So I did it again..

I played my first show at the House Of Blues tonight with Ms. Robin Kinchen.  The show was great.  The turnout was really impressive as well.  Robin and I had promoted pretty heavily, but I didn’t have high hopes that our promotion would work.  Apparently it did work.  A great show indeed.  After the show, I found myself dozing off at a friends place in the quarter at about 3:30 AM during a little post show schmoozer that they threw together and realized I couldn’t  crash there because my car was still about 10 blocks away in a parking garage and the next day was father’s day.  So I borrowed my friend’s bike and I rode my way back to my car at 4:00 AM.  It was a beautiful ride, but again I find myself alone after hundreds of people stood silent seemingly interested in what I had to say/sing.  I mention it only because the juxtaposition is powerful to me.  I do not mean to sound as if I do not welcome the post show solitude.  It is quite nice and completely torturous all at once.  Such a feeling is hard to match and for that reason I suppose isn’t so bad at all.  I haven’t written in this journal in some time.  Journals are simply not my bag, but as I drove home tonight listening to nothing but my thoughts, I could think of nothing I wanted to do more than to write an entry in this journal.  So here it is.  It is now 4:40 and I’m going to sleep.  Happy Fathers Day

So low..solo..soul oh

I wrote a new tune today.  I’m hungover and lonely.  My solitude collects its toll from time to time.  I’ve got things to do that I’ll probably not do until tomorrow.  I’ll head to the open mic tonight.  Not sure If I’ll play the new tune or not.  I like to keep tunes to myself for a while sometimes.  I’ve got a show coming up at The House of Blues.  I’ll probably save it and play it then.  Looking forward to that show.  If you’re reading this BUY A TICKET TO THAT SHOW.  June 14th with Robin Kinchen.  You can buy tickets at ticketmaster.com.  Come keep me company

Twenty Three

Yesterday was my birthday. I have a headache.

Show

I played my first gig last night since getting back from Nashville.  It was great to play the tunes with the band.  Listening to the record over and over was wearing on me.  After the gig I headed to another bar to meet up with some friends.  The solitary walk to the next bar was a beautiful piece of loneliness fit between two loud bars.  I’ve come to indulge in the lonely moments in my days.  I don’t know why.  I love my friends, I love love, but I love to hear myself think as well.  There’s a pinch of masochism involved as well I’m sure.  I’m looking forward to getting back to the notebook and writing some new tunes.  

$1.25

I’ve been listening to my record.  Its a bit strange that all these songs I’d sing to myself in my room are no longer as private.  I feel a bit like I’ve turned in my toll of tunes and must start over writing songs that noone’s heard but me.  I get off on the idea that I’m singing a song to myself that noone else has ever heard.  Noone can sing the words to the song I’m singing, they can only listen, and only if I sing it for them.  Art can make a man a god even if only to himself.

The Routine

There’s a train stuck on the tracks that cross my street. How fitting.  Everyday seems to stumble drunk into the next. I feel like progress is something I’ve lost touch of. Then I’ll write a song, and I’ll play it to myself, and maybe I’ll play it for someone else, and those worries don’t bother me anymore. I’ve been out of college for a few months short of a year now and I’ve begun to find a routine that suites me. There are two nights a week that I go to play an open mic at one of the local bars. A couple other nights a week I might be playing a paying gig somewhere, and on Sundays I’ve found an uptown dive that plays old obscure country 45′s all night long. My days are spent writing, playing, and working on the business side of my music. As for now, I make little more than I need. I’ve thought of picking up a part time job somewhere, maybe find a mechanic looking for some help.  I’d love to have the know-how to be able to buy an old cruise and fix her up. To trade my solitary mornings spent writing and playing for some extra cash and mechanical skills has yet to entice me enough yet. Perhaps tomorrow.

Good News

I’ve been pretty awful at this journal thus far. Just three posts in a couple of months is pretty poor. I have redeeming news though. My first record I have been attempting to put together has taken a fortunate turn as I have caught the ear of a grammy award winning record producer, Trina Shoemaker. She’s produced records from Sheryl Crow, Emmylou Harris, Queens of the Stone Age, Whiskey Town..  I’ll be heading up to Nashville to make the record with her in April/May.  “Nashville” is a bit unnerving, but Trina is from New Orleans and moved to Nashville after the storm, so I don’t think I’ll have to worry too much about the “Nashville” influence.  Looking forward to cutting the record..

Odd Jobs

I’ve spent my past few months playing open mics, shows, writing, and picking up odd jobs that come and go like bad ideas. The only job I’ve really enjoyed lately has been building fences. I’m sure it’s something to do with building something with my hands or getting payed by the job rather than the hour, but it also reminds me of Robert Frost’s poem, the name of which escapes me, that tells of him meeting with his neighbor every season at the stone wall that separates their properties and replacing the fallen stones as they walk along the wall. I don’t think Mr. Frost thought very fondly of his fence, but I enjoy building fences all the same. My need for occasional fence jobs and fickle labors has diminished slightly as I have picked up a weekly gig playing tunes at a bar called Dino’s on Tchoupotoulas every Wednesday. It’s a great little bar, though not much of a music joint. My stage is the barroom floor backlit by video poker machines that I block as a play pissing off the occasional gambling patron. Thats all I can complain about though. The bar owner loves the music and the patrons seem to be warming up to the guitar man in the corner who has invaded their corner bar every Wednesday.

The Bloginning

This Weblog is an attempt to catalogue my experience as a songwriter and performer searching for sustenance in every sense.  My love for a craft that rarely proves lucrative begs the question of how I plan to sustain myself financially. Aside from my music, I am unemployed, so I have taken it upon myself to make my music a business as well as an art. This art/business juxtaposition is the hazey line that seems to be getting dimmer.  The radio is no longer the hub for artists that it used to be. The line between art and entertainment doesn’t matter to the commuter who turns on their radio.  There is no doubt that in this day it takes more than a real art to be recognized or make money. In 2007 the self-proclaimed “starving artist” will indeed starve, and though I hardly mind being poor, there is no need to be a martyr. If the craft I love does not sustain me on it’s own, I must adapt or die (i.e. surrender to a desk job).  It is important to make the distinction that in no way do I intend to tailor my music to be more sellable, but rather I intend to tailor my business to market my music.  There is no dominante artistic revolution today, but there is always a longing for genuine human contact through music, a feeling that a songwriter could not have spoken more directly to the listener when in fact the songwriter was simply speaking of themselves. There is a universally identifiable part of humanity that I am attempting to tap into simply by tapping into the humanity in myself. Well, that’s all of the campaigning I will be doing in this blog. I’m going to bed.