license fees exist. If you’re starting up a restaurant or bar, you know you have to have a business license, a liquor license, certification from the Health Department; you pay a license fee for the jukebox and the coin-operated pool table, too. People tell you that stuff. The “PRO stuff”? Nobody knows about that. In 30-plus years as a performing songwriter, I have only run across two venue owners who knew about it, and they were both performing musicians.

I did think of a solution—a simple one. It’s got to be simple, because we’re talking about amending the Copyright Law, the Congress has to do that, and these days Congress acts almost incapable of doing anything affecting public policy. This can be portrayed as “constituent service,” though, something Congress has become very, very good at.

In 1999, the Copyright Law was amended to exempt venues under 4,000 square feet from having to pay PRO license fees for having a TV or radio on the premises that just might be used to play music (yes, apparently the PROs were after venues for that, too).   The solution? Add two words to that 1999 exemption: “live music.” I think that would take care of most of the outfits that are being harassed by the ASCAP (&c.) “police.”

The counter-argument I’d use on the PROs—which I am sure will object—is, “You’re not making any money off these little places anyway. You are just harassing them into not having live music, which is counter-productive because it prevents the “farm team” musicians from becoming big (and generating PRO license fees) later because they never had a chance to get big.”

That “nobody knows about the PROs” problem needs to be addressed, too. One city I worked for had a symbiotic relationship with the local Chamber of Commerce; when somebody joined the Chamber, the Chamber told the city, and when somebody got a business license, the city told the Chamber. A version of this could work (and not take a Federal law), provided the PROs were willing to act less Gestapo-like.

One could assume it is mostly places that serve alcohol that have live music. What if the PROs just alerted the Liquor Control Commissions (or whatever they’re called) in all 50 states to tell somebody who applies for a liquor license, “Now, remember, if you’re going to have live music (and your place is over 4,000 square feet), you have to pay license fees to these three Performing Rights Organizations, and here’s how to reach them”? Why wouldn’t that work?

Okay, I’m done saving the world for today. Back to bed to try to take care of this flu.  Gig in nine days…

Joe

KITE FESTIVAL POST-MORTEM…

Well, the Friday night performance at the Kite Festival went surprisingly well. There were no professional kite callers Friday, it turned out—they weren’t coming till Saturday—so there was no tent on the waterfront. I played (my choice) in the old train station instead; it’s still open to the wind, but at least it was further away from the water.

Sam Keator’s photo of me playing at the Kite Fest. (Thanks, Sam.)

The Chamber folks said I could play earlier (there being no professional kite callers, and all), but I told them no—I’d said I was going to play at 6:30 (I had posters out, and everything), and I do what I say I’m going to do. I think I told people that several times during the evening—mostly in reference to the weather.

It was cold, and damp; it had rained earlier in the day, when I’d done a shift (outside, again) at the square dance club’s yard sale, and the sun never did come out—and like Sam McGee in Robert Service’s poem, I was not sure I would ever be warm again. At least at the gig, the guitar stayed pretty much in tune (a sure sign that the strings are due to be replaced).

What was surprising was there were actually people there—not a big crowd, but they were actually listening. I knew a few of them; most, I didn’t. A couple stuck around for the entire two hours, despite the rotten weather. And I made enough in tips to more than pay for my time, and I sold a CD, too.

Best? “Anatole the Vole” was a definite hit; so was “Perverts, Fornicators, and Loud Mouthed Women”; they liked “Pole Dancing for Jesus” and “Free-Range Person,” too. (The vendor guy who bought the Naked Album CD made sure it had both “Perverts” and “Pole Dancing” on it before he bought it.)

I did forget the words to “50 Ways to Cure the Depression” (moral—always practice all the songs beforehand), but I did a “save” by playing “Selling Off My Body Parts” (to which I did remember all the words, thankfully)—and then since I was going to be short of time in the second set, I played my Remaining Audience “Take Me Back to the ‘Sixties,” which I hadn’t done in the first set (I’d played “When They Die, I Put Them in the Cookies” instead because there were a bunch of kids around).

All told, it was good. Some of the vendors were complaining there wasn’t any live music during the whole 4-day Kite Festival except for my 2-hour show Friday night; I hope they tell the Chamber—and also tell the Chamber they liked what I did.

The inevitable question with gigs like this is, “Would I do it again?” I think the answer here is “Yes, but…” I have a Rule I try to live with, that says of course I will play your place for free the first time—I realize I am an unknown quantity as far as you’re concerned—but if you want me back, we should be talking about my getting paid.

Now, that doesn’t always happen: I’m happy to play free for outfits that don’t have any money (like the Pacific City Farmers Market), or with which I’ve got some kind of close connection (I’m on the boards of the Grange and Bay City Arts Center, for instance), and I’m happy if half the gigs I do are paying ones—but if you’re doing something “businessy” where your entertainment is bringing in business, you should be considering your entertainment a cost of doing business, and paying them. (And I don’t want to get a reputation as “Oh, Joe will always play for free,” either. Troubadours gotta eat, too.)

I did take care of the “I may never be warm again” problem, by the way, by taking a mega-dose of Vitamin C, and a long, hot shower, and going to bed with the electric blanket turned way up and sleeping for over eight hours. I hope I have avoided getting a cold out of this. I wonder if the audience will.

Joe

YARD SALE, &C…

Yard sale is ready; my part, as usual, was designing and printing the signs—must look professional whatever we do. I’m also be manning a couple of shifts, one just prior to doing the gig at the Kite Festival (Friday night, 6:30 to 8:30—and I do hope the weather isn’t as rainy and cold as it is as this is written). I’ll be Yard Sale Person again on Sunday.

Kite Festival gig poster.

And the yard sale sign. i ‘spect people will come to the yard sale in the rain, ’cause everything’s under cover. The gig? Not so much.

The Memorial Day Weekend Yard Sale was the Wave Steppers’ biggest fund-raiser last year, and I hope it’s like that again. We have a huge tent and half a barn full of stuff (I didn’t expect that much stuff), all priced to move—and I hope it moves. Among the “finds” are two sets of PA speakers of mine, that I don’t use any more, now that I have the PA system; the wireless “Mutant” brand ones, which I bought new, have flashing blue lights that gave that “disco feel” to square dancing, and were kinda cool.

Our “newbie” wasn’t at square dance class again Wednesday night; I had just experienced dancers there, so I ran through stuff they were all supposed to know (and got reminded a couple of times that even experienced dancers can forget things). Since two of our “angels” were recovering from illness or injury, I kept the tempo a little slow to not impact them too badly (since I have a computer, I can do that). Still, three of my hoedowns were at 100% speed (the fourth was at 95%) and the dancers did okay.

At the Dutch Mill Wednesday night, me and the band did “Perverts, Fornicators, and Loud Mouthed Women” (requested) and “Test Tube Baby”—and then later in the evening, just before closing, one of the dancers (yes, there were dancers) said, “I want to hear some blues,” and then, “And I want to hear you [pointing at me] sing.”

Clint was playing bass—he sometimes stops in after practice with the jazz band—and he suggested “The Frog Next Door,” which is a “deliberate” blues he and I know because the Gospel Trio does it, so we did that. The chord changes are a little odd, but we figured with us (bass and rhythm guitar) playing it, lead guitarist Carl would have to follow along, and we were right.

It was the first time the Dutch Mill people had heard the song, and I think it came off okay. The real proof will be whether anybody requests it again. And we closed out the evening with “Pole Dancing for Jesus,” with percussionist Nathan playing blues harp (he is quite good).

I had a line on a paying Saturday gig Memorial Day weekend—reportedly, a performer had bailed out at the last minute, and the venue was scrambling to find somebody to replace them (and I got suggested, which was nice)—but at this point I don’t think it’s going to happen; the lady’s taking too long to decide. At this point, I wouldn’t be able to do any advertising, and advertising, in my opinion, is how you bring audience (and for the business, customers) in.

I shan’t complain. Having a day of rest this weekend will be nice—though it’s probably going to translate into “day working on the garden.” I still have that graphic-design project to finish, too, and the 3-hour Blue Heron gig to make sure I’m ready for, and advertising to get out for the new square dance classes starting June 10

Joe

RECORDING THOUGHTS…

Tentative inclusions in the Playing in the Ruins album with the Gospel Trio (which still needs to be worked on)—not in any order, of course:

The “Playing in the Ruins” album cover photo.

The Ebola Song—fast bluegrass
Playing in the Ruins—slow two-step
The Termite Song—fast bluegrass
In Hell, They’re Prob’ly Playing Disco—slow polka
Frog Next Door—deliberate blues (in D)
Even Roadkill Gets the Blues—slow two-step (the Christmas song)
Bungee Jumpin’ Jesus—deliberate Gospel
All About the Shoes—folk-rock (in G)
Perverts, Fornicators, and Loud Mouthed Women—fast blues
Pole Dancing for Jesus—slow & sleazy Gospel
Gormenghast and the Naked Psycho Unicorns—mod. two-step
Always Pet the Dogs—slow two-step
Welcome to Hebo Waltz—fast waltz

One problem I noted in our recording sessions last December is the songs sounded too much alike, even though they were at different tempos and sometimes in different keys. That’s because the arrangements were all alike; in every case, I was playing rhythm guitar (which I have to, if I’m going to sing at the same time), Barb was playing banjo (and doing a banjo lead in the break(s), and Clint and Barb were doing harmonies on the chorus.

The reason we sound so diverse in concert is we have all sorts of different arrangements for the songs we do (which are not all mine): sometimes I’ll be playing banjo while Barb plays guitar, and sometimes we’ll have two guitars, or even just one guitar and a simple percussion thing; we’ll rotate around lead vocals, too—we’ll almost never have the same person singing two songs in a row. When we’re doing my songs, though, we do tend to have the me-on-guitar-Barb-on-banjo setup, because I’m singing.

I can’t change the me-singing part—but I might be able to alter the instrumentation a little. Barb is becoming quite a multi-instrumentalist; she now plays mandolin and autoharp as well as banjo and guitar, and is working on dulcimer and cello. And I could always add a lead guitar (or banjo) track by me later, provided the song is slow enough. (I do lead best on the two-steps.)

The first “do it different” one that comes to mind is “Welcome to Hebo”; for years, I’ve heard (thanks to the Soundtrack from God) a cello part, reminiscent of some of the stuff the Beatles did with the London Philharmonic, but I’ve never found a cello player willing to try it. I think I’ve got one now. I think autoharp would sound appropriate on “Pole Dancing for Jesus,” and maybe on “Always Pet the Dogs” and “Playing in the Ruins,” too (alternatively, I could have Barb play mandolin on those last two). Maybe two guitars on “Roadkill”—I could add a guitar or banjo lead later.

One that I wouldn’t change is “Frog Next Door.” Barb does a “swamp funk” banjo on this (it’s become kind of a trademark in a lot of our stuff) that’s perfect for this song. Might keep the banjo on “Bungee Jumpin’ Jesus,” too.

It may be fall before I get to do any actual recording at the Arts Center again; the place is busy in the summer, just like I am. What we can do in the meantime, in our spare time (yeah, right), is try out some of these arrangements in our weekly practices and see how they sound. We need to be thoroughly practiced before going into the studio anyway (even if the “studio” is the Arts Center and the sound engineer is me).

I have to use the Arts Center (or something like it) because I want the “live feel” from recording everybody together, so I need a big room to do it in. I do want to borrow sound engineer Larry’s little 6-channel Tascam and try recording everybody’s parts separately while they play together; that might give me better control over the final sound. And then if I can, I’ll have Larry do the mastering; he’s the pro, and can (and does) do a way better job than I can.

Current goal: Have the album done before Christmas (that’s why there’s a Christmas song on the list). If I can hit the Christmas market, people may buy it as presents…

Joe

KITE FEST SETLIST…

At the Kite Festival Friday, May 22, I’m playing two hours; that’s presumably two sets of 13 songs each, with a break in between. I think I’ll play:

Kite Festival gig poster.

SET ONE:
One Gas Station—mod. tempo acoustic folk
The Termite Song—fast bluegrass
In Hell, They’re Prob’ly Playing Disco—slow polka
Take Me Back to the ‘Sixties—fast bluegrass
Anatole the Vole—slow two-step
The World Enquirer—fast bluegrass
Last Song of the Highwayman—medieval two-step
All About the Shoes (in G)—folk-rock
Free-Range Person—fast bluegrass
Pole Dancing for Jesus—slow & sleazy Gospel
Perverts, Fornicators, and Loud Mouthed Women—fast blues
Milepost 43—mod. tempo two-step
Spend the End of the World with Me—fast ragtime
Playing in the Ruins—slow two-step

SET TWO:
Duct Tape—mod. tempo country
Can I Have Your Car When the Rapture Comes?—slow & sleazy
Dead Fishes (in D)—very fast bluegrass
Eatin’ Cornflakes from a Hubcap Blues—slow & sleazy quasi-blues
50 Ways to Cure the Depression—folk-rock
Selling Off My Body Parts—fast bluegrass
Hank’s Song (in D)—mod. tempo two-step
Bluebird on My Windshield—fast bluegrass
I Don’t Have a Song About the Missing Plane—slow two-step
The Ebola Song—fast bluegrass
Writer’s Block Blues—slow & sleazy
Meet Me at the Stairs—fast bluegrass (starts slow)

Five dead-animal songs, four “religious,” four about the economy—alternating fast and slow, as usual. I didn’t include “Doing Battle with the Lawn,” “Everybody’s Gonna Be Poor,” or “Earwigs in the Eggplant,” but I’ll do those at the Pacific City Farmers Market June 14. Only six songs on the list have never been on an album before (but I do have four albums, after all, plus the “pre-posthumous” Cuppa Joe tribute album).

Poster’s done (still needs to be distributed, though); next—the Rap.

I know I’ll be in the announcers’ tent down by the waterfront, but have no idea what the crowd will be like (or even if there will be one—it is Kite Festival Weekend, but the weather is not sunny and warm). I’ll bring the usual infrastructure—PA system, Ugly Tip Bucket, and CDs—and see what happens. Visions of the tourists telling friends afterwards, “Well, after the kite people went away, there was this weird guy…”

One of the nice things about being busy is I don’t have time to worry about stuff like that. I show up, I am prepared, I play, I go to the next gig. Most of this summer may be like that. I wonder occasionally whether I’ll win any of the contests I’ve entered—but I mostly don’t have time to worry about that, either.

Joe

WANT TO LIVE IN A GHOST TOWN FOR A MONTH?

Want to live in a ghost town for the summer? The BLM has one; hight Garnet, it’s in western Montana, about 15 miles north of Bearmouth (love them place names—it’s a ways east of Missoula). It’s an old mining town, reportedly abandoned when the gold ran out a few years before World War I; the BLM, which says it got donated the town in 1972, maintains it as a tourist attraction, and every year seeks volunteers to live there free of charge to show tourists around. (Apparently tourists do come. I saw some in photos.)

There’s no electricity, and no running water (there are wells, however, and propane stoves and refrigerators)—and no rent. The BLM even pays a small stipend (they don’t say how small). You could live there for three months (the BLM insists on at least one month). 2015 is already booked up, they said (I notice they were advertising pretty heavily for wannabe residents for a while, though), but 2016 is available.

This sounds like the ideal retreat. What would be tons of fun would be for a bunch of musicians to be the volunteers together, and actually do a musical retreat. Isolated, miles from anywhere (except Bearmouth, which is kind of a ghost town, too—it’s where the gold from Garnet was smelted), you could get some work done. We could put on some shows, too—maybe increasing visitorship to the little ghost town. I wonder if anyone else would be interested in doing this?

Now, I’m not really in a position to vanish for a whole summer; I am not one of these famous people who could publicly disappear for a while, and have fans eagerly awaiting the moment I came back. In my case, people would likely just forget me. I spend a lot of time and effort reminding people I’m around, and I’m not sure what would happen if I didn’t. On the other hand, I am occasionally painfully conscious that I am 65 years old, and can’t postpone doing stuff like this much longer.

A whole summer in Garnet is probably out—but I could maybe do a month (as long as it wasn’t July). Next June, maybe? Garnet is 6,000 feet in elevation, and pretty far north to boot. I wonder if they get snow in June?

The Lincoln City Cultural Center has my CD, and the Gospel Trio’s EP, and says they’ll think about it (they haven’t listened to them yet); they suggested I (or we) might want to play at Salishan instead, and I’ll send those folks an e-mail now that I have the name of the dude that hires the entertainment. Vino Manzanita did listen to my CD, and thinks I wouldn’t be a “good fit” for their place; they suggested I contact the San Dune, and even though I don’t know anybody there, I suppose I’ll visit the San Dune with a CD and EP. I can maybe do it when I drop off my presskit at the Nehalem Bay Winery. There is one day this week when I might have time to do that.

There is a reason for allowing extra space in Concert Season for the unexpected—the unexpected has a nasty habit of happening. I got approached today by the Rockaway Beach Chamber of Commerce, asking if I’d play at their Kite Festival thing after the announcers had gone home, and I agreed, as a favor to their secretary, whom I know. I picked Friday night (this Friday night, three days from now), when presumably there will still be people around (the announcers quit at 6:00, and I’ll do 6:30 to 8:30). However, the weather’s not supposed to be great—cloudy and a tad chilly, but at least no rain and not much wind—so people may not stick around. I doubt I’m that entertaining. We’ll see.

So very quickly, I need to make and distribute posters, and work up a 2-hour setlist. It’ll be good preparation for the Blue Heron gig a week later.

Joe

STUFF…

Poster for the Blue Heron gig June 5.

Setlist and Rap (and poster) are done for the Blue Heron; the 38 songs include 10 two-steps, 13 bluegrass, a couple each of waltzes, polkas, and folk-rockers, one ragtime, and one blues. Four “religious” songs, and seven songs with dead animals. I’ll have a handful of serious songs, too: “Paradise,” because I’ve got someone coming who wants to hear it, “Playing in the Ruins” because it won that prize over in England, and “Cuddle in the Darkness” because I haven’t played it in a long time and I need to be reminded again that it really doesn’t make the chicks line up.

It should be a good show. I need to bring plenty of CDs just in case people want to buy some. (I happen to have plenty.) And the Big Ugly Tip Bucket, of course. And the “joelist” notebook. I will be prepared.

For the Pacific City Farmers Market show coming up nine days later (June 14), I want to play different stuff than at the Blue Heron. Not only is it a different sort of venue (organic vegetables and crafts instead of wine and cheese, and a lot fewer places to sit down), but I also don’t want to play the same stuff on principle. I’ve written lots of stuff, and I might as well play it and not risk being boring. (I could really do two hours of music that was entirely different from the three hours I’m doing at the Blue Heron, but I expect I will have some overlap.)

I’ve been trying the last couple of shows to make sure I played all the songs from the Naked Album. What if I didn’t bother? What if I just played what I’d want to hear? What would that setlist look like?

Well, it’d have “Earwigs in the Eggplant” (my love song with vegetables and garden pests) because this is a Farmers Market, and “Welcome to Hebo Waltz” because Hebo is only a few miles away. “Doing Battle with the Lawn,” because that’s something everybody’s got to do this time of year. The economics songs, perhaps, because I’ve been obsessing about the Depression again: “Free-Range Person,” “Selling Off My Body Parts,” “50 Ways to Cure the Depression,” and “Everybody’s Gonna Be Poor.” Perhaps “All About the Shoes,” too, with its suggestion to send Congress walking (in new shoes, of course).

It is tempting to do a bunch of the “religious” songs, too, because the PCFM is on a Sunday: “Pole Dancing for Jesus,” “Perverts, Fornicators, and Loud Mouthed Women,” “Can I Have Your Car When the Rapture Comes?” and maybe “Blue Krishna” (another one I haven’t played in a while). I’m not sure—yet—what else. I should have about 26 songs total. Time to organize—June is coming up awfully fast. (I bet they’ll want a poster, too.)

I’ve arranged for my entry form to get sent off to the State Grange so I can be in their talent show; under their rules, our local Lecturer (program director) has to send it to the State Lecturer. That presumably proves that the song I’m entering really was performed at a local Grange meeting (it was, in April). The talent show is Tuesday, June 30, in Pendleton, so I’ll need to go over the day before (June 29) and come back the day after.

I’d heard noises that since I’m the only one from our local Grange “going to State,” they might make me their Delegate and have me vote on stuff while I’m there (I don’t know if they’d be paying me to stay longer). It does mean I’ll miss the square dance class Wednesday, July 1; maybe we can arrange to have Gwen give line dance lessons again instead.

A full week coming up, between a Tico Marimba gig, practice with the Gospel Trio, an Urban Renewal meeting (I’m on the board), square dance class, hearing daughter speak to the NKN graduating class, teaching square dance class, and getting ready for and taking money at the square dance club’s big annual yard sale—and it’s not even June yet. Still more gigs to solicit, too—three that I can think of. Sometimes I ask if I’m trying to do too much—but the answer is usually, “No, dude, you’re not doing enough.”

Joe

I KNOW A GUY…

There’s a songwriter I know in Nashville who has been trying for years to get a “cut” on somebody’s record, somehow, somewhere, and has been rebuffed over and over again. Sometimes he gets promises—that end up never being fulfilled. And he’s a decent writer. (Alas, that doesn’t seem to matter—as I’ve noted before.)

Another of the face masks at the Native American Museum in Washington, D.C.

What’s particularly galling for this guy is that along with all that rejection, and all those “you’re just not good enough” claims, the Music Industry persists in putting out heavily-promoted albums of barely adulterated crap. He’s thoroughly frustrated. And the only place he’s getting is old.

It makes me glad I gave up on Nashville almost eight years ago. I have a low tolerance for frustration, anyway; I could never have stuck it out as long as this guy has—and I would probably have not kept writing if I were being told at every turn that my material wasn’t good enough.

I worry now and then that I may be limiting my chances for Making It Big by pursuing the Troubadour Business Model, but I enjoy that my critics are audiences, not Monsanto-esque executives primarily interested in preventing competition for their own peculiar brand of “GMO country.” My audiences, even though they’re small, appear to like my stuff (and that keeps me writing). And I keep getting gigs. Considering that I wouldn’t have gotten any attention in Nashville—something I was told bluntly, and repeatedly, the last time I was there—I may actually be Making It Bigger doing what I’m doing. Yes, it’s small-scale, but at least it exists.

Enlarging that small scale is a challenge. Assuming I do become a Big Fish in this relatively small pond (which has not happened yet, but may yet be possible), how does one make the pond bigger? At this point, I’m doing contests—not many, and just ones I think I can win. I consider those to be investments—and as a former municipal financial manager, I want investments that are going to pay off. To the extent I do win something, it’s publicity that can maybe translate into more fans and gigs in other places. (I’d still like to have an excuse to go to England, for instance.)

If I get to go to Texas again as a finalist in the Bosque Arts Center’s “Texas Troubadour” contest, I want to spend a little more time in Texas, and visit some folks I know there, and maybe do a show or house concert or two to help pay for the trip. One of the people I’m in touch with in Texas is a booking agent, so it may actually be possible. (I’d better send her a copy of the Naked Album now, just in case.)

I still wrestle with what I should send to “the Bosque” for their contest. On the one hand, I do want to be one of those finalists that gets to perform on stage. That was a lot of fun last year. On the other hand, I alternately don’t care—I’ll just send them what I think is good, and see what happens.

Right now, I lean towards making the entries “Playing in the Ruins,” “I Really Don’t Belong Here,” and “The Ebola Song.” I have decent recordings of all three, plus a live-in-concert video of “Ebola” from Release Night (with the audience singing along).

I have to remind myself occasionally how I have decided to define “success.” It’s becoming the best writer I can be. Making It Big doesn’t really enter into that. Yes, more people liking my stuff indicates that I’m getting better at the writing thing, and I do want and need that kind of reinforcement. And I’m getting it, I guess. And it is frankly a lot more satisfying—and, I think, productive—than beating my head against deliberately locked doors in Nashville.

Joe