All Hail the Hobbyist

 

As a rite of spring, or any other season for that matter, blossom those for whom opprobrium is manifest in declaring who are the true professionals and who are the mere hobbyists. Like a fine muscatel, each year produces another screed upon which those of us who aren't yet important enough to declare our ever move, personal or professional, super important and the necessary glue holding society together, must confront the very nature of our musical and artistic credentials.

Most important indeed.

Two things are, naturally, fundamentally intrinsic to this: money and suffering.

Most of us are convivial, if not occasionally troubled, by the first, and lacking in interest in the second. Consequently, it is framed as paying dues, doing time, and struggling for an admired goal. Nevermind the near astronomical odds of actually "making it." We can dream. And many do. Many also come to the realization that for all their hard work and perseverance, they will never achieve their dreams of being big in the business, at least not as the main act.

Many do stay in the business, but as something else-mainly to help those who still harbor the dream of big things to come. And someone has to fill those occupations that aren't as glamorous, but certainly vital to the machine, such as record execs, PR shills, and the A&R people, assuming they even exist anymore.

As you may note from the tone of this, the idea that only those who spend their lives living hand to mouth, filling odd jobs, and hoping that a health crisis doesn't bankrupt them or worse, are the true professionals, and all the rest of us hobbyists, is the usual tinfoil hat that keeps artists poor and working for "exposure" rather than a decent wage.

That doesn't mean not going to open mics or booking gigs, however much or little you make. The machine does require a dogged perseverance if you want a certain kind or level of fame, just don't be surprised if even after all that, you're still making most of your income from waiting tables, or God forbid, working a mainstream job.

Most art isn't going to pay the bills. Sadly, it probably never will.

And if you feel the need to say that because I choose to go a different route (and I have been paid for my work) I'm just a hobbyist, knock yourself out. I'll still come hear you play and wish you well, having been there.

©2021 David William Pearce

The Terribly Exciting World of DIY Recording

 

I often feel the need to pontificate on the "joys" of Do It Yourself (DIY) recording. I don't know why, other than some perverse need to bore people-though, I must say, there are those who, remarkably, find this all somewhat helpful. That, and it justifies the many hours I put into making music in the first place.

The beauty of DIY is total control. No pesky producer or engineer poo-pooing your cogent insights or desires to make what you're certain will be a timeless addition to the world's greatest music.

And in this period of quazi-quarrantine, the opportunities to hole away in one's hovel (see above photo) are plentiful. Being mindful of this, I have been dutifully working through my late-life magnum opus-what used to be the double album when records were the dominant means of entertaining the music listening masses. 16 songs and 2 chants, one to open the record and one to close it.

Why would I choose to do this? Don't ask.

I also felt the need to challenge myself as far as how much I could get away with, whether I had the talent to pull it off or not. That invariably brings up what to play on what instrument in what time and what key on what song. The benefit and curse of having more than one guitar, or instrument, is working through this one and that one, hoping the answer would present itself.

Fortunately, it often did.

Having a home studio also allows those of us who work slowly to do so without going deeply in debt. And with the advent of digital recording, you can record and re-record to your heart's content, or until you run out of space on your hard-drive (and no pesky generational degradations that you use to get with tape, not to mention the warehouse you'd need to store all those reels of tape). This is good and bad. Good that you can work through idea after idea, and bad, when after idea after idea, you're still not happy or even close to finishing. I call this the Peter Gabriel dilemma, as he was known to tinker and tinker and redo to the point of his producer's distraction.

Sometimes this leads to making tough decisions and completing projects or lots of started but never finished ideas. Personally, I have an abhorrence to not getting all my brilliant ideas out there where they can be ignored en masse. 

Which allows me to solder on.

©2021 David William Pearce