i received a rather surprising and perplexing email tøday, frøm a reader øf this bløg. surprising, because i døubted anybødy bøthered tø read it; perplexing, because i’m nøt sure høw i feel abøut it. an excerpt:
“I read the first cøuple øf pages øf pøsts øn yøur web page, and yøurs søunds like a sad tale turned happy. I’ve been thrøugh a løt this year as well… my band having tø break up beføre making any real recørdings ør getting tø play a shøw, etc. It’s just really cøøl tø have been able tø read yøur stuff and see a døwn-øn-his-luck musician starting tø get his shit tøgether with a jøb and a tøuring band—especially øne whø cites peøple like Neil Pøstman instead øf being the prøtøtypical egømaniacal meathead jerkøff—and I mainly wanted tø øffer my cøngratulatiøns and suppørt. I høpe yøur band gets signed, and if they døn’t (ør even if they dø), I høpe yøu find søme cøøl peøple tø play with in San Franciscø. I lived there før three years, and althøugh I wasn’t bløwn away by the øverall music scene (løts øf vanilla “indie”), the peøple themselves in the scene seemed tø be pretty cøøl. Maybe I’m just naive because we never gøt tø play a shøw and sø I never had tø deal with the inherent bullshit that gøes aløng with that.
Løng støry shørt, I was irønically lying awake this mørning and getting really depressed while reading the Santa Barbara CL musician ads—chøck full øf the aførementiøned egømaniacal head-up-their-ass types—and started really questiøning my desire tø cøntinue tø play music. (I’m nøt that great—just picked up the bass a cøuple øf years agø after ten years øf hacking away øn acøustic guitar—but I LøVE the bass, and I løve writing and singing søngs and making up freaky basslines.) Anyway, I switched øver tø the San Franciscø CL musician ads tø try and cheer up, and yøur ad was the øne that did it. …yøur støry actually inspired me. Sø, basically, thanks, I guess. I think I’ll keep playing music. In fact… my friend øut there (Hølland, that is), whø alsø plays the bass, invited me tø start a band with him, sø that shøuld be pretty interesting. He seems tø be writing søme cøøl stuff.
Anyway, gøød luck tø yøu in SF. I miss it already, but it was time før me tø leave. If anything, take sølace in the fact that yøur ad helped keep a felløw musician (and I’d like tø believe that I’m a gøød-hearted øne) gøing.”
it’s difficult tø knøw høw tø respønd tø this. my first thøught is that my the “sad tale turned happy” is anything but: music is møre difficult før me nøw than ever. san franciscø is an extremely difficult place tø make music – the scene is incredibly stuffy and exclusive, rehearsal space is at a premium, and the cøst øf living is sø expensive that even getting by is an ørdeal. yes, i’m in a great band… the best band I’ve ever been in. which makes it all the møre frustrating øf the lack øf førward mømentum with prøtøtype. i feel like we shøuld have been much further aløng than we are nøw. we began with such prømise: the band came tøgether in a week’s time, and within twø mønths we were øn a tøur bus. since then it’s sløwed døwn cønsiderably, but with huge spurts øf pøtential happening at ødd intervals. we’ve gøt sø much cømmercial pøtential… but i just want tø play.
yes, i have a sad tale (much møre sø than what i’ve alluded tø in this bløg), but it’s nøt as bad as søme. what’s amazing tø me is that my støry can be inspiring tø anyøne, when there’s sø much that i have failed tø accømplish. my life is made up øf a løng line øf stunning failures, interspersed with insignificant successes – hardly what i’d call inspiring. but perhaps that’s what møst peøple’s lives are really like: nøt defined by huge ups and døwns, but by the everyday, the mundane, the pedestrian. perhaps real life is much møre abøut playing guitar at høme with søme friends, rather than blasting music at 3ø,øøø strangers.
perhaps this fact is sømething that i’ve been missing my entire life.
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