First off, my CV, for those just joining us:

• Member of Reliquary and Paris Burning. Reliquary has played spaces ranging from tiny galleries to rock clubs to a dirt lot to the Parkbühne stage at Wave Gotik Treffen. Paris Burning played all of the above, except for the dirt lot and WGT.
• Promoter, bringing goth/industrial/darkwave bands to Phoenix. Here’s a partial list:
  The Azoic; Belle Morte (x2); black tape for a blue girl; The Crüxshadows (x2); Faith & Disease (x2); Faith and the Muse (x3); Gitane Demone; Johnny Indovina; The Last Dance (x..4? 5?); Razor Skyline; Thou Shalt Not; Voltaire; Written in Ashes

So I’m providing this primer from the perspective of someone who’s both brought to town and played with huge variety of bands, in a huge variety of spaces, under a huge variety of circumstances. I know wherefore I speak, in other words; and I’ve seen everything I mention below, both good and bad.

If you’re pressed for time, skip down for the short version.

1. Be confident.
   You’re currently a small fish in a really big pond, and a measure of confidence will help you weather the slings and arrows of a cutthroat field.
2. Be humble.
   You’re currently a small fish in a really big pond, and a smaller head will be a much better asset than a huge ego. To quote Duff Goldman, “[L]ose the ego. It will blind you to all your faults, and they will persist.”
3. Be flexible.
   You’re not always going to headline, or get a soundcheck, or get 10 dedicated channels on the board, or get to play your full set. Being well-prepared for any eventuality, both mentally and in terms of gear, will serve you well. Pro tips: if you don’t use amps, bring a few DI boxes. Know in advance which songs you’d cut — or add, if necessary.

   Corollary to Point 3: If you’re told your set is 45 minutes long, plan for a 40-minute set and when the soundguy says you’ve got time for one more, play your 2 1/2-minute pop-punk ditty, not your 10-minute jazz exploration. Also, pay attention to things like stage lights going on and off, or work/house lights coming on. Those mean you’re done.

4. Have a day job.
   You’re not always going to get paid. You might not normally get paid. At this point, getting your music heard and your stage show seen, and maybe selling a couple tshirts and CDs at the show, is going to be your reward. ^[1]
5. Be on time. Even better, be early.
   If load-in and soundcheck starts at 5, arrive at 4:45. You may get lucky and get load in and soundcheck out of the way early and have extra time to relax. Even if there’s no soundcheck, you’re establishing a reputation for reliability. This is important. (You may also have to sit around for three hours while everyone else fiddles about, but see points 3 and 9 for how to handle that situation.)
6. Never, ever criticize the soundguy.
   He knows where the Suck Button is, and he’s not afraid to use it. I’ve watched sound guys introduce feedback loops, pitch-shift the vocals and turn off channels entirely on bands that acted like assholes. Don’t be that guy. Really don’t be that guy during your set. Ask nicely, ok?
7. Never, ever criticize the other bands.
   You may hate their music, you may hate them as people, but if you say something, someone will hear you. That really big pond is actually kinda small — even smaller in the goth/industrial/darkwave scene, and it will get back to the band, and while you may not hear the doors slamming shut all around you, they are. Bands are frequently asked to suggest other bands for the bill, and guess what? They’re not going to suggest you any more. ^[2]
8. Communicate well.
   Respond quickly — and completely — to requests, within 24 hours if possible. If you can’t respond within 24 hours, explain, up front, why you can’t: “Our trombonist may have to go in for surgery that day; can we get back to you by next Wednesday?” (If the answer is no, that they need to know by tomorrow, be gracious about it.) Answer all questions. Ask the questions that are important to you.
9. Be relaxed and groovy.
   The band that doesn’t make demands ^[3] or get shouty or pissy or all ego-tastic? That band is remembered. That band is noticed by the internationally-touring headliner, and is thought of for future opportunities. How would you like your next album recorded and mixed in the private studio of your idol? Totally not going to happen if you’re an ass.

   Corollary to Point 9: If you initiate, or are the cause of, more emails, phone calls or texts than the headliner, you are (a) not relaxed and groovy, and (b) being way too high maintenance. Not everything can be spelled out in detail or in advance; go with the flow, young padawan.

The cliff-notes version of everything except Point 4: “Don’t be a dick”.

Now get out there and rock the place. You’re fabulous, y’know? And you look good in the black.

[1] Speaking as a promoter, we often have to pay not only for the band’s guarantee, but the venue, the soundguy, the band’s food and drink, supplies, security/door personnel, rental equipment, etc. If we make money, we always split the proceeds with the bands. And mostly we don’t make money ourselves; we always see to it that the other bands get paid before we do — even if we’re one of the bands on the bill. We may be unique in this matter, but there you go. Also, it’s none of your business what the promoter’s paying the headliner. If the promoter is any good, they won’t be screwing you, because they’re not dicks. How do you know if they’re dicks? Check how many repeat customers they have.

[2] That said, if you have a genuine issue with another band, or a venue, or a promoter, or a soundguy, speak up. Present your concerns in a timely, calm, professional manner. Offer suggestions, and work to resolve the conflict. You know: don’t be a dick =)

Corollary to footnote 2: It’s equally important to recognize when shit’s just going wrong, and learn to deal. Because at least once, you will have to play with no monitors, and no amount of yelling is going to get a new speaker on that stage in time for your set. And you’ll look like a dick.

[3] You’re really in no position to make demands — and even if you are, no one likes demands. Asking nicely works much better.

Today has been a symphony of computer problems, freezing office, lunch issues and job wonkiness, and in the midst of it all, my sippy cup sprung a leak and nearly pushed me over the edge. I held it together through an act of will. Ok, I got distracted by another crisis. But I didn’t have a sippy-cup spaz & I’m pretty sure that’s all that counts.

My new and interesting set of responsibilities make the day fly by like nobody’s business, but it’s easy to let the new crises pile up until I’m buried. I actually made someone wait for something today, while I finished up another thing, which I don’t think I’ve ever done. It felt strange.

I’m not sure if I was in a rut before this week or not, but if I was, I’m well out of it now. Nonstop craziness will do that for you.

It was not a resounding success.

Those chopsticks — the reason I got this particular box (“OOH! Wee chopsticks, how CUTE!”) — are too short and too smooth. I dropped more rice in my lap than I ate, until I gave in & got a spoon from the lunch room.

The rice got hard. I packed it last night, so I knew that could happen, but I wasn’t prepared for how unpleasant it was. Clearly I need to do that wrapping-in-cling-film thing.

The snow peas needed badly to be blanched. Raw snow peas are not as awesome as you’d think. The carrots were ok. It’s hard to fuck up carrots. The string cheese was unpleasant at room temperature.

The best thing was the sauce — eel sauce in a tiny bottle that had held a sample of garlic olive oil. It’s actually a wee bit too big for the top layer, but I … didn’t think of putting it in the bottom until just now. Shut up.

The salmon patties were just ok. They dried out badly, too; clearly I need to pay more attention to the moisture levels in things, although you can go too far in the opposite direction: too much moisture will make a bento go off while it sits at room temperature.

So this is something I need to work on, since, while our chefs do bring lunch to the datacenter, it’s prepacked box lunches of whatever meat-stuff is on the menu, and I mainly ate salad at Headquarters.

On the plus side, there are a ton of good bento resources out there. I just need to … get better at it =)

When we left, I ended up in front of our little train of people, and upon opening the door, I was hit full on by a wall of water driven by a 90-mile-an-hour wind, and … I kind of lost my head. I screeched in panic, and then pelted at a full run for the car, followed by everyone else. There may have been laughing and screaming.

Once safely in the truck, I couldn’t stop laughing, because it was so absurd, but my sweetie, also laughing, asked why I hadn’t just stepped back into the restaurant to exchange hugs and say our goodbyes and maybe send someone out to the car to get an umbrella. And, well. I don’t know. I have certainly been known to panic, or make illogical decisions, or pick the wrong thing, or get the math wrong, but here’s the important bit:

No one ever stops me.

No one ever says “Wait! Let’s do it this way.” Because, presented with a sane choice, I will nearly always go “Oh. Right. That makes much more sense.” I totally know how to say “I stand corrected,” and have done when the occasion presents itself.

So why don’t people do that more often? Am I really so formidable? So fragile? So commanding? So fast? (OK, I was pretty fast last Sunday in the rainstorm, but really, it was a wall of water and a 90-mile-an-hour wind, and I defy you to simply stroll, umbrella-less, through an unexpected monsoon.)

In this case it end without tragedy: we’re all pretty waterproof, we exchanged text-hugs later and no one died, but seriously, someone say something in future. I promise I won’t yell or cry or get all offended. I promise!

Faith and the Muse
with special guests Reliquary and Bella Lune
plus DJ Scary Lady Sarah
Thursday, May 13
@ Mardi Gras in Scottsdale
8040 E McDowell Rd., Scottsdale, AZ 85257 [map]
8pm : doors
9ish: first band on
$15 / 21+

We’ll have some lovely flyers soon; let us know if you can give us a hand distributing them.

Also, we’ve got a lovely video trailer. Pass it around!

Hope to see you there!

On Thursday, we got a nastygram from our HOA, telling us, basically, “Paint your house or we’ll cut you”. It wasn’t entirely unexpected, since the last monsoon powerwashed a couple chunks of stucco off the front of the house, but I’d not budgeted for probably-two-or-three-grand-worth of paint job, and it’s going to hurt.

(I’m in favor of our HOA in general; our dues are pretty low, our common areas are nicely kept, and our neighborhood is generally pretty cool^[1]. But still … bleh.)

Then we got our taxes done on Friday, and holy crap, did we not need that just now. How can we claim married and zero exemptions, and still be on the hook? We didn’t have a lot of Reliquary expenses, but since we also didn’t make any profit, it’s only a matter of time before the IRS gets all “this is a hobby!” on our asses.

Then we tried to have Reliquary practice, but Cubase was all “Yeah, I have no idea what you’re talking about” every time we tried to get it to, y’know, play the music. (We’d gotten a new studio computer a few months ago to replace the dying, 7-year-old one we’d been using, and had just gotten it up and running. Except that the 6-year-old copy of Cubase wasn’t playing nice with the new OS.) So we’ll have to upgrade. And there go several hundred more dollars.

(I mean, I know we’ll be able to claim the expense next year on our taxes, but see above re: hobby. Unless Reliquary starts making money [on which we will have to pay taxes, argh vicious circle argh], it’s going to look more and more like a hobby to the IRS and it could get ugly. We could just eat the cost, but if Reliquary does make any money, we’ll have to claim it, so it makes sense to claim expenses as well. Gah, this sucks.)

And in the face of Loki’s demotion and ridiculous pay cut, it’s all just too hard. We’ve slashed our budget and I though we were economizing fairly well, but we’ve not been able to build our emergency fund back up, and I’m just terrified of the future. My spreadsheet is predicting, if not doom, then certainly stress and worry.

We’re going to have to make some unpleasant choices fairly soon. I’m just hoping nothing else falls out of the sky to smash our fragile little financial ecosystem.

[1] Notwithstanding the delinquent fuck who smashed into Loki’s truck last week & stole my black bass, the one he’s been playing with The Low Men. Yeah, there went another $500.

And yet, everything hurts, I can barely move and I’ve got a headache that’s off the charts.

It wasn’t so much the standing around for hours, or the trying-to-hold-very-very-still while videoing without a tripod, or the high-stepping through the debris, or the long (high-stepping) walks required to get to anywhere, or the unaccustomed weight of a hard hat on my head, but all of that, combined, two days in a row. Oh, and I wasn’t exactly fit to begin with, bleh.

On the plus side, it was interesting to watch, if somewhat dangerous at times. But I didn’t die, so well done me!

The plan now is plenty of stretching and hot soaks, and hopefully I will be human again soon.

We helped with the easiest move ever on Saturday, shuttling KT’s stuff to her new townhouse, then took the dogs to the park. It was Freya’s first time, and it was comical how quickly she realized that flipping her Fierce switch in the company of strange dogs might not be the best plan.

She still has way too much energy, though — I woke up Sunday (too early, far too early) to a swathe of destruction that is becoming only too familiar. So far she’s eaten or destroyed: a bible, a PS3 controller, a tube of superglue, some slippers, a 100-year-old first edition, a book of dirty jokes, and an 80-year-old Don Juan. You fuck with my Byron at your peril, Little Miss.

Oh, and she peed on the library rug.

Cue several hours of cleaning and crankiness, that was only alleviated by the arrival of my birthday masseuse. Oh, gods, y’all. That massage was so very, very good. Loki does a mean shoulder pummel, but having someone work all the bad muscles at once was heavenly. I’m going to do a few weekly sessions at her health-institute-place, because I am just that broken.

I took my newly-relaxed self to the Low Men show, turning up at 5 with Loki, because that’s when all the bands were told to turn up. Why? We don’t know. It certainly wasn’t to load in & soundcheck, because there wasn’t enough room for one band’s equipment, much less that of all 9 bands on the bill.

Plus there was some confusion as to the Low Men’s set time. Their set kept getting moved around until settling at 10pm, and wonder of wonders, it actually happened on time — a little early, in fact, a feat I consider a minor miracle. Of course, this meant we were hanging out at the Rhythm Room for five hours, sitting through several bands I’d rather have missed. Dreadful, dreadful stuff.

My camera batteries having died, I actually watched the entire Low Men set, and I’m glad I did. They all left a pint of blood on that stage, I tell you what: it was one of their best shows ever, tight and fast and good, and you’re now bummed you missed it.

They’re playing this Friday at Crabby Don’s in Gilbert, and you should totally come see them. It’s going to be good. No clue when their set time is, but somewhere in the vicinity of 11, I should think.

And now to plow through the rest of the week. Yay!

1. If you had a jar of peanut butter, what would you do with it?
   Put it in kongs for the dogs.
2. If you were to be cremated, where would you want your ashes to go and why?
   Well, if no one wanted to life-gem me, probably near the Buddha on Avery Island, because that’s where he first told me he loved me.
3. If you could invent a flavor of jelly beans, what would it be?
   Really? Are there flavors Jelly Belly hasn’t done yet? Then in that case, Sesame Tofu from Red Dragon.
4. What would your perfect paradise be like?
   I used to think the Hebrides, but maybe somewhere more like mainland Scotland, on account of the more trees. Alternately, a place that doesn’t get much above 75 or 80°r;F in the summer, or get much snow in the winter, and plenty of trees. Also, not a lot of people, but close to a good city, and high speed internet. Do you know where that might be? Let me know.
5. If you could fly, where would you go?
   Like, fly without a plane, all Superman-stylee? I would go everywhere.

There was much hilarity, too: Tom brought a Hulk pinata he’d got for his own birthday, and after Fenris was done barking at the strange guy hanging from the patio roof, we all took turns punching and whacking it until it finally broke apart. Good times!

Yesterday I woke up with a skull-splitting headache and upset tummy, and spent the morning ignoring the dishes in the sink and watching Top Gear reruns until Loki got out bed, when we switched to Band of Brothers. Also, I can highly recommend the curative powers of Mafia Mike’s toasted veggie sub.

And then this morning, my mom called to say her brother had died from the inoperable brain and esophageal tumors they’d found only a couple months ago. So obviously we’d known this was coming, but that knowledge didn’t make the news any easier to take. You always hope for a miracle, y’know?

So I’m throwing myself into work, hoping the day flies by so I can go home and hug my sweetie and the dogs and the kitties, and make them all promise never to die on me, and I’ll feel better for a little while, even though I’ll know they’re lying.