The entry I have been planning to write for a looong time:

Sitting on my couch last night I got an email from a good friend of mine. He is one of my most regular musical conspirators and one of the best musicians I know. The fact that we get on well is an added bonus. We don't socialize much outside of making music, but I am sure that one of the reasons we keep playing together is because we enjoy one another's company. I had sent him (and some others) an email early in the day about potentially getting together in more of a social setting this upcoming Sunday, and, while he was certainly interested, he mentioned that he might be sitting in with another musician that evening, so his plans would need to be based on the time that gig allows him. A sharp pang of jealousy and disappointment ran up my spine. Why wasn't I sitting in with someone on Sunday? I realize just how ridiculous this was. There's a good chance I don't even know that cat that he's playing with - and yet - there I was - a little frustrated. This came on the heels of a conversation with another very good friend of mine who I have had the opportunity to sit in with a few times. He has only recently begun playing music again after a long hiatus and has often looked to me for counsel as he slowly dipped his toe back into the murky waters that are the live music scene in NYC. He asked me to come along and play a show with him at some point in July. I was disappointed that I couldn't take the gig he offered as I was playing a gig with my band that night. That's right, folks: I had a crisis of conscience about having to turn down an opportunity to play someone else's songs because I was already booked to do a concert of my own. Fucked up? Surely. I offered to get him a gig on the same bill as me, and, strangely, he wasn't particularly interested. It might have been because he's doing more of a "rock" thing at the moment (my show is at a quieter venue), but I think the real deterrent was that it was in Park Slope at cafe whereas his potential gig is at a bar (albeit a kinda shitty one) in the far more musically illustrious neighborhood of Williamsburg (I am actually not spewing sarcasm there). It kinda hurt. While I know he wasn't levying judgment on a venue I am choosing to play, it was an unintentional yet subtle dig at the path I have chose as of late: quasi-acoustic, small venues, etc. Between these two exchanges with some of my close friends/musical friends I was emotionally spent and just needed to go to bed and pretend I am not a musician. This feeling gets me from time to time. I often consider throwing in the towel. The "quitting" rationale usually makes sense as I often have this way after coming home from a particularly mediocre gig or rehearsal. This time, however, I am forced to really think hard about this as it comes on the heels of not having played music with anyone in public for more than a week. I hate to sound dramatic, but my entire musical ego seems to rest on constant positive interaction with other musicians. Either way, it just calls this entire endeavour into question. Were I 22 years old with no attachments (read: career, wife, etc) and lots and lots of time on my hands, I could continue to slug it out in the minor leagues hoping that at some point someone would like my music enough to pay me money to do just that. But I'm not - which is a big part of this quandary. It's interesting: I know I'm never gonna make it. I have rationalized it. I have processed it. I have come to terms with it (sort of). And yet: I keep on plugging away. There are moments (like this one) that I ask myself why. Let's examine this introspection, shall we?

1) If it's gonna happen, it would have happened by now.

By music industry standards I am old, overweight, and just plain 'ol not interesting enough to make me worth marketing. Furthermore, I have been plugging away at this for a long time. I have played a few different instruments in lots of different bands and, as fun as it's been, it hasn't "lead" to anything. This doesn't really bother me. I am somewhat content to tread water at the "level" I am at right now: playing at low to mid-level venues on a semi-regular basis with people I love. There are, however, lots of little things I need to balance to be able to keep doing that.

2) Looking for a job is a full-time job.

The people who "make it" in this world work their asses off. They do nothing but write, play, rehearse, etc. They may have a "day job" that requires little cosmic energy, but they are certainly not defined by it. The folks that both work a day job and are full-time musicians are often romantically unattached. I am not afforded these *ahem* luxuries. Now let me be clear: I love my wife and would not go back and do anything differently in that regard. She's unbelievably patient with the amount of playing I currently do and I couldn't do any of it without her support, but the times I have played out more regularly have put a strain on our relationship, so those two ideals will always clash at least a little. Also: I really love my day job. I get paid a decent amount of money to turn a whole new generation of people onto making music. It's a blast, it's fairly fulfulling, but it's exhausting. Years ago I wrote off a friend of a friend (who has gone on to be fairly famous) for repeating the dreaded adage "those who can't teach" to my face - but I have come to understand an appreciate this ex-thorn in my side in a very different way: those who teach can't because they don't have the psychic energy it takes to commit themselves fully to anything else. Sure, teacher hours afford me time to have a second 1/2-a-life as a musician - and I think that that "other" life is what ultimately makes me a great music teacher - but, so long as I have another full time job at which I cannot "phone it in", I'll never have the type of chutzpa it would take to "make it" as a musician.

3) Humility gets you nowhere.

Confidence and ego aside (and we may get to these in a later entry), I am generally rather humble about my skills as a songwriter, singer, and player. While I am still a fair piece from the top of the heap, I am an above-average guitar player, a passable upright bass player, a competent player of a number of other instruments, a pretty damn good singer, and a pretty good songwriter. Yet you'd never know any of that after meeting me or even talking to me for a half an hour or more. I may make some passing reference to my life as a musician, but I tend to play it down. I am not quite sure why I do this. Maybe it's the mid-90's self-effacing slacker ethic I picked up way back when. Maybe it's 'cos I am terrified that someone will say "well play me a song right now". I also think that, aside from my being generally shy when meeting new people, I am just not sure that anyone cares to hear about my misadventures on the NYC music scene. So many of my closest friends are also musicians and have had similar experiences, so I think have convinced myself that those experiences don't make me particularly special or interesting. So rather than be over-assertive, I tend to not talk about it at all. I also convinced myself, at some point, that reminding friends about my shows via emails or text messages only annoys them. Do I have any actual evidence to back that up? No - but I do know that I am easily annoyed by people in constant "promotion mode". I know a dude who can't go four sentences without talking about his next show. He only responds to my gig emails by telling me he can't go 'cos he has a gig that night, but recommends I show up at his show before/after mine (he just did this yesterday). It's fucking annoying. I mean: I also think the dude is a douchebag so I am sure that colours the situation, but I also find that the people that try to turn friends into fans upon meeting them for the first time, either by handing them a business card or talking up their next gig, are a little disingenuous - and that's just about the least flattering social trait I can think of. I dunno - maybe they are just that excited about what they're doing and they wanna tell everyone they know (or just met). Either way, it's a skill that appears to be necessary just to keep things rolling on the music scene in NYC. Unfortunately, it's also a skill I have yet to muster. I don't want people to think my friendships with them are laced with ulterior motives that will lead to their suffering through shitty opening acts and overpriced drinks. I tend to choose socializing over networking and it tends to bite me in the ass. Balance? This one is absolutely exasperating.

4) Guitarists are a dime a dozen

It was a little more than a year ago that I wrote a long entry on this here blog about wanting to become a great guitar player. One year later I have lots more skills, yet fewer guitar gigs to show for it. I recently quit the one band wherein I was the primary guitar player and kinda blew the one chance I had to be an aforementioned friend's regular guitar player by overplaying. Ugh. I really want a chance to be a hotshot guitar-slingin' sideman - a pretty tall order as no one knows I play. When I do my singer/songwriter-type thing, it's tough to show off any fancy guitar stuff because my instrument is really part of the larger texture, and besides, I want to draw attention to my singing and the songs themselves. Furthermore, in the band in which I am most publicly visible, I am playing bass about 90% of the time. So why don't people ask me to play bass gig more often, you ask? Well... to be frank (and I am not just being humble here): I am not a great upright bass player. I do ok, but it's doubtful anyone will call me up and ask me to play fo them based on the merits I display playing with the Whistlin' Wolves. I am also not known as a freelancer-about-town. See: there are certain bass players around that are sorta "on call" - and since there are so few of them - and since most of them work full-time as bass players (see earlier paragraphs for reasons I don't) - work just doesn't get tossed my way. To be fair: I am practicing to remedy this and I did just get my first freelance bass gig ever - so things are looking up - but I am still a long way from being first call. I am not sure why I strive to be a hired gun. I guess it's the ultimate compliment that someone thinks you can just show up and be good to go - and god knows I my musical ego is so fucking fragile that I want all the compliments I can get. I think I am ready for that kinda work. So who wants to hire me to play guitar? bass? *crickets*

5) To gig or not to gig?

One of the reasons I am guessing that my friend (beginning of post, not interested in the gig I offered) finds the idea of playing in Williamsburg - even at a fairly shitty venue - more appealing than doing a coffee house show with me is because there's a scene there. People just go out to hear music. Going to hear your friend's band is something you do regularly. I am sad to report that while I have done my time going to see other people's shows over the years, I have found that this simply is not the case with the crowd I run with or places I live. I refuse to believe that my music is so piss-poor that people refuse to come see me, but rallying the troops beyond those who are doing the "friendly thing" by coming to watch me play has been a challenge for as long as I have been doing this. I have made excuses. I have raised questions. I have promoted my shows (though, as I mentioned before, probably not nearly enough). Still, I have always brought out small to medium numbers of people, and I have always been waiting for the other shoe to drop. This has led to a weird consideration/concession I have had to make while beginning to step out as a solo artist: how often should I play? Sadly: in NYC, your ability to get gigs is often predicated on your ability to draw a crowd, rather than, and, sadly, sometimes in place of, how good your tunes/show are. I recognize that the places I play are businesses, so the "bottom line" will always be a part of the equation, but I have seen some pretty shitty bands (and I know this is all very subjective) play at some pretty great places in some fairly prime spots due to their having lots of friends who are young and like to drink and hear live music (I guess I have the wrong type of friends for a musician). So here's the quandary: If I play too seldom, my name does not get "out there" leading to the type of recognition that would lead to bigger audiences and bigger gigs - but if I play too often I will be rolling the dice on having a crowd at all, thus risking my ability to get any gigs in the future. Straight up: my friends are not gonna come out and see me play every week - and I don't fault them for that. But on the off-chance that I do make some new fans who really like going out to see live music, there's a good chance that they will have forgotten who I am by the time they receive an email notification about my next gig some three weeks later. I have had constant discussions about this with musician friends and no one seems to have figured this game out. I think the ideal is that you live, work, and play in a community where live music is an essential part of people's lives. I don't, so if you can figure this one out for me, please let me know.

6) Wanting your cake and eating it too - and pie - and ice cream - and...

When I go see a rock band, I want to start a rock band. When I go to see an old time group, I want to start and old time group. When I hear my friend is sitting in on guitar with and avant-garde Himalayan jazz nonet reinterpreting the songs of Paul Simon, I want... you know. That's right, folks: I want to be a singer/songwriter (requiring time to write more songs), an ace hired-gun-type lead guitarist, a bass player in a successful old time/blues/country/Americana/folk group (luckily I have this one already), a guitar playing vocalist/contributing member to some sort of indie pop/rock band, all the while maintaining my job as middle school music teacher and life as a loving husband and someday father. I am guessing that if I picked one of those goals and poured all of my energy into it, I might be able to get somewhere with it - but then you'd be reading about how bored I am doing just one thing. It's a vicious cy- nevermid. This one sorta speaks for itself.

So if you see me looking angry or despondent or just plain 'ol pensive after a show or during a show or between shows or walking away from you after meeting you for the first time, just think back on this post and remember that it's not just 'cos I am a sad-sack, it's 'cos I have a lot on my mind. Every step (and misstep) I take in this dense and murky forest that is the NYC music scene is cause for reflection in my world. Do I realize that all the time I spent writing this could have been used to try and tackle any of the aforementioned time-sensitive challenges I have set up for myself? Sure I do, but I wouldn't have gotten shit done without getting this off of my chest. I hope you've enjoyed it as much as I have. ;)

p.s. - come see my show tonight!
p.p.s. - (see. I'm trying!)