You don’t get called for the big gig, but the bar isn’t super high for the gigs you get called for. It’s easier to impress, make an impact. Be the talk of the scene for a minute.

Once you’re established, that’s when it gets interesting. People know what you can do, pay you more, and expect you to perform. The pressure isn’t more or less, it’s just different. You have a reputation. When you show up in a room, people trust they called the right person.

New artists worry established artists will get picked because they’re proven professionals. Established artists worry that new artists will get picked because they’re eager, new/buzzy, and maybe cheaper.

The trick is remembering you’ve got leverage in either stage, so there’s no need to pretend about what you bring to the table.

Many musicians, especially ones that are struggling with feeling unseen and insignificant (which might be all of us from time to time), do the equivalent with metrics. How many monthly listeners did I have this month on Spotify? What was my engagement numbers on Instagram?

This feels like progress. It’s clean, factual, measurable. You’re trending up or down, and you control the direction (at least a little bit).

Making art, on the other hand, is messy, slow, nonlinear, and a little boring sometimes. It’s also extraordinarily hard to measure. Free Fallin, The Joker, Yesterday, and Smells Like Teen Spirit are all examples of how difficult it is to measure if the work you’re making is worth it in the moment.

If you make art, the only thing you can do is show up each day with your hands open, expecting to receive. The only outcome that matters is, did you make something at the end of the day that you think is interesting? You do the hard work, the way a child works hard at playing in the backyard. This is serious business, being this playful.

Productivity is great, and definitely check the numbers. It’s just easy to wake up at the end of a career and find you’ve spent most of it chasing the metrics, and not making very much art you’re proud of.

It’s rarely the people who are the most talented that end up doing well career-wise.

It’s usually:

• The person that is fairly talented (but not the most talented), and

• Is fun to be around

• Is consistent

• Is trustworthy

• Shows up prepared

• Is able to keep showing up in the music scene for a long, long time

This is great news for those of us not in the “super talented” category, because you can build all of the virtues above with practice.

It’s a wonderful keyboard, and has already made it on to several projects I’m working on.

But it’s really simple.

No onboard effects, no fancy oscillator types, and it’s only possible to play 6 notes at a time.

Because it’s simple, and what it does it does incredibly well, it’s the first thing I reach for when I need “that sound”.

It pays to be a generalist, and it’s important to be well rounded. But being clear about those one or two things you’re world class at will keep you in business.

I have just two choices with how I handle it in a healthy way:

1. I can change it. And if I can’t,

2. I have to accept it.

Of course, I could plan for the future to come up with better contingency plans, etc. But right here right now, those are the choices.

And no amount of worry, anxiety, stressing, or fighting against the way things are will give me any other choices.

Also, can’t have a title called “pivot” without at least one Friends reference.

Mix engineers who use gain staging set all audio tracks at uniform, controlled levels before touching the faders. This makes it easier to mix, without running out of headroom or introducing distortion.

The immediate, urgent, short term, and mundane will constantly be shouting for attention.

The long term, fulfilling, interesting, healthy, and most deeply satisfying will usually be too quiet.

Always gain stage before touching the faders.

Many farmers, ecologists, and gardeners are using everything from strategic grazing of cattle to closed loop farming techniques to retain and build the quality of their soil.

The thinking is simple: successful farming is mostly about how healthy your dirt is. Healthy soil = healthy plants = healthy livestock.

Healthy dirt launches a virtuous cycle of better yields, needing less pesticides, better resistance to severe weather, etc.

For musicians, dirt is our emotional, mental, physical, and spiritual health. And our art is the fruit that comes from tending them.

There’s nothing romantic, productive, or remotely logical about destroying health in the name of Art. Great art will come either because of healing and health, or in spite of being unhealthy.

When you listened on the radio to the latest single, or read the endorsements on the back cover of the latest book, we had to make an educated guess that when we got it home, we wouldn’t regret spending the time, opportunity cost, and money to buy the book or album.

Digital media changed that. We could listen to as much of any album as we wanted. We decide in real time if it’s worth the time spent.

There’s a few downsides to this:

1. We’re aware that there is a literal sea of choices that are instantly accessible for basically free

2. We constantly have to resist the urge to see what the “other options” are

3. We are always tempted to evaluate what we’re currently consuming instead of enjoying it

Maybe the biggest downside? When we make choices about what we think we want in the future, it’s usually better choices than we make in the moment when we’re tired, not feeling good, or stressed. (Most people don’t start diets today, they do it tomorrow).

. . .

Also, we don’t have to do any of the above, we can choose to listen through the entire album, read all the way through the book, etc. We just have to be deliberate, which takes a lot more discipline.

There’s a lot of positives music streaming has brought to the industry (I love that I can open Apple Music and listen to any song whenever I want). It’s also never been easier for artists to release music.

But as we hit 20 years into this experiment, the main question shouldn’t be “is this making money for artists?”. It should be “what kind of art has this system fostered?”

Distribution systems are curation systems by default. And curation means you’re responsible for what you curate, whether you’re using an algorithm or a human.

. . .

And before anyone says distribution systems aren’t responsible for the art they foster, some good examples of systems building culture is:

• the Medici family launching the Italian renaissance through the patron system

•the Northern European art gallery system launching Impressionism

•the birth of copyright and the New York book publishing system launching authors like Mark Twain and the rise of the American modernist writing style (Kerouac and Steinbeck)

The money works weird, and is rarely enough to justify the effort. The hours are screwy and usually long.

Opportunities pop up from seemingly nowhere, and at times talented people go for most of their careers without getting the chances they deserve.

But the most crazy thing? When musicians come into the music industry and expect it not to be crazy.

Work for change, set good boundaries, fight for better practices- that’s all very important. But don’t be surprised when you hop on the merry-go-round, if it keeps spinning in circles.

We usually say “grit”, “determination”, “hard work”, and other inspirational adjectives.

And of course, you need those character traits. Artists don’t move through hard times without them.

But usually what keeps us going is a few people close to us, encouraging us to not give up. And a wider community of people showing that what we’re doing can be done. (I’ve lived in Nashville for 12 years, and it’s one of the greatest examples of a community nurturing musicians in this way).

When you’re professionally struggling, be brave, dig in, work hard, be determined- you’re going to need it. But seek out community and support. That’s the only way to keep going.

So what do you do while you wait to get picked?

Building on yesterday’s post on ownership, waiting is when you build assets.

Obvious assets you can build during waiting are:

• Practicing a lot more than usual on things you don’t normally get to practice

• Posting more videos of you playing so potential clients can see what you can do

• Connecting with people in your industry

• Working overtime at a non-music job that can give you a financial buffer for when you can’t work overtime

Less obvious assets that many musicians overlook are:

• Building a platform that helps a specific group of people in your industry

• Looking for needs in your industry and helping (for instance, I helped run a free music industry meetup for the first 5 years I lived in Nashville)

• Creating businesses or income streams that don’t require you to actively work to receive money

Things that are crippling to do while you wait:

• Complaining constantly that you’re not getting work

• Comparing yourself to others in the industry

• Quitting on your career the moment things slow down

Musicians desperately need to reframe this cycle. When we show up, we’re building:

• A deep understanding of clients needs

• An ability to quickly assess and deliver quality craftsmanship in the heat of the moment

• The knowledge to understand our equipment and use it properly in a way that hobbyists can’t

• A reputation in a very tight knit community for being excellent at our jobs

• A network of people that also work in our field

These are valuable, hard earned assets, and assets imply ownership. If we’re smart, we’ll leverage this to benefit ourselves and the community around us.

Modern player pianos can play any song ever transcribed, with convincing emotion. Yamaha is even creating a piano that uses AI to create generative accompaniments.

Yet if you walk through the lobby of a fancy hotel, there’s a often musician plunking away on a piano.

Why bother paying someone close to $100 an hour to come play music when we’ve literally perfected player pianos? Player pianos play perfectly for as long as you want, never need a break, have an unlimited repertoire, and never get sick. They’re only slightly pricier than a regular piano, and a bargain when you consider the money you save on pianists.

When people hire musicians, it’s rarely just for their technical skills.

People hire musicians to show status, because “that’s always been the way we do it”, to care, to make the music feel important, to bring personality. Musicians who support a vibe during the process, bring emotional understanding and input, create unexpected surprises, encourage, provide human interaction, and bring expertise and momentum that goes beyond the project get picked first.

As we enter the age of endless virtual musicians that can churn out perfect performances, somebody is still going to keep showing up in the proverbial hotel lobby. And it’s probably the musician who can do the soft skills the best.

1. The monetary perspective. How can I record my music at a price that allows me to recoup my money in the next few years through streams and physical product?

2.  The consumer perspective. What’s the minimum amount of money that I can spend to get my songs released, at a production level that will satisfy my audience?

Most artists spend most of their career thinking about recording the first two ways. But there’s a few more.

3. The career perspective. How do I make recorded music that will excite my audience enough that they’ll come to my show, or maybe even adopt my music as part of their identity?

4. The artistic perspective. How do I create recorded music that represents my artistic vision and identity, while continuing to explore new musical territory?

5. The legacy perspective. How do I make recorded music that fits into my overall creative arc as an artist, and leaves a body of work at the end of my career that feels like a cohesive narrative?

A few thoughts:

• All of the above are valid ways to approach recording music.

• Fans and markets will tell you they want you to focus on the first perspective, but they really want you to create music with the last perspective.

•It’s gotten increasingly hard to recoup money on your art if you stick only with the monetary perspective. Yet for some strange reason, it feels like more artists than ever are doubling down on this way of making music as the only viable metric.

• The older you get, the more you will wish you focused on no. 3 through 5 perspectives, but you will constantly feel the pressure of no. 1 and 2 perspectives throughout your entire career.

• The further down the perspective list you go, money becomes less and less of the driving metric, and the quality of work becomes the focus.

• If you stay in the first two perspectives without eventually including the last three, it’s highly unlikely you’ll ever make transcendent art.

Put it right in the middle of your living room. Get it tuned so it sounds great.

Put books about music and sheet music around the piano. Leave it out so it’s easy to see and immediate to use. Put a loud Bluetooth speaker nearby or a stereo system.

If you play guitar, put an acoustic guitar by the piano.

Then leave your phone in the kitchen. Put it on ring if you need to, but make it slightly harder to get to instantly.

Then play it every day. Don’t worry about how good you sound, just do what you can. Play along with the stereo system to your favorite songs, even if you don’t know how to play them. Enjoy it. Relax. Be goofy, have fun.

. . .

We default to using the things we have close by, easily accessible. Building a richer life starts with putting the things we believe are important within arm’s length. And removing the things that distract and dominate to the other room.

Inside, my cousin and music artist Warren Barfield sits on the edge of a small stage. There’s about 100 people in the room, waiting for Warren and I to play. Warren strums a few chords while talking to someone on the front row. The man’s flown from California, to hang out in a barn with strangers during the Christmas season.

There’s some neighbors and family, but most in the room share the same story- coming from miles away to a small barn in the middle of nowhere to sing Christmas carols together.

Without a word, Warren starts the intro to an original song, and the night begins. The little gathering sings together, rattling the rafters of the barn with “Hark The Herald Angels Sing” and “Oh Come All Ye Faithful”. Warren pulls members of the audience onstage to sing and play music. The space feels less like a concert and more like a very close-knit family coming together for Christmas.

Warren is a tremendously talented musician and crowd-worker, and he bends all of his talent toward creating magic for the audience. He’s so good at it, I don’t once think about how good he is at it.

On the break, I step outside. All the stars are shining down bright enough you can actually make out the faint, darker outlines of Warren’s cattle in the field across the lake.

. . .

What is art? What does art look like when living in an age of technological breakthroughs, the latest being A.I. models that can almost perfectly mimic any artist on command?

I just finished reading Makoto Fujimura’s latest book, “Art Is”. Makoto is an artist who paints with precious metals using a painstaking Japanese method called Nihonga. It requires hundreds of layers of precious metals to be ground up and layered on a canvas. The technique might be the slowest and most costly way to create art in the world, at a time when all market pressures push artists to crank out cheap, fast, easy-to-digest art.

Makoto argues in the book that in times when art has been “polluted”, we must focus on creating work that is generative and restorative. In dark cultural times, we must make art that is generational, time consuming, costly to make, provocative, generative, non-dualistic, trans-political, and if necessary, completely illogical to make from an economic standpoint.

Makoto’s biggest strength in the book is he makes some points by the written word, and other points using only the illustrations of his artistic process. He has authority to make bold claims, because he’s made sacrifices his whole life to practice a slower, richer form of art. He has street cred. And it’s hard not to be inspired by the vision he paints.

. . .

There’s a trio of kids onstage with their mom. Mom is strumming an acoustic guitar, twanging out a three part harmony with her kids of “Star Of Bethlehem”. Warren must have known they were killer musicians, and pulled them up onstage. The youngest son glances over, giving me a sheepish grin mid verse.

This is crazy. It doesn’t scale. It makes no business sense. Who ran the profit projections and growth models on the show and gave the green light?

You can’t bring the random talented people you pull onstage around the country, they have lives and careers. You can’t have Warren’s dad spontaneously lead everyone in an old gospel hymn every night, it wouldn’t be spontaneous anymore. Warren could never have the strength to talk to every person in the crowd every night. It just doesn’t work.

It’s special. It’s precious. It’s scarce. It’s impossible to repeat. It’s real human to human connection. Its talent practiced for decades, fostered, cared for, honed, and curated. It’s the dedication to the subtleties of the art that almost no one will notice, but all will feel. It’s slowed down and savored. It’s just the right kind of surprises. It’s trust. It’s serving an audience for a long, long time with integrity. Its vulnerability. It’s refusing to play the short game when the pressure is on. It’s rooted in the past while exploring the new. It pushing the boundaries of what’s allowed. It‘s irreverent to power, influence, and status quo, while affirming the sacredness of past traditions. It’s welcoming to all, but exclusive because few will make the time to enjoy it. It’s costly to both the artist and the audience.

This is what Art Is.

This holds tremendous wisdom for anyone trying to build better systems in their life or work.

Core Principles for Ecological Design (Permaculture) from “Mia’s Garden”

1.Observe. Use protracted and thoughtful observation rather than prolonged and thoughtless action. Observe the site and its elements in all seasons. Design for specific sites, clients, and cultures.

2. Connect. Use relative location, that is, place the elements of your design in ways that create useful relationships and time-saving connections among all parts. The number of connections among elements creates a healthy, diverse ecosystem, not the number of elements.

3. Catch and store energy and materials. Identify, collect, and hold useful flows. Every cycle is an opportunity for yield, every gradient (in slope, charge, temperature, and the like) can produce energy.

Reinvesting resources builds capacity to capture yet more resources.

4. Each element performs multiple functions. Choose and place each element in a design to perform as many functions as possible.
Beneficial connections between diverse components create a stable whole. Stack elements in both space and time.

5. Each function is supported by multiple elements. Use multiple methods to achieve important functions and to create synergies.
Redundancy protects when one or more elements fail.

6. Make the least change for the greatest effect. Understand the system you are working with well enough to find its "leverage points" and intervene there, where the least work accomplishes the most change.

7. Use small-scale, intensive systems.
Start at your doorstep with the smallest systems that will do the job and build on your successes.
Grow by "chunking" —that is, developing a small system or arrangement that works well-and repeat it, with variations.

8. Optimize edge. The edge-the intersection of two environ-ments—is the most diverse place in a system and is where energy and materials accumulate or are translated. Increase or decrease edge as appropriate.

9. Collaborate with succession. Living systems usually advance from immaturity to maturity, and if we accept this trend and align our designs with it instead of fighting it, we save work and energy. Mature ecosystems are more diverse and productive than young
ones.

10. Use biological and renewable resources. Renewable resources (usually living beings and their products) reproduce and build up over time, store energy, assist yield, and interact with other elements. Favor these over nonre-newable resources.

B. Principles Based on Attitudes

1. Turn problems into solutions. Constraints can inspire creative design, and most problems usually carry not just the seeds of their own solution within them but also the inspiration for simultaneously solving other problems. "We are confronted by insurmountable opportunities." —Attributed to Pogo (Walt Kelly).

2. Get a yield. Design for both immediate and long-term returns from your efforts: "You can't work on an empty stomach." Set up positive feedback loops to build the system and repay your investment.

3. The biggest limit to abundance is creativity. The designer's imagination and skill usually limit productivity and diversity before any physical limits are reached.

4. Mistakes are tools for learning. Evaluate your trials. Making mistakes is a sign you're trying to do things better. There is usually little penalty for mistakes if you learn from them.

The plots were predictable and kitschy enough to be soothing, and the concepts like helping the weak and choosing integrity above personal gain were good ideals to put into a young 8 year old's head.

All that rootin’ tootin’ is apparently expensive, so the Lone Ranger and his brother owned a silver mine that they’d found. The brother mined it and sent a bit of the silver to the Lone Ranger as his “share” of the mine. It financed the Lone Ranger's expensive silver bullets, and freed the Lone Ranger up to fight bad guys without stopping to earn a living. 

I’ve watched probably a 100 episodes at this point, and so far nobody has ever pulled the Lone Ranger aside and said “so this riding around and gunfighting is important work and all, but when are you getting a real job at honorable Mr. Jensen’s Bank? (hint: if they’re called honorable, they’re probably the bad guy)” 

Or “So what do you do for money? I mean, it’s fun to pretend at being a hero, but what happens when you want to settle down and actually get real with your life? Do you have a 401k plan or anything?” 

Or “you’re not a legit Lone Ranger because you don’t make 100% of your money from Lone Rangering.” 

Of course not. Because they get it. He’s doing important work. 

The Lone Ranger has dedicated his life helping the dusty old west thrive. It’s a tough job with little to show for it in the end, but it’s worth it because it’s good work. It’s noble work. It’s work that makes the world a better place. It’s what every creative should make their lives about- working to help life bloom in the desert. 

Of course, the big practical takeaway from the show is, if you choose a career path that doesn’t pay well, to have a silver mine somewhere off in the hills financing you 😂 (Here’s a link to my silver mine, if you’re curious)

There’s a place down the street from me in Nashville, TN (population one million and growing fast) that sells nothing but Nashville-style hot fish sandwiches. They are also busy every day.

If you’re in a small market, it probably makes sense to offer a little of everything. If you’re in a big market, drill down to a specialty.

(And if you sell stuff online from Pelham, TN, you’re still in a big market).