The Roots, Passion, Technology and the Future of Independent Music

The Roots

The best place to start is at the beginning, right? Born to two loving parents, my Dad a musician who put himself through college as a guitarist and with a music loving Mother raised in Hawaii, I got really lucky. One of my favorite pictures is of a little me, about two years old, sitting on my bed with a Ukulele in my hands. The other is me on the couch with my Ukulele sitting next to my Dad and his Gibson Super V jazz guitar.

30 plus years later, they give me comfort that the passion for music is no accident, not an avenue of rebellion, but more like fulfilling a type of destiny.

Later came the piano lessons, the formal training and attempt to channel my seemingly endless energy into something constructive. I still have the learning books of sheet music which I worked through, and every time I see them, it’s a reminder of how stubborn I was, how I didn’t like having to practice the notes on the page because they got in the way of fun. Sure, I learned some things, got up on stage in front of people, and showed some promise — yet eventually my parents couldn’t fight my resistance any more. There was no reason to keep spending hard earned money on art as a form of punishment. Playing music went dormant for about 10 years.

Hitting 14 seemed to awaken something inside. As an only child with Dad’s small collection of guitars, a few effects pedals and a vintage Fender Twin Reverb amp, I started to plug things in and make noise. While most boys my age were getting into sports, my physical limitations meant that I had to watch others bond over things that I couldn’t participate in. Picking up a guitar though, was something that I could do on my own, in my room, without feeling judgment from the outside world. Then Dad noticed.

“So, do you actually want to learn how to play, or do you just want to bang on my stuff and break it?” might sound like a terribly demeaning question, but my Dad knew me well. When I said “Yes, I want to learn how to play” he recognized that he couldn’t be my teacher, because of his job that took him out of town for days at a time, and enabled our family to have a good lifestyle. Maybe a small part of it was knowing I was a challenging student — capable of learning at a high capacity (like my loving of dinosaurs), but with a head-strong stubbornness of self-direction. He paid for lessons at Player’s Music, and Mom was always there to take me when he wasn’t around.

It took about 9 months before I wanted to quit taking lessons, fed up with the pacing and authoritative format. We had a good Gateway computer at home and an internet connection, and once I learned how Guitar Tablature worked, I was off exploring and learning on my own. While we’d always had a computer in the home because it helped Dad do his job and Mom could make her own archives of recipes and do creative things like family newsletter updates to mail out, technology was a path to knowledge and progress. For years and years I’d spent time in the local library, reading about cars, guns, war, UFOs and whatever I felt was worth the time, but the early internet was a conduit to constructive independent study.

The Passion

It was about the time we got a cable modem and I was obsessed with playing Half-Life online multiplayer that I found Acid Music Studio on the discount software rack at the Virgin Megastore. Once I got the loop-based software up and running, I realized that the soundcard had a mic-in stereo mini jack. I took Dad’s Fender Stratocaster Elite and a couple pedals, and plugged it in. This coincided with making music friends through church and joining my first band, so by then, guitar already had me to the core. If I wasn’t playing along with Yngwie Malmsteen in my bedroom to get faster, or playing Half-Life with people all across the Northern Hemisphere, I was sitting at the computer, structuring songs and finding ways to record music.

“If I buy this for you, will you promise that your grades won’t go down?” was what my Dad said when we were at The Greater Southwest Guitar Show in 1998. The guitar? A Gold-top Les Paul made by The Heritage in Kalamazoo Michigan, a company that only existed because Gibson moved their production away to Tennessee. Enough of the old master luthiers refused to leave that they were able to start a company doing the things the way they wanted to, and without compromise. I promised him that my grades wouldn’t suffer, and they didn’t. To this day, my Heritage Les Paul is my #1, my most prized possession, the one thing I can touch and feel whole.

It’s easy to gloss over the years after that, because my parents were insistent that I studied hard, go to a good University, and have “marketable skills” for the future. They were adamant about me not trying to make music my career path, because Dad felt the music industry was rotten, full of snakes, the kind of dream that will lead people down a road for which there is no U-Turn and starting over — no, if music is important, do it for yourself. Earn a living, from that foundation, you can build something to be proud of doing.

The Technology

As somebody good with computers, like playing the guitar well, people tended to be in awe. “Oh, wow, you should be in Computer Science!” was frequently tossed about, and I did my best to use my talents there. Whether an IT contractor or HTML programmer, I knew my way around making machines do what I desired. Yet as a course of study in University, all the fun was sapped out, and I couldn’t see myself finishing. Leaving Computer Science, just before the tech bubble of the early 2000s burst, was a hard decision but one I knew the right one. That didn’t mean giving up on what was learned, of what computers could do, but it meant, yet again, making it a personal passion rather than one upon which to hitch my future.

From Acid Music Studio to Cool Edit Pro 2.0 and eventually to Ableton Live, I kept on grinding. By the time I was self-sustaining in a crappy apartment, I had four guitars, a computer, a MIDI keyboard, two amps, a couple soundcards, and would come home from work and make music. My first “official” album was titled “The Graveyard Shift” because everything I did was on the back-side of the clock. I considered music a job worth doing well, for myself, for my pride and passion, and pursuing fame by way of the music industry was never an option. After enough personal investment, I decided never to sign anything if I could help it.

The Future of Independent Music

Now, it’s nearly impossible to separate my love of music and guitar from using technology as a conduit. I love Ableton Live and Reaper, have too many soundcards and VSTs and royalty-free loops, tools like Figure on my iPad, and so many internet outlets for my 6StringMercenary concept that it’s almost a laundry list. SoundCloud. DistroKid for digital stores like iTunes. Spotify. Tidal. YouTube. Twitter. Periscope. ReverbNation. CraigsList for local connections. DropBox. Email for outreach.

Can you whistle the old-school modem handshake? The “Tweeee-twooooooo-KRRSSHHHH” connection with the world out there? I’m so amazed by the tools at my disposal, yet know they’re all worthless without something worth sharing. Now, the opportunity to share with the world on my own terms is more achievable than ever. It’s still an “echo chamber” that no matter how loud the shouting might be, there’s no guarantee that anybody is there to listen. That’s totally okay! Would I be willing to sell my car just to have a chance to record in a formal studio and quit my job to go on a regional tour? Nah, I’ve got a good life, a life that I’ve earned on my own that doesn’t change if I fail to sell a certain number of units. In the grand scheme of things, I’ve already recouped everything I’ve spent…and more…

So what’s my take on “the future” of being an independent musician? It all starts and ends with the artist — what do we want out of our effort? If fame and fortune are the goals, then there’s no point in being an independent. Get noticed, get signed by a major label, and hang on for the up and down ride that can make or break you. If the goal is to have a chance to distribute music beyond burning CDs, playing local gigs and wondering if anybody even cares, then now is the best time to be alive as a musician. Right now, and for the foreseeable future, investing in the self is a method of sacrifice and patience.

As the great Willie Nelson said, “Act like you’re famous, so if you finally make it, you won’t fuck it up.” Treat yourself with respect, protect your art, and be skeptical of those who promise more than they can deliver. When your head hits the pillow, be proud of what you’ve done and why you did it. If you don’t second guess your decisions, you’re on the right path.

Love music, have self-respect, and show it to the world loud ‘n proud!