Jana Fisher's Blog

Losing My Muse: There and Back Again

2014-06-05T18:47:00.002-04:00

For the past year or so, I haven’t known what to say to people who asked me what was going on with my music. I’d usually say something like, “I’m busy doing other things,” or, “I’m taking a break,” all the while gritting my teeth to keep from saying that I was angry my songwriting had left me and I didn’t know if I would ever consider myself an artist again.

You see, I’ve been performing since I was four. Through everything, music had been the most stable chunk of my identity. But somewhere in my teenage years, making music became wrapped up in this grand idea of being Understood. I felt a lot of feelings that I didn’t know how to incorporate into my everyday life, and so I would pour them into my songwriting, creating music that was surprisingly dark and rage-filled for a quiet, mild-mannered girl, thinking that once I wrote the right song everyone around me would Get It.

I self-produced an album, played a ton of shows, and released an EP. I was really proud of what I’d accomplished. But when it came to being Understood, I’d gotten nowhere. Last spring, as I was working on a second music video from my EP, I suddenly found myself out of motivation. I simply didn’t know why I was making music anymore.

Hurt at being so resented, my muse packed up and left. I stopped humming to myself and thinking of lyrics while I rode my bike. This sudden absence of musical creativity was terrifying — if I wasn’t a songwriter, then who was I? I spent many days feeling lost as I tried to figure that out. But I made a bunch of new friends who didn’t know that part of my identity. I wrote a (terrible) NaNoWriMo novel. I started the long climb up the mountain to be assertive and expressive in my everyday life. I got really excited about my career in the music industry. And I started to see that I was a complete person even if I didn't happen to be a person who wrote songs.

Just as I was starting to feel okay in this new life without music, music started to come back to me— the little whispers of lyric ideas, the melodies caught in my ears. It startled me at first, like an old roommate who still had the keys to let herself in. But I tried to put away my judgments and just let it come. Last month, I wrote my first new song in a year.

And so now I’m playing my first show in nine months in Brooklyn on Saturday (shameless plug: it's at 7:30pm at Friends and Lovers!). But I have a completely different perspective on music than I did last spring.

The truth is that music doesn’t owe me anything. Music isn’t going to vindicate me or solve my personal problems. Music can’t make me Understood by the world. But music can be my friend during the wordless moments, a validation of complicated feelings, a way for me to aurally hug other people and tell them they’re not alone.

However much or little music decides to be in my life, I will accept it with an open heart full of gratitude, enjoying every small moment my fingertips graze the piano keys.

P.S. I was inspired to write this by this article on Rookie about a writer with writer's block trying to be a normal human. Maybe you'll enjoy it too.

Are Musicians Free?

2013-07-24T22:12:00.002-04:00

There's a kind of universal kinship among musicians. You see a great band and you're jealous. You see a bad band and you feel superior for being so much better. You see a mediocre band with undeserved attention and you wonder why that isn't you. But no matter who they are, there's a sense that you're all fighting the same fight, trying to make your voice heard and win the music lottery so you can stop sleeping in the van and living off bean tacos on tour.

Last night I saw a young band from Wisconsin making their way through the Northeast. I expected to feel that familiar jealousy that they were living the kind of life I should be living and the odd pride that my fellow musicians were getting people to stop and listen to them, but I felt none of that. I was just an observer, listening to their music and their stories about sleeping eight to a tent, no jealousy involved.

I'm not sure I want that life. Maybe I just thought I should, and you know how that goes…

I want freedom. But being a musician doesn't feel like freedom. It means that everything I save goes into the next record, and I can't just go travel wherever I want because my destination is dictated by the next market I need to build on the next underfunded tour. I want adventure (in the great wide somewhere … sorry, I couldn't help myself) but I don't think I just want to "freefall through life" (anyone else out there watching OITNB? Alex Vause, amiright????). I want my adventures to be controlled. I want a plan. I want to work my butt off, to be great at what I do, and to have a home base but also to see the world, to always be growing, to always have new experiences and then come home to tell my friends about them. I want it all.

I guess there are different kinds of freedom— freedom from a desk job and the freedom that comes with security. I happen to work in the biz, at the best job a girl could hope for, so I think I'm okay just having the latter.

Rebuilding, or Why I Haven't Made Much Music The Past Few Months

2013-07-17T21:49:00.001-04:00

Have you ever tried to make your life into a storybook, or thought about the story arc of your future biopic? Have you created a narrative for yourself and turned back to it for comfort when things didn't seem to go right? Have you let a self-imposed role tell you who you are?

What happens when you lose all that?

*******

Ten years ago, I wrote a song.

I had been going to a second youth group with my friend from cross country. I didn't know many people besides her, and I was painfully shy. She wanted to come early to talk to the pastor, so I killed time messing around on the piano. I came up with an original rift, took it home to some lyrics I had written in my bedroom, and after an hour or so of pounding it out I had "Numbness."

A History of Sleepwalking by Jana Fisher

Thus a confessional singer-songwriter was born.

No matter how shy or reluctant I was to express my emotions, I had songs to turn to. Every emotion got poured out (x10) in musical form. I thought that one day, the world at large would hear the songs and finally understand me.

I have to smile at that idealistic teenage dream. It never worked, of course. Even when they were heard, the songs seemed to always leave people more confused. Otherwise they were just overlooked as a quirk. And over time I grew to resent the mission of making the world get what went on inside my head.

(With lots of time, vulnerability, and effort, I can make a few friends understand. But in the end we're all alone inside our own heads, aren't we? Isn't that the human experience?)

I tried to guilt myself into making more confessional music. "But, Jana, the mission!"

It's not my mission anymore.

I'm not sure I even want to do this anymore.

Admitting that to myself has changed everything. I feel like I'm not only rebuilding my relationship to music, but also my whole life structure, how I see myself, what my life's about. It's beautiful and it's healthy... but boy is it uncomfortable.

First: If I'm not a confessional singer-songwriter, who am I? What are my defining qualities? Am I interesting, nuanced, worthwhile on my own? What kind of person do I want to be? Kind, adventurous, vulnerable, thoughtful, giving?

Second: If being a singer-songwriter is not my "destiny," do I still want to do it? Am I okay with the strong possibility that I might *gasp* fail? What kind of music would I make if no one were watching? Would I make music at all? Do I still have anything to say?

It's all rather complicated-yet-boring quarter-life crisis stuff—identity, purpose, goals, etc. It's funny, the kind of boxes we put ourselves in, the kind of baggage we carry with us. Not just with how we see our "destiny," but the roles we play in relationships, how we want people to see us. I still sometimes catch myself acting ditsy and cute to get people to like me. Every way in which I deny my true self has become painfully clear now.

What gives your life meaning? Write to me. I genuinely want to know.

"Trayvon is Dead and None of Us Are 'Not Guilty'"

2013-07-16T23:43:00.000-04:00

"The guy we call the Good Samaritan — even though he found this beaten, half-dead Jew, stopped, picked him up, took him to get help and even paid for it out of his pocket — he may very well have still hated the man and everything that he represented. The text didn't say that this was the only Samaritan in the region that happened to be a good guy, that he was somehow magically free of prejudice, or that he had entirely forgiven the Jews for everything that the Jews had done to the Samaritans. The choice that the Samaritan made in this parable was that when he was confronted by a person he undoubtedly saw as an enemy, he didn't have to decide about what he thought about Jews. He had to decide who he wanted to be."

Me vs. The Should Police

2013-05-01T12:38:00.001-04:00

I've spent years of my life living with a serious case of the "shoulds."

"I should practice more." "I should work out." "I shouldn't eat like that." "I should have more recordings done by now." "I should be in better shape." "I should live with less clutter."

Thoughts like this would nag me day in and day out, like secret weights inside my chest. No matter what happiness I was experiencing that day, it was always tinged with bittersweetness, because I wasn't yet the person I should be.

Every compliment was a double-edged sword. "That was a good song." Yeah, well, it should've been better.

And like any good rebel, I actively sought to shirk the incessant nagging. I should practice? Well I'll read articles online instead. I should de-clutter? I'll show you by buying more clothes. I should be more self-disciplined? I'll be lazier than you've ever believed I could be.

Every day was like this. Years were spent in quiet misery, not just because I wasn't ever good enough, but because I couldn't seem to create the life that I wanted.

But then I realized something. I shouldn't be superhuman. I shouldn't do anything. I want to have the life I want.

I don't play music because I should be a musician. I make music because I want to.

I don't exercise because I should be fit. I exercise because it feels awesome.

No Should Police are requiring me to make new recordings. I record music because I enjoy it!

Now every time I hear myself thinking that I should do something, I remind myself that no, I actually just want to. With this simple change, I have stepped out of my guilt suit.

And you know what? The life I want is already here. I've been living it all along.

Inspiration

2013-04-03T16:00:00.002-04:00

“Amateurs sit and wait for inspiration, the rest of us just get up and go to work.”― Stephen King, On Writing

I love this quote, but if I live by it, I have to put myself in the amateur category.

My songwriting process usually goes like this:

1) I'm screw around at the piano for funsies, come up with a phrase I like, and build a song around it.

2) A lyric comes to me and I build a song around it.

3) A melody comes to me, perhaps complete with lyrics, and I build a song around it.

I'm grateful to be flexible enough to have multiple processes, but all of them rely on waiting for inspiration. I've never sat down and said, "Okay, time to write a song. Let's get to work." The song has always chosen me.

So now I'm trying to work on a musical. Big huge exciting project! But also incredibly daunting. I just feel so stuck! I want to write the songs, I think about writing them all the time, but nothing just "comes" to me.

I've worn this groove in my brain of being dragged around by inspiration. More than once, I've gone a year without writing a song because inspiration never struck. But when it does strike, time flies. A song comes out in a magical process that I barely remember afterward, making me ask if I actually wrote that song at all. And when it's done, the song just feels right.

Forcing a song into existence, however, is not so fun. At least not yet. I'm going against the grain here, pulling teeth. And I'm addicted to the rightness of an inspired song. Every lyric I have to work for feels wrong, limp.

But. I don't want to be just the broken confessional songwriter anymore. I want to be a pro. And to be a pro I will have to learn to create without a blessing from an inspiration fairy.

So. I'm going to sit down and write. Every morning. Even if I come up with nothing. I need to wear new grooves in my brain, and the only way to do that is by being uncomfortable.

What about you? Can you work without inspiration? How does it feel? Any tricks/tips/encouragement?

On The Road: Haddonfield and Cape May (Complete with Photos and a New Song)

2013-03-27T22:54:00.000-04:00

Aaaaand we're back, after another whirlwind weekend! So nice to be home, though hanging out in sweatpants and doing laundry is quite a change of pace.

My first stop was Haddonfield, NJ, to play at Jersey Java and Tea. It's supposed to be a 90 minute drive, so I picked up my car (a tiny lightweight Honda Insight hybrid that gets rattled as larger cars speed by) around 3pm. We'd packed it up by 3:30pm and I was feeling confident we'd get there plenty early. But first I had to drive in Manhattan again. I have a weird inability to properly use my horn, so more than once Sam had to reach over and hit it for me, especially when I had to slam on the breaks because some truck misjudged his ability to pull out into traffic, but we got off the island little worse for wear (except that maybe I'd made Sam a little crazy).

I've been trying to cut back on coffee, but driving is a special circumstance, right? When we made a stop for gas, I got a soy latte and I must say it was delicious. Also I find New Jersey's policy of only full service gas stations to be a little unnerving. The attendant couldn't get my Zipcard to work and since I couldn't test it myself I couldn't tell if it was the card or him! And it takes longer, and there's always so many cars in line… /rant

The drive through Jersey didn't seem that long, but it was 6:30 by the time we arrived at Jersey Java. Oops. I had 30 minutes for a quick soundcheck and to change out of my driving clothes. Then I'd left my makeup in the car and had to apply it in the rearview mirror and hope I didn't look like a clown.

I started playing around 7 and it sounded surprisingly great in there! I pulled out some of my favorite "deep cuts" ("A Thousand Miles" anyone?) and played continuously for two hours. Some strangers wandered in and sat attentively on the couches facing my keyboard. One guy even stayed the whole time.

The baristas offered to have me back, which is always a good sign since they don't have much choice in listening. Some friends showed up near the end so we stuck around after the show talking to them and drinking more coffee (I had more driving to do, okay?!).

We left at 9:30 and scarfed down some lentil rice salad in the car before hitting the road again. I usually get pretty hyper after a show, but I was unusually hyper from the combination of adrenaline and caffeine as we drove down to Cape May. We jammed out to Marina & the diamonds and Ellie Goulding (and maybe Lady Gaga, don't tell) and I was bouncing in my seat, feeling pretty jittery and goofy driving in the dark.

We arrived at the Merion Inn around 11:15 (again, 30 minutes before my set). I walked in with a pretty huge backpack on but the room was set up so that we would have had to walk right in front of the performer before me. So of course I backed up and completely knocked over the hostess's stand, disassembling a lamp and spilling all sorts of menus on the floor. It's not a party until Jana knocks something over, right?

I was the last performer of the night, but the dozen or so people there were incredibly attentive (besides the couple making out at the bar, who were attending to each other). My friend Allison Tartalia from back in the DemoTape days was there, having played earlier in the night. I had different sets planned out for each night at Cape May, so this one was a combo of soft/pretty and super dark. I played a new song called "The Clincher" which I had thought was a bit of a weird one, but it was really well received.

I loved that piano and that room. Sam ordered tea and the owner brought out a whole box of herbal teas for her to choose from. I ordered Coke which was actually RC Cola (more caffeine!!!!). I said hi to the other performers and then we headed to the hotel.

We checked in at 1am and discovered that our hotel room was actually a suite with a full kitchen. The best use we made of it all weekend was to make ramen (actually a Trader Joe's rice noodle bowl, but you get the picture) which we ate that in front of the TV in our pajamas. We were both too wired to sleep so instead we watched Employee of The Month, me without contacts in (I'm blind enough that I couldn't really see anyone's facial expressions) until finally falling asleep at 3am.

Getting out of bed the next morning was torture, but we dragged ourselves to Bella Vida Cafe where I could actually order a tempeh reuben with Vegenaise and a gluten-free wrap. Delicious! After that we drove around a while, walking on the beach and freezing, driving by beautiful Victorian houses so Sam could take pictures, and then walking down the pedestrian mall and ending up at a coffee shop called Magicbrain Cybercafe (welcome back to the 90s!) with a little upstairs loft where we sat a while.

We attended a couple of conference sessions and then had dinner. My next set was in the main bar that was sort of in the center of everything. I got changed and I must've looked the part because a nice couple bought a CD without even hearing a note. (I couldn't talk them out of buying A History of Sleepwalking though, so who knows if they'll be back.) Everyone in that room was chatting and having a good time when the performer before me got out from behind the piano, stood on a table, and recited a long poem. Awkward…

I played my set, having a hard time staying focused because of all the people chatting, saying hi to me behind the piano, and putting cameras in my face. No one seemed to notice though. Allison Tartalia was after me (same bill again!) and then we headed back to the hotel.

As always, I loved getting out of the city to play. Even if out-of-town shows are under-attended, the people are always so appreciative and open to new music. Take that, New York! :)

Livin' Large

2013-03-06T14:18:00.003-05:00

Have you ever been out with friends, laughing and dancing past midnight, and felt so alive that the rest of your life seemed to lose its importance in comparison?

I have. And it's a lie.

Not that staying out late isn't fun. It is. But I think that we youngsters, especially we youngsters who escaped from a small city to a larger one, have a tendency to think that going out is important.

It's important to us that we create a life different from the one we had before, be that a small town life or just a conflicted teenage life. So we try to "experience life to the fullest" and pepper our conversations with "YOLO." We're not really sure what that means though, so we throw ourselves at big city experiences with the intensity you're supposed to reserve for your life's work, seeking out new spaces to have 5-hour alcohol-fueled conversations with friends until we have to drag ourselves to the subway to go home. We tell ourselves we're living large.

What if we're missing the point? What if blowing off all this steam is a poor subsitute for creating the life we want?

Maybe living in the moment isn't going out on a Tuesday; maybe it's sitting in meditation and feeling peace in the silence. Maybe living large isn't spending all your money to feel cool at a club; maybe it's chasing your dreams and doing the hard, foolish work to make them happen.

In our twenties, we feel like we have to pack in all our living because once we get "old" we'll turn into family/career zombies, so we pour all our energy into these fun times we think are what we're supposed to do in our twenties. But what if twenties-style fun actually facilitates us becoming zombies later? What if we poured our energy and young foolishness into having impractical goals and creating the life we want, a life that we'd want to live even when we're "old?"

After all, you only live once.

On The Road: Philadelphia & Harrisburg

2013-02-18T19:59:00.000-05:00

Wow, what a whirlwind! This weekend was a number of firsts for me: first Philadelphia show, first Harrisburg show, first time driving a car in Manhattan, first time being an hour and a half late for soundcheck, first time losing my laptop…

I love driving, but I've been terrified of driving in Manhattan ever since I got here. I'm the person who closes her eyes when the cab I'm riding in swerves in and out of lanes to avoid traffic. When I picked up my Zipcar (a cute red Ford Focus hatchback named Fettucine) on Friday afternoon, my heart was pounding and I was muttering nonsense to myself the whole time. Once I picked up Sam in Tribeca, I was hit by a wave of "Yeah! I can do this!" Scratch that off the bucket list!

We crossed the Brooklyn Bridge to pick up Brett and his keyboard. The car turned out not to have the amount of storage space I thought it would and for a time Brett was sitting cross-legged with the keyboard where his feet should be. By the time we picked up James, another rather tall guy, we figured out we could put one of the seats down and make the two men sit next to each other in the backseat.

We hit crazy traffic on Staten Island, and for a while moods were still high and the guys were jabbering away. After about an hour of sitting in traffic, I said "Uh, I think we're going to miss soundcheck. It's 4:30 now and we're supposed to be there by 6." Brett called MilkBoy and let them know we'd be there around 7, but that sounded pessimistic to me. Unfortunately we hit more and more traffic and then missed an exit because Siri doesn't speak loud enough to be heard over music and man voices, so by the time we got there I was stressed and jittery and it was actually 7:20. Thankfully the headliner was late too! Brett and I had a simple setup and just had to line check so it was all good.

Brett played first, and it was nice but also surreal to watch him play. I'm so used to singing on stage with him and I know the words to all of his songs! For once I got the chance to observe his passion from the audience and I really enjoyed it. He dedicated his new song "Expiration Date" (one of my faves!) to me while I ordered tofu scramble before the kitchen stopped serving food.

After my set I scarfed down my breakfast-for-dinner and sat back to watch soul singer Brian Owens. We said goodbye to most of our Philly friends, checked into our hotel in Old City, and then went out for midnight tapas at a swanky 50s-style diner/lounge. In New York, a place like that would've been packed, but they sat all 6 of us without a wait! By the time we left, the Philly scene was winding down and we were amused by all the drunk girls losing their shoes as they tried to hail cabs home.

Saturday morning we checked out of the hotel and had a lovely brunch (tofu scramble and vegan chorizo for me!) before Sam and I left for Harrisburg. We drove through Lancaster County and passed signs for places like "Dutch Wonderland" and "Noah! The Experience." We got to Harrisburg in time to attend one conference session, "Mistakes Musicians Make" by producer Jason Rubal, which gave me a new perspective on focus and work ethic. I made myself give him a CD which was torture for me since I'm not a salesperson at all, but he was nice about it. I've been thinking about his session ever since.

Back at the hotel, I went to get out my laptop to find a place to have dinner. Because of my dietary restrictions (gluten free vegan FTW), I had researched restaurants beforehand and I knew there was a list on my computer. I looked into my backpack and froze. The laptop slot was empty! I was so busy making sure no one else left anything in the Philly hotel that I had left my own laptop! Trying to stay calm, I called the last hotel and fortunately they found it in the room where I'd left it and held it for me. Whew.

The venue where I played was a beautiful restaurant in downtown Harrisburg with a gorgeous grand piano. I slowed down my songs to fit the mood of the place and was well received.

Afterward we hung with a friend of Sam's from college and two women at the bar stopped by to get a CD. I was impressed with all of the other singer-songwriters who played after me. Such talent in this world!

Sunday morning, we drove back to New York (stopping in Philly to get my laptop, of course). Once home we immediately took a nap. I was exhausted! But I loved driving, getting to see new cities and old friends, and playing for new people. There's a sense of freedom in traveling like this, but also a sense of connectedness. Everywhere you go, there are people who connect to music and will appreciate what we do. Hopefully we can do this again soon!

Getting Out of Town

2013-02-06T14:16:00.000-05:00

New York is a wonderful music community. There are hundreds and hundreds of shows going on here every night, venues for every genre (except maybe hardcore), and other musicians at your level no matter what level that is. For the most part, I love it. But New York infects music fans with the paralysis of choice. How can you ever pick just one show per night when there are so many? How can you enjoy the show you're at knowing you rejected so many others to be there?

When I played in Pittsburgh with Achordial Brio and Jennifer Vazquez, I was shocked at what respectful music fans lived there. The people packed Cannon Coffee for artists they had never seen before and they listened attentively to every note. In New York, the same show would've been played to a third the number of people, and they all would've been yelling over the music or checking their phones. And here I had thought such apathy was a universal experience.

So every now and then, I like to play out of town. Not just to meet new people and hopefully make new fans, but to put things back in perspective. If you've ever lived in NYC, you'll know that there's a constant feedback loop that makes everyone think they're living at the center of the universe. In reality, we just live in a different universe. No better, no worse, just different. Every now and then it helps to look from the outside in and see that again.

And so we're off! To Philadelphia, to Harrisburg, to Cape May. To play for new ears, to meet new folks, to see the country, to put things back in their place. I hope you'll join me!

Visit the shows page for more info.

The Psychology of Mediocrity (A Page From My Journal)

2013-01-16T20:28:00.002-05:00

I resist practicing because it makes me feel incompetent. And then I feel incompetent because I haven't practiced. Pretty stupid. At least if I'm incompetent, I'll prove myself right. I won't ever have to mourn a dream squandered by bad luck or circumstances out of my control. I'll be in control of my failure because I was the one who wasn't good enough, and I can blame myself. God, how idiotic.

Self, I know you're trying to protect me, but I don't want to be protected. I want to be great. I want to live my dreams, not just mourn them. Thanks for the effort! But we don't need that anymore. We're strong enough to handle putting ourselves out there, experiencing possible disappointment and all that jazz. We are grown up enough.

I know how much previous failures/insults/disappointments hurt, and I appreciate that you're trying to protect me from that, but I say no thanks. I can handle it. I can handle the uncertainty, and in fact I choose it. I choose to live dangerously, not knowing the outcome because I can only control myself, and I choose to be great!

Musicians Who Hate Watching Live Music

2012-12-10T12:15:00.001-05:00

Crowd types I've played to:

1) No one
2) Next to no one
3) The bartender and the one friend I least want to be there
4) A few of my friends using their cheers to try to double their numbers when they are the only people filling 25% of the room
5) A few of my friends drowned out by drunken frat boys who to their credit cheer wildly at "A Thousand Miles"
6) Friends forced in to whispered commentary by their proximity of the stage
7) A lot of my friends talking/eating/drinking/having a good time who stop their socializing to cheer wildly at the end of each song

The crowd I played to Tuesday night at Knitting Factory was entirely new. I got the lucky right-before-the-educational-panel slot, when everyone was ushered in from mingling in from the front room to be seated in folding chairs and LISTEN. And listen they did until they could close each song with a golf clap. I had about two friends in the audience (sorry promoter) so they weren't there to turn the tide. Not much energy to feed off, just me alone on stage with Elliott, staring past the blinding lights to the silhouettes of musicians silently reciting their elevator pitches so they could storm the panelists after I was done. I didn't feel like entertainment. I felt like a hurdle for these people to jump through.

I'm already pretty shy and networking-averse, but there's not much that sounds worse to me than being the next person in line trying to sell her music to an "industry player." So I barely spoke to anyone. Haha. We'll need to get over that. The shy, sensitive "poet" types don't get very far these days.

Neither do artists without funds, as evidenced by the band who brought $20,000 worth of equipment to play a 5-song set. But that's another story for another time. :)

What is it about musicians that keeps us from enjoying someone else's music? Part of it is that we see the other's flaws, yes. But also I think we're all terrible at living in the moment, particularly when there's a chance to promote ourselves coming up in 30 minutes. We're all about the future, the next step, the bigger concept… not today, this note, this moment.

I wonder if my anxiousness when listening to other musicians is a symptom of the larger problem that makes me sometimes snap out of performing headspace mid-set and worry about the number of people in the room, whether they're having a good time, whether they feel like they have to be polite, etc. It's just really hard for me to stay in the present moment when my music is involved.

Maybe learning to listen attentively to someone else's songs and enjoy them at face value will be good practice for living in the moment.

Found my first resolution for 2013! :)

On Abandon As An Introverted Performer

2012-11-21T14:22:00.001-05:00

I'm at a point in my life where I'm hungry for advice. I'm eager for friends to give me concrete feedback and I'll take lessons from anywhere. Right now I'm pouring over what it means for me, as an introvert, to be a performer.

Some people go into a separate headspace to put on a show. They step into another character of who they think the audience wants to see. It's always been important for me to be genuine, so in performance, I've always tried to actually connect with my songs on stage, rather than just pretend I mean what I'm singing. I feed off the crowd's energy a little bit, but not the way that loud and boisterous artists do. Most of the energy and feeling has to come from inside of me.

Watching the AMAs the other night, you'd think that connection between song and performer was the last thing the fans wanted. Everything was about spectacle, weird outfits, and incongruous dance routines played out behind the artist as if she were too tiny to possibly hold anyone's attention. Even the emotionally vulnerable songs were spouted from heads with dead eyes. Is this what the industry thinks we want? Is this what we want?

That sort of smoke and mirrors just isn't me. I want to mean what I'm singing, and not just look like I mean what I'm singing. I want to have a real emotional abandon that lets each song swallow me. I want to connect with the audience too, but that part comes less easily. I get nervous. I worry about being observed. I fret that I'm boring everyone. (I'm a little defeatist, I know.)

Friday's show at SideWalk felt really good though. Before the show, I went downstairs to have a few quiet moments to myself. Then onstage with the piano on the side, I could launch my emotions into the wall and turn my head to the audience when I felt ready. It was a lovely mix between feeling like they were watching me and feeling like I was playing alone in my room.

Before I moved to New York, I could barely perform live. I had grown up singing solos in church, and that was one thing, but I playing original songs on piano was entirely different. I'd play these gigs at the college coffee shop where five people would come and I'd still be so nervous that my voice would shake and my hands would forget the chords. Now after three years of playing in NYC, I feel like I'm finally starting to get the hang of it. It goes to show that you can get better at anything with practice!

I'm so grateful that I played all of those bizarre gigs at weird bars to three people so I could get to this place where I'm starting to be confident and people are actually starting to come to my shows. And I'm so grateful to all of you who have stuck it out through my floundering to hear the songs that my nerves were obscuring. I'm learning that I don't have to be anxious at a show. Nor do I have to become someone that I'm not. You are coming to hear what comes from inside of me, and that's what matters.

Now what?

2012-10-18T08:09:00.003-04:00

The EP is out! I hope you are loving it and that the songs are old friends by now. I had my first-ever audio interview this weekend — for Higher Plain Music's new podcast — and we talked about how the three songs on Ideals & Deals are meant to be distinct characters whose stories round each other out. So when you hear the EP, you make not just one new friend, but three. :)

The EP release show was great! Derek entertained us with his piano wizardry and Jen made our guts wrench with her soulful singing. I loved seeing so many old (and new!) friends that night!

Me, Jennifer Vazquez, and Derek Bishop

Now what?

If I were a normal person, living in a normal city where people could afford things like cars and parking was free, I'd tour. Not a lot, just like, on weekends to do stuff around the Northeast. As it is, I'm going to make it back to DC (yay!) and hopefully some new places like Philly and Boston. (If you have any venues with pianos to recommend, please do! Makes my life a 124,234,124,984 times easier.)

In November, I'll be playing a long afternoon set at Kávé in Bushwick, where you can have some coffee and hear some "deep cuts," and a show at SideWalk, which I plan to record and release as a live album! (Unless it sucks, in which case, forget I ever said this.)

Beyond that, I'm already planning on another EP for early 2013, tentatively titled Torch and containing 4-6 songs— probably "Nothing To Say To You," "What We Meant," and "Wildflowers," for sure.

It's weird— I expected I'd feel some sense of accomplishment once the EP came out and the release show was over. As it is, I can't stop thinking about the next thing. But I suppose not obsessing over what I can't change and looking forward to the future is its own accomplishment in itself. :)

"Ideals & Deals" Now Available

2012-10-02T00:39:00.003-04:00

It's here! Ideals & Deals is officially a thing. Download it for free here!

Your download comes with liner notes that include photos from the "30k" video, lyrics, and credits, so you'll be all set for that Ideals & Deals sing along party you were planning.

If you're old school, I've got little homemade Ideals & Deals CD packages for sale on Bandcamp.

The EP is also available on iTunes, Amazon, Spotify, etc, etc.

I've had so much fun with this whole adventure— from recording the EP over three jam-packed days to shooting the "30k" music video to making homemade CD packaging— that I don't know why I didn't do this sooner! Thank you for everyone involved in the recording process— Brett, Brian, Elliott, Shawn, Ali, Perry, Richard— for helping my spazzy self make something to be proud of. And thank you to everyone else who has encouraged me at any point whether you realized it or not. It's because of you I haven't quit music to become a lawyer (or a monk).

If you're in the NYC area, you should party with me next week to celebrate the EP release! I'm joined by my wonderful and talented friends Derek Bishop and Jennifer Vazquez at Gizzi's in the West Village. Come have dinner and a show and get a free CD!

Thursday, October 11 @ 6:30pm
Gizzi's
16 W 8th St, New York, NY
www.gizzisnyc.com
No cover! Free CDs for all!
7pm: Derek Bishop
8pm: Jennifer Vazquez
9pm: Jana Fisher
RSVP to the Facebook event!

I'll be the one wearing the silly grin all night.

See you then!

Jana

P.S. If you haven't seen the "30k" video yet, go watch it! It's getting some nice press.

All The Good News (About "30k")

2012-09-26T22:09:00.004-04:00

"A one-woman show, she's her own webmaster, producer, designer and beyond." — Curve Magazine

I don't know how they figured that out about me, but yes, it's true. I'm running this show mostly by myself. This morning I've been designing digital liner notes for Ideals & Deals (which comes out on Tuesday!) and playing with merch designs. I've also been running my own publicity campaign, which in case you've never done, is depressing as sh*t. So I'm going to take a minute to celebrate all the good things people have been saying about "30k!"

"'30K' is a testament to the exploratory ins and outs of hopping off the bus in New York City, and hoping against any odds that you'll make it there… In her video, she blogs that walking across the Manhattan Bridge represents the wide-eyed approach to transforming yourself, and then, as her costumes change, molding into a city girl—and eventually as simply yourself." — Curve Magazine (not to play favorites but this one's my favorite)

"'30k' … is spunky, upbeat and good to foot tap to. What we wouldn’t do for that eh Jana?" — Higher Plain Music

"I love this catchy pop song, from a good girl with a great voice. So close your eyes and enjoy the magic." — My So-Called Gay Life

Not to mention all the great YouTube comments!

It has also been featured on:
Skope
DIGA @ Stetson
Kings of A&R
Gay Qube
Mad Mackerel

I'm not good at bragging so I appreciate when people do it for me. :)

I feel like I'm fighting the Internet, and I will win only with a thousand tiny cuts. I just have to keep fighting! So thanks for indulging me in this little pep talk. And if you haven't watched the video yet, go do it! I wouldn't be bugging you so much if I weren't so proud of it and certain you'd enjoy it. (While you're at it, please watch it 1000x and leave a comment. plzyou'llmakemydayokthx)

xo

Update: New feature from SheWired! "You don't want to miss the sweet, angelic voice of this self-described 'lyrical folky piano pop' artist."

Living My Songwriting (Or "A Self-Help Blog")

2012-09-21T15:12:00.004-04:00

So I am used to be a crazy person. The kind of person who experienced emotion too strongly for her own good. I cherished the hurt inside my heart because I thought it was precious— because most people walked around not feeling anything, so I had to feel enough for them as well. (Rather presumptuous of me.)

I thought emotional depth made me Special. I was looking for any reason to think that God had Chosen me. I needed an excuse to think there would be more to my life than what there was. And so I wrote A History of Sleepwalking, which I saw as an honest tale of living with the darkest emotions and finding a way to be true to your faith.

No one got it, of course. People usually got hung up on the song about Internet porn. My opus was lost! (How melodramatic.)

Thankfully I learned not to take myself quite so seriously. But there is something to be said for innocence, the way we experience every moment of life with the utmost intensity before we are hurt. I thought life as an adult meant not being ruled by my emotions. I matured, I grew a bit less self-righteous, but I also caged my emotions in little song boxes, compartmentalizing everything so it was only experienced when I sang.

Then I was confronted with the canyon I've created between Song Jana and Day-to-Day Jana. Song Jana could sing about selfless love in "If I Ever Break Your Heart" (if you haven't heard it yet, it's on Ideals & Deals, yay!) but Day-to-Day Jana could never admit to feeling that way. It would be weakness!

Then it hit me. Not showing weakness is a weakness. Not showing emotion is silly. I only have one life! What's the point of pretending not to be The Girl Who Feels?

So I'm trying to live my songwriting, take that emotional intensity that I've packaged up so nicely in chords and lyrics, and spread it out across my so-called mundane life.

We shouldn't write to escape how boring our lives are. We should act to make them unboring, and writing should be an overflow of how richly we live.

Self-help blog over.

"30k" Music Video

2012-09-17T07:52:00.002-04:00

What would you do for 30k?

Writing My Own Story

2012-08-24T08:54:00.001-04:00

Being a one-woman operation here, getting ready for an EP release means that I do everything. I'm the webmaster, the graphic designer, the publicist, and the distributor, as well as the singer/songwriter/pianist/producer. It means that when I have a particularly bad case of insomnia, I use the extra hours awake to redesign my Myspace (yes, I haven't recognized that site's futility enough to delete mine yet) and decide on a font for the EP cover.

It also means that I have to write my own bio.

Writing my own biography is hard. Not just because it's awkward (though also amusing) to quote myself. But because so many different stories make up my life and I have to choose just one arc, make it neat, and have it end sounding like I've arrived at some destination of maturity/self-actualization/blah blah.

I'm an introvert with many floating "free traits" that I'm in the habit of presenting in different combinations. I'm used to telling different parts of my story to different people. And now I have to choose one and let it be how the world sees me?

I choose the preacher's kid arc because it's the most concrete. It's something unique about me— much more interesting than, for example, the story of struggling to be okay with doing music rather than continuing to pursue academics— and it's a big part of my identity. But it's hard to convey that story to people who haven't lived it. The bio makes it sounds like I've built my identity on rebelling against that role, but that's not it. I still play that role every day.

The problem with making that "my story" is that it makes it seem like the book is closed. In reality it's hard to make understood something that I don't even completely understand myself.

I guess that's why most people wait until the end of their lives to write autobiographies— to have the insight that comes with hindsight.

Behind the Scenes of the "30k" Music Video

2012-08-15T07:55:00.000-04:00

(First things first, start with your soundtrack.)

Apparently non-bicyclists don't realize there's a park at the Brooklyn entrance to the Manhattan bridge. Whoops.

I learned that the hard way when we were supposed to meet there to shoot the "30k" music video and both Bill the director and Asia the makeup artist got lost. I just sat there quietly practicing my Zen.

The main concept for the video is that I cross the Manhattan bridge as a wide-eyed and hopeful transplant and change clothes for each verse as I try harder to fit the mold of what I think will make me a city girl. We decided to shoot the part on the bridge first because it we were trying to beat the rain.

It started raining the second my makeup was done. But that's okay, wet concrete looks awesome!

For verse 2, I turn super hipster with my little fedora and vest and junk. By then it had stopped raining. Go figure.

Now that I've reached the peak of coolness, I'm totally bored.

I was nervous about verse 3 because I'd be putting on clothes I'd never wear under normal circumstances. For one, I don't wear heels. Period. Because I'm a huge klutz. I come within inches of spilling an entire water bottle on my computer about once a week. But I had 4+ inch clonkers to strap to my feet. Then I was supposed to wear this tiny dress, fake eyelashes, and the whole nine yards. I changed under the bridge using a huge t-shirt (during a red light, of course. ugh) and then kept the t-shirt on to get my makeup done.

This is actually a music video about glam zombies.

But once the transformation was complete, I had fun with it. I almost believed it could work (until I had to walk anywhere. Those awful shoes kept me grounded).

Yup, this happened.

Verse 4 took place after a long night out, all that beautiful makeup smudged. I looked terrible.

I swear I'm not crazy! I just had my eleventh cup of coffee!! Isn't that awesome???

Then woohoo! The hard part was done. Asia took off my makeup so I could breathe and go eat vegetarian meatballs.

We competed with a couple taking their wedding photos near Brooklyn Bridge Park in Dumbo so I could be an incognito hoodie-wearer carrying a suitcase. Obviously the video shoot was way more important. Duh!

Wouldn't you want your wedding photos taken in front of a lovely power plant?

Then we went back to Bill's apartment so I could play the narrator — a nice girl in a dress singing into the camera from a basement.

There's a spotlight halo behind me. Just another day at the office!

It was 8pm when we wrapped! So we went down the street for dinner and celebratory drinks. It was a carnivore restaurant so I had braised collard greens and roasted potatoes and a cocktail called Hemingway's Daughter. (Why didn't I take pictures of my food??)

I've developed this sort of jealousy that actors get to be different people all the time while I only get to have one life. But a music video is sort of a mini trip into other realities! I can't wait to share it with you (and do to it again).

Many many thanks to director William Murray (who also took these photos) and makeup artist Asia Werner for being super troopers and otherwise awesome!

Good Things

2012-08-08T16:47:00.000-04:00

I feel unprepared for good things.

Good things are easier to manage when they're far off in the distance, when they'll be ours sometime in the future when we meet some unattainable standard of worthiness. We spend so much time dreaming about them but keep telling ourselves we just aren't ready.

And then a good thing happens. And while we love it, it's scary. It hints at other impossible things. It demands that we stop making excuses for why we don't deserve the things we want and actually go after our goals.

Sometimes it's easier to reject the good things that come our way so we don't have to leave our comfortable anxiety. One good thing has the power to ripple through our entire self-perception and completely change a life.

I always had a thousand reasons why I wasn't ready to make new music. Now that it's finished, I feel like it was waiting for me all my life. What seemed like a Herculean task before I started ended up feeling entirely natural— a thing I will do again and again and again. A thing that opens the door to more adventures, more dreams.

We all come up with reasons why we're not special enough to have the things we desire most.

But guess what? We are.

We deserve good things.

The Political is Personal

2012-08-01T07:38:00.002-04:00

If the personal is political, and my songs are personal, then…

I usually refrain from ranting about politics, first of all because I feel like I'm not qualified. The closest I came to studying poli sci was History of French Civilization. I mean, come on. And secondly I feel like there's enough ranting in the world and I don't need to add to it.

Unfortunately, tensions are high in an election year, and in the Facebook era that means getting bombarded with everyone's off-the-cuff opinions and articles that support their viewpoints. I log on to the Book of Faces and skim through everything, usually to find myself stewing in my own frustration.

(Maybe I do that on purpose— going somewhere and reading stuff that I know will make me angry because I need something outward to direct my anger toward so it doesn't collapse inward. Maybe that's why everyone feels qualified to rant about politics, because it's a more acceptable form of aggression than punching someone ugly.)

It's not that I want everyone to agree with me. I'm pretty liberal, but I definitely appreciate well-reasoned arguments for small government when they actually come around. However, most of the political opinions I see are just so poorly reasoned! Opinions on all sides of this current Chick-fil-A madness have been so frustrating to me that I actually jumped in and posted this:

"With every purchase you make, you are voting with your dollars. Not just when you buy something from a company that's recently gotten bad publicity or is the subject of numerous Facebook memes, but EVERY time you buy something. There are so many issues to think about when you think about what companies you're supporting: fair labor practices, environmental waste, treatment of animals, use of carcinogenic chemicals… and yes, treatment of LGBT folk, to name only a few. I'm glad the Chick-fil-A issue is raising people's consciousness of what their purchasing power can actually do, but one CEO's insistence on "traditional marriage" is not the only hill to die on. And I don't eat chicken anyway. :)"

Amazingly, people on both sides seemed to appreciate it. I'm kinda thinking this is my cue to jump in and try to say things that are somewhat sane rather than just sitting back and trying to make things better by staying out of it.

And you know what? I'm already involved in politics. I eat vegan foods, a lot of which are organic and local, because I want my food choices to reflect my values. I use my bike to commute because I think that self-propelled transportation is a step we need to take toward sustainability. I'm a feminist (more about that some other time.) And I write songs that …

I've often wished that I knew how to write a good protest song à la Guthrie, Dylan, DiFranco. But my music is already political! It might be subtle, but I write about gender relations, struggles with religion, how love is the same no matter who I'm dating… And I'm a woman using my own voice and making a career for myself.

I guess maybe that does mean I'm qualified to talk about politics. Maybe we all are. Isn't each of us having our own voice the very point? ;)

This EP is brought to you by Obamacare

2012-07-24T07:43:00.002-04:00

Things are going great right now! The EP's in mixing, I've worked out plans to shoot a music video, and I think I've finally figured out what I want on the cover. I'm so looking forward to having new music out. (Sleepwalking came out waaaaaaayyyy too long ago!)

As to how I'm financing this project, I don't have a label, and I'm not planning on running a crowdfunding campaign — so put away your wallets! ;) This is something I'm doing for myself, on my own. When the time comes, you can support me by coming to shows and spreading the word. I have the money to pay for all of this myself… mostly because of Obamacare.

Let's back up.

So, as you may or may not know, I graduated college at 20. I came in with a lot of credits and I left early to get cracking on this music thing sooner rather than later. Up until graduation I had wonderful health insurance through my mom's employer, but as soon as my diploma was in hand I was given the boot.

Now in what world is a 20-year-old expected to have health benefits through their job? I suppose I could have gotten them by staying a latte slave at Starbucks, where I worked part-time during my unpaid music business internship, but I chose to follow that internship to the job that I have now— a job that still does not have benefits.

Being too paranoid to go without health insurance in a crazy city where I could be hit by a car (or a train, or a bike [as happened this weekend], or a drunk person's fist) at any second, I decided to pay for COBRA through my mom's employer. Sadly, it was $300/month for less coverage I'd had previously. It's a good thing I had it because I ended up needing it to check out some mysterious health problems I started having (long story for another day, but if you hang with me just know I eat weird food now), but every time I got a bill back it would be like "Why am I paying $300 a month for insurance and still owing this doctor $170?" It was ridiculous. Health care was eating up almost as much of my meager income as my overpriced NYC rent.

And then Obamacare happened! In 2011, I was able to go back on my mom's health insurance. I went from owing the insurance company $300 a month to something like $150 a year. That's over $3000 back in my pocket just in premiums, not to mention what I save by having better coverage. I think the total is closer to $5000.

Before Obamacare, I was literally living paycheck to paycheck. There's no way I would have been able to save up to finance this EP if that money had not come back to me. Now in this new reality where healthcare isn't my biggest expense after housing, I've saved up money for some financial security, and I put the rest back in the hands of musicians— people who definitely don't have employer-based health insurance.

This is the first time that a change in government policy has directly affected me so dramatically. And that's why I was a nervous wreck waiting for the Supreme Court to decide whether the Affordable Care Act was constitutional or not, because I simply can't afford to go back to the way things were. I don't know what I'll do when I turn 27, but hopefully by then health care won't be such a make-or-break expense for me.

I usually stay away from political debates (that may change ... been listening to too much Rachel Maddow), but this issue is obviously very close to my heart. The ACA isn't some specter of socialized medicine waiting to take away our rights. It's a real thing that benefits real people. And it's (if indirectly) bringing you a little EP called Ideals & Deals, and hopefully several more to come.

Much love to all my friends without health insurance. May this period of your life sans safety net end soon.

xo.

The Sleepwalker's Bed: Snapshot of a Sleepwalker (Outro)

2012-07-03T17:38:00.001-04:00

Life is really complicated when you're 18.

That's what I've learned from this blog series. A History of Sleepwalking is a snapshot of an emotionally dense and complicated teenager, a person who seems almost a stranger to me now. I don't know about you, but I find that as I get older, the world appears more and more multi-faceted, nuanced, and layered, while my little life grows smaller and simpler.

It's comforting to wake up to be more or less the same person every day. Even though I'm constantly changing — and nothing scares me more than the prospect of becoming stagnant — my growth is linear. Each day starts with the same struggles, right where I left them. And it's nice that I can count on that, you know?

No matter how hard things get, I can always look back on the path that I'm on and be reassured by how far I've come. If I could make it through all that, I can do anything.

That's what I'd like to tell the Sleepwalker now— that even though the world outside is terrifying and ugly, the things inside her are not.

The Sleepwalker is beautiful.

I think I can admire her for what she is and close the book on that chapter of my life.

A History of Sleepwalking by Jana Fisher

The Sleepwalker's Bed: Goodbye Regret

2012-06-21T21:41:00.002-04:00

My senior year of high school was really hard. I'm sure lots of people say that, but it seemed to high school me that I was having an especially rough time of it. Several circumstances, caused some by my actions but mostly by my inacion, resulted in losing friends and respect. At 17, I found myself alone with more regrets than a teenager should have.

I wrote this song partly as a bittersweet graduation song that I would sing at my final choir concert, but also to comfort myself. I wanted to convince myself that even though I had lost friends and would soon move away from the friends I had left, they'd still stay with me. I'd still have memories of the good times before everything went wrong.

I wasn't strong enough to make it through that year, so in this song, I created an older version of myself to be my strength, to reassure me that everything would turn out alright.

And you know what? It did.

There Is No Goodbye by Jana Fisher