As a person whos recorded hundreds of hours of local music in my home studio, I get to hear all sorts of sonic creativity that never reaches a wider audience. In fact, none of my recordings have ever ascended beyond the level of vanity projects, other than a couple of indie releases by the Pink Lincolns and Flat Stanley. (Leave it to the punks to act like businessmen.) It doesnt bother me at all, just reinforces the idea that Im doing it purely as a hobby, not as some sort of business venture. The musicians bring the beer and I help them get their sounds on tape.
When I get to hear new sounds and shape them into a cohesive whole of my choosing, I tap into some sort of special pleasure center in my brain. Im not claiming Im good at it I just love doing it and Ive been fortunate enough to have worked with any number of aspiring local artists who usually think Im doing them a favor. Theyre wrong. I need them as much as they need me. They bring original songs, their instruments and voices, and I get to assemble the sounds, to feed my head. What could be better? Playing music is rewarding in its own ways, but done right, its hard work and the rewards can be elusive. Recording it is like catching a snowflake on my tongue; it makes me feel lucky, and if the results melt away into oblivion, there is always the memory and another project around the corner.
This is where I usually jump on my high horse and comment on how too many amateur musicians are under the misguided assumption that their DIY ethic has automatically bought them the sort of indie cred that allows them to forget they are nobodies. I say its totally okay to be a nobody as long as you embrace it. If you want something bigger, there are many, many tasks at hand. Do all of those tasks, or shut the fuck up. And by that, I mean there is a clear distinction between a hobby and a profession. Dont mix them up, because if you do, youre kidding yourself. Thats called in a word delusion, and its embarrassing.
This article appears in Dec 16-22, 2010.
