The Office.

I couldn’t do my job for Susan if I did not believe that her music and words should be heard by as many people as possible.  It’s a lot of fun, but it’s also ridiculous hours, unhealthy road life, and a lot of pressure.   On any given day on the road I am responsible for things like leaving on time to get to sound check on time to make sure all the equipment gets unloaded and loaded and  that the venue paid us the right amount.  Before all that gets to fruition, as the booking agent, I am usually staring down the barrel of being responsible for figuring out where to go, when to go, how many gigs will be there, whether those gigs will pay for themselves plus profit, what we can ask for in newer markets versus established markets.  It’s a fun puzzle but it can also make you crazy.  I never turn my brain off.  My ears are always open, my mind always running through some mental Rolodex of venues and radii and mileage.

This is not to scare you away from booking or anything of the sort…it’s actually pretty fun.  A thrill of the hunt job if there ever was one.  But I couldn’t “sell” like I do if I didn’t think it was a given that Susan needed to be in front of people doing what she does wonderfully.  If I felt a smidge of ever calling in a favor from a venue, or that I pulled something over on them by getting booked, it would all be over.  There’s no way you can put that much of yourself on the line and not believe in what you’re doing.

This applies to you booking yourself, but especially if you are going to go the apprentice route and work with another touring artist.  Like them first.  Being useful will follow naturally.

Our story continues about this sweet deal of mine…note that the actual Merch Girl job is really only relevant at the venue.  There are often hours of time getting to the show and driving away from it that need to be filled.  Being a self-described nerd, I was usually on my laptop.  Susan, as the driver, was never on hers…thankfully so for the safety of all of us.  After a while it became obvious that while I was laptopping in the front seat, I could very well be handling some of Susan’s email and calendar while she dictated next to me and still kept both hands on the wheel.  At that point, only a month or two after my initial foray as Merch Girl, I stepped into “Personal Assistant” territory.  It was organic, it made sense, it utilized my time in the van better and it utilized Susan’s better.  I learned about the back end of being an independent artist, and Susan had emails and calls turned around a lot faster.  I started back-and-forthing with the booking agency, mapping routes, Googling venues, whatever needed to be done.  I had essentially gotten a promotion, simply by being open to what was needed and what could be useful to the person I was working with.

This shift in van life led to the opportunity for my first extended tour out of state, which happened about three months after working I began working with Susan.  We went to the southeast for two weeks, and I experienced driving through states like Alabama and Georgia for the first time.  I was the Merch Girl still, mostly, but whatever needed to be done was fine.  There is photographic evidence of my legs propped up on the dashboard with two laptops on my knees, transferring Susan’s entire Outlook database from one computer to another.  Stuff like that makes the day seem productive even before the gig starts, which is an awesome feeling.

So to recap up until now, at the beginning of 2008, I had no intentions of being anyone’s Merch Girl or Personal Assistant.  I did, however, pine away about being able to tour and travel and play music for people and learn how the music business runs from an artist way more established than I.  These things folded into each other and I went with the flow.  Little promotions along the way, often the ones you give yourself, make for big life changes.

(Short answer in case you want the Cliff’s Notes: I don’t know).

By “sweet deal,” I mean start working ground up with an established touring artist, work for free, do the odd jobs, get more responsibility, get to do cooler stuff, travel all the time, start meeting the movers and shakers of the the industry’s genre.  This is what I’ve done in the past year and a half.  I’ve had people tell me I’m a genius, I’ve had people ask for my formula.  I’d love to take credit for being a genius and a diabolical mastermind, but I can’t.  I can re-trace my steps on the timeline but I can’t really say most of them were aimed at upward mobility.  Most of my trajectory has been organic and logical, as in “Hey, I’m bored.  Why don’t I do this?”  Or “Hey, I’ve got an idea, let’s try it.”  While I can’t map it out because this exact path probably will not work for anyone else unless the personality chemistry is just right, there are hopefully bits to be gleaned for any artist looking to up their level and their game.  I’m breaking this down into Rules, with plenty of anecdotal evidence.  Work with whatever strikes your fancy.

Rule: Be Useful

I started working with Susan (the previously mentioned “established touring artist”) in the summer of 2008.  It came about because I had an opening slot for a gig she was playing outside of Dallas, five hours away from Austin.  I already knew Susan, had opened for her before, and we had traveled together once, so I knew we got along and that she was cool.  Cool enough to say yes when I approached her with the idea of riding with her to that gig outside of Dallas (because openers don’t get paid and a free ride is always good), and in return I would sell her merchandise for her all weekend long.  It helps to have someone hauling that sort of stuff in and attending to it all night; it increases sales and gives the artist less to worry about.

So I did it and the merch numbers were excellent, and I had an invitation to be the Merch Girl any time I could.  I was only working working part time in Austin, so I had a lot of free weekends.  I’d hop in the van, wear the t-shirts with pride, enjoy meeting Susan’s fans, upsell and upsell again.  I’d help load-in the equipment and load-out when everything was done.  Any musician knows, this is just useful stuff to have done for you.  There’s so much stimulation for an artist at a show that having little things taken care of by a responsible person goes a long way.

In reality?  In my mind?  I was just trying to do everything I could to earn my place in the van.  I was benefitting immeasureably by watching one of the most professional and entertaining performers I had ever seen perform multiple times a month, seeing nuances in shows, seeing how really good gigs go well and how maybe not-so-good gigs can still go well.  I took it all in, and I found that the more useful I made myself, the more opportunities I had to learn things.

Weird how that works.

One of my favorite songwriters, Terri Hendrix, has a line in her song Wallet that says, “Hold the key to your chains.”  It’s a good sentiment in general, but what does it mean for someone pursuing a career as a performing singer/songwriter?  As far as I can tell, it means three main things:

1. Pinpoint Your Weaknesses: Be Ruthless

You have strengths, of course.  You probably have a pretty good idea of what those are, and the more you put your music out there and perform live, the more you will find those out.

Weaknesses are a different beast, though, and they could be the chains that hold you back from being the dynamic, successful performer you want to be.  Friends and fans are probably the last people to ask about this, unless you have an extraordinarily honest and impartial friend.  They like you because they like you, and they’re not seeking out your weaknesses.

Is your songwriting grabbing them?  Are your vocal chops up to par?  Do you have an engaging performance style?  All of these are essential components to a performing musician’s gig.  If there’s something that nags you constantly…”I should really work on (nailing that chord/hitting that note consistently/promoting my shows better/working the room),” you probably have a good place to start.  Be ruthless on yourself; it’s how you reach the next level.

2. Address the Weakness: Fix It or Work With It

Self-awareness is key, but oftentimes being of a professional caliber means learning from professionals.  Mentors, coaches, and teachers are trained to identify and work you through your weaknesses.  Doing so might involve deconstructing bad habits or forming brand new ones.  Reading books or watching DVDs about what you need to learn more about…stagecraft or the anatomy of the voice, for instance, is also recommended.  Seeking information turns a weakness into a skill that you are improving on.

Keep in mind that sometimes a weakness can be turned into a strength.  Can’t belt a torch song like Aretha?  Maybe your deal is a quiet, intimate vocal style.  That has its own audience.  Use the flip side of what you are not accomplished at to see what you are capable of doing.

3. Don’t Let Your Weakness Discourage You

We don’t like admitting we have them in the first place.  If you are to the point where you are performing, writing, selling records, getting gigs…then you’re probably doing a lot of things right.  Don’t let go of that thought.  However, being aware of what will hone your craft even more and allow you to be even better at what you do is never a bad thing.  Hold the key to your chains and take action to practice your art on a higher level.

“You cannot run away from weakness; you must some time fight it out or perish; and if that be so, why not now, and where you stand?” – Robert Louis Stevenson

“Our calling is where our deepest gladness and the world’s hunger meets”. – Frederich Buechner

Apathy can be overcome by enthusiasm, and enthusiasm can only be aroused by two things: first, an ideal, with takes the imagination by storm, and second, a definite intelligible plan for carrying that ideal into practice. – Arnold J. Toynbee