I’m thinking about it — making my first album that is. Am I nuts?
I’m a woman of a certain age. What label will sign me? Then again what label signed me when I was 22? They didn't. But that doesn’t even matter any more does it?
Who needs a label?
“Everyone is doing it for themselves anyway. I’ve always been late to the party. I’m the girl in the skinny jeans while everyone else is in boyfriend jeans. And by the time I get the memo about the boyfriend jeans, everyone’s in flairs. Eventually I get the hang of it.”
After I perform Confessions of a Serial Songwriter Live! people are always asking to buy a CD. CD? I sell books at my gigs. How much merch can a girl ask people to buy? (Probably a lot more than I presume.)
Besides, how do you even play a CD? There are no more slots to put them in! Isn’t the download card the thing now? See? I’m going to need help. Perhaps my 2 young and able spirit guides, Dia and Sonja will hold my Grown-Up hands and talk to me about distributers, upload forms and label copy. I’m not good at filling things out.
Anyhoo, where was I? Oh yeah. One of the silver livings of the more conventional business model falling away is that an independent artist can own and control her own product. No more A&R demanding she write a love song for a first single. :(
Years ago, I fantasized about making a record. Like Carly or Carole or Karla before me. But I had to be realistic. I loved coming home to my cat and my bed and going out with my pals, so I wasn’t destined for the arena. Plus, I’m just not that good of a singer or player and I can hardly walk in heels. Much less strut. But I have a voice. (Come to think of it Carly and Carole and Karla didn’t strut much either.)
And I don’t need to go Platinum.
Tour support? Give me a spotlight, a mic, a DI and a bottle of water. I’m good to go. Hey, Maybe I’ll sell some T-shirts too!
Once upon a time I wanted to write a book. I didn't know who would publish it or who would even read it. But I had this itch. And you helped me scratch it. Right here on Facebook! My one-woman-live-show seems to be taking on a life of its own. I’m trying to get Hulu or Netflix to bite. Honestly, I don’t know what the f*ck I’m doing lately, I’m just stumbling along and in some ways I’m happier than I’ve been in a long long time. It’s a renaissance of sorts.
See the thing is, that’s how I started out: stumbling along in uncharted territories. Tripping and laughing. Having the time of my life being clueless. I figured it out as I forged ahead. Life is an endless work in progress. And when you follow roads that call your name good sh*t happens.
I tell that to my daughter all the time. (Not in those exact words.) And I tell aspiring songwriters the same thing. Shouldn’t I take my own advice? Even at this late date?
For so many years I made a living as a professional songwriter who only wrote songs for others to sing. That’s been great. But now I’m yearning to re-connect in a more personal way with my love of that 3 minute enigma that got me hooked in the first place. It had nothing to do with getting signed or making money but with the euphoria I felt expressing myself on my own terms.
I might not be the best, but nobody does me as good as I do.
It must sound like I’m trying to convince myself. Isn’t there too much on my plate already? I dunno. I’m thinking about it making my first album. Am I nuts?