Posts Tagged &#8216;Building a following&#8217;

Jim, thanks so much for taking the time to speak with me. I was hoping you could share some wisdom about what it’s like to be a band that plays that regularly and tell me how this all started for you guys?

Spaz:

The first year was kind of getting our feet wet, but we weren’t planning on doing it very seriously or for any length of time. And then when things started building up, we thought, “Let’s keep trying to do this until it runs its course.” The longer we did it, the more we learned about business, the more we came to appreciate the lifestyle it afforded. By that I mean, not so much money, but having days and having the day to spend with our kids and stuff like that. Before we knew it, it’s 25 years later.

Do you have originals? Was this ever something to support your original music, or was it just that you guys got together and played covers for kicks?

Spaz:

We actually started as an original band doing originals. And then we started The Nerds as a breakout from that to get out and play in front of more people and become more comfortable playing with each other as a unit and as a band. And pretty soon we abandoned that original project and just kept it as The Nerds. Then after doing The Nerds for a number of years, we decided to do some originals and record them. So we did a CD back in 1994 that was mostly originals but a bunch of live covers that we did. At that point we kind of tried to pursue the whole A&R route, but before long we decided maybe this wasn’t what we were cut out for and maybe we should just keep doing what we’re doing and have been doing successful. We kind of abandoned the originals thing and tried to create an entertainment product and keep that going for as long as we could. Never did we expect it to go on for this long, because historically no one has ever done that. There might be one of two acts still around in Jersey that have been around for that long, but at the scale and presence that we’ve been doing it at not really. We’re kind of on our own, so it’s pretty cool.

There are bands that have good runs, but 25 years is something else. Tell me what it is you think you did right that so many others have done wrong.

Spaz:

I think a lot of it was that we didn’t start when we were 20. We started when we were in our late 20s. By that time I think there was a little bit more of a reality check situation happening, and we just wanted to play together with the same exuberance that a 15-year old just wants to play, but without all the baggage and hang-ups. Starting in our late 20s was like, “I like this kind of music, you like that kind of music. Let’s respect it all and try it all and let’s just try to be really good musicians and let it not be about the party or the drinking or the girls or all the other trappings. Let’s really just try to be a really good band.” Since we kind of went into it with that attitude, we were very laid back about it. We had really good management that helped push us through. Then we started talking about formalizing the business of it. Then we started learning – especially me – about the mechanics of marketing a band. I would say probably if you had to point to the one thing, it would probably be that we quickly got really comfortable with the idea that this could also be a business and not be afraid of the business side of it. I remember when I was about 18, and I wanted to be in a band, the last thing in the world I wanted to worry about was business. It was almost like the ugly side of what you want to do. Not until later and to this day did I really embrace that and say, “This could really be a means by which we can just rock.” Once everybody felt really comfortable with the idea and started to say, “Let’s just really run this as a good of a business as you can and think more like business men and get all that done by 6:00 so we can just rock and be the band we wanted to be when we were 16 or 17.” That and really having respect for each other. I think the mistake that a lot of bands make is expecting the guitarist to be much more than a guitarist. If you really start using people and simply exploit their strengths – and I don’t mean in a bad way – but really just let that shine and expect the very best of that thing they do really well, and they do the same for you, that makes all the difference in the world.

What does the division of labor look like for you guys? I’m going to guess after 25 years that it isn’t just one guy doing everything.

Spaz:

I pretty much administrate everything, as far as the business end of things goes, and by the business end I mean the way payroll is done, health insurance, pension plan, all the classic trappings of the business. And then I work with our agency hand in hand with all the promotion and marketing that has to be done. On the job, I’m also the guy that deals with the club guys or the company that hired us to play their event as well as the radio stations and any kind of mass marketing that’s being done by radio print. I can’t tell you how many interviews I’ve done with the New York Times and other big periodicals. I’m the guy that does all that stuff, plus I’m the lead singer and bass player. Then what we have is a guitarist who is very shy and introverted but is an amazing guitarist. That’s what he does the best. He’s also somebody who’s a devil’s advocate. Whenever we’re talking about, “We’re going to do this song or play this place or we have the opportunity to do this,” he’s the guy who will always step in and look at the downside of it. That helps things out a lot to work things through the system. We have a drummer who is a precision clock. He’s the best drummer I’ve ever worked with. You can just lean on that and know night after night, he’s not going to be a little bit slower or a little bit faster.

As a bass player I know first hand how you’re only as good as your drummer…

Spaz:

Our keyboard player is all about sounds but he’s also very good at picking material. And that’s the thing, everybody in the band is very aware of the material that we do and the effect that it has and the demographic we may be playing for on that particular day. When you put us all together in the dressing room, there is a big analysis of everything that’s going on. Nobody’s pulling out graphs or sketching everything out, but we have a good sense of feel with everything. And the other thing generally with everyone in the band is that everybody really listens more than any other group of players I’ve ever played with. It almost becomes a single pulse going through the whole band. That makes things really solid and enjoyable.

How did you guys go from, “Hey, we’re going to go play a couple covers to be a better band” to playing as much as you do and being a guy that has been on the phone with the Times and being in touch with radio stations. What was it that started you out?

Spaz:

It was very grass roots. We started up in North Jersey because most of us lived up in that area at the time. We were playing a regular Wednesday at a regular joint, and we were starting to build a following because we weren’t playing what everybody else was playing at the time. It was a following that really liked the eclectic nature of what we were doing. Of course we dressed like nerds and stuff, but we didn’t play the “Urkel” nerds. We were more generic about it and just playing off the freedom that that allowed us. If you dress like a clown, you don’t have to worry so much about how seriously you come across. So with us, we were dressing like nerds, and it just allowed us to be musicians who could play whether we were playing a song by the Rolling Stones or Steely Dan. It didn’t make a difference, because it just kind of helped blur all those walls in between that stuff. We started developing this following, and before I knew it, I remember calling my manager one night and saying, “You’re not going to believe this, but we got 300 people in this little tiny club that holds 200. Things are going well.” And then we got a raise at the club and it was little things like that. Next thing you know, we made the jump to play the Jersey Shore. Our first show at the Shore was not great and nothing really great, but suddenly people started calling us a Jersey Shore band. Next thing you know, a summer later we were a Jersey Shore band and everyone was hiring us. It was just a good coordinated effort between management, booking and ourselves and everyone just looking out for each other and keeping each other in check. And then we just steamrollered it. Then we were doing colleges and playing down in Delaware. Then we were becoming a big college town kind of band. It just went and kept going and going. At that time the club and band business was a lot better. There were a lot more big venues than there are now. It has seriously tapered off. Even national acts that were doing big stadiums are now doing club tours.

I really wonder how any of the arena rock will ever sustain itself. We aren’t building artists of that caliber either.

Spaz:

It was really a grassroots kind of a thing, and we’ve built from there and it really has changed over the years. We’ve gone from being a barroom darling kind of band to being the big show band at the Shore in bigger places to now doing all these exclusive kind of parties here and there in one town or another town. We’re drawing people in their 20s, 30s and 40s and they are having the time of their life. Some of the older people are discovering that if you want to go out and have a good time, it’s not like it used to be where there is a band at every other court. We’re carving a niche market even now for ourselves after 25 years. It has always changed.

Talk to me about the strategic partners. What did you do as kids to get a good manager and a good agent?

Spaz:

It’s almost a fairytale story. He was having a barbecue at his house 25 years ago around Memorial Day. I was in another band that was rehearsing at a rehearsal studio that he owned up in Fairfield. Long story short, I was at his barbecue, and he said, “I really like the way you play. Why don’t you put a band together and call yourselves ‘The Nerds’ and play soulful music. The irony of it will be fantastic. I’ll talk to Sammy Boy and we’ll book you guys and do this, that and the other.” And I said, “Sure, okay.” It was that simple and benign an approach. I spoke to the guys I was working with at the time, and said, “Let’s go out and do this. If nothing else, it will hype up the band.

By August the 15^th of that summer we were gigging. We just threw it together in the most haphazard throw-all-your-stuff-in-the-car-and-let’s-go-to-Florida kind of way with no planning. We threw together some posters that looked like a bunch of yearbook pictures – the worst yearbook pictures you’ve ever seen. And we made up names. That all happened in about 45 minutes over the phone. Next thing you know we had two bookings a week starting on August 15^th. Within three months of doing that, that agent bailed and didn’t want to do it anymore, and a different friend of mine that was an agency picked up the ball and ran with it for about two years. And when that ran its course, Steve was just managing us at the time and putting up money for production and PA and stuff, and he decided to be an agent. He went and got his booking license, and that became S.T.A.R.S. Production the agency. From Steve came the idea, from the idea came The Nerds and from the Nerds, three years later came the agency.

So he’s the fifth nerd.

Spaz:

Exactly. That’s been the deal all along. He’s as strange a character as anybody you’d want to meet in A&R and anything like that. He’s very creative and crazy. That’s how a lot of things happen. We played Carnegie Hall in 1992, and that was like, “What do you think of this? We’ll play Carnegie Hall, and we’ll sell out.” So, next thing you know, we booked Carnegie Hall and sold it out – 2800 seats. There we were at Carnegie Hall.

Did the majors ever knock on your door and ask you to do an original record?

Spaz:

You know what? Some people did, and honestly it was a lot of smaller labels. But nothing really ever came from it. I don’t know that we were too willing to jump into that game anyway. It was kind of hard to tell at the time because everyone was getting married and having kids, and we were getting nice and settled into the stay-at-home, play a gig, drive three hours to get back home kind of thing. It would’ve been a tough sell even for our crazy manager for us to do something like that. If somebody said to me at the time, “Would you like to be the house band on this TV show?” I would’ve said, “Sure, no problem.”

It’s just amazing that you guys have made your living at this without much outside help. There is a movement now with DIY because there are now so many digital tools available but you guys have been DIY for a really long time. I don’t want to pry but is the live how and merch the bread and butter of your business?

Spaz:

Not even merchandise. That kind of dried up after a few years as soon as CD sales dried up. By the time they closed Tower Records in the Village, no one was really buying anything we were putting down. People just wanted free whatever they could get. It’s really just been the live shows, which is not just clubs, but a long time ago, someone would say, “Would you play a wedding?’ Now we do maybe 20 weddings a year.

I’m getting the idea you guys didn’t say no to much.

Spaz:

Not much. That’s the thing. We’re just open to a lot of seemingly stupid things. A couple years ago we did the Yankees Fan Fest, a big thing set up at Lincoln Center. A big Yankee fan, merchandising, opening day kind of thing. It was like, “We’ll do that.” We had made enough at a corporate gig in Mexico and said, “Why not?”

And you think this has all generated because you just found a way to always play?”

Spaz:

Yeah. We were just always there. The thing is, the longer you’re around and the branding sells itself at some point. Its’ phenomenal if you can persevere and stick around long enough, just the sheer number of people that have seen you. We’ve played corporate for just about everybody who is now gone on Wall Street. We probably got the last couple bucks out of Lehman Brothers before they went under. We played for all those guys and for companies all over the place. We’ve played everywhere from Whistler, Canada to the Bahamas and everything in between. We’d fly overnight to do a corporate thing and get back the next day to play some local bar. That’s the kind of availability we’ve always had, even though everybody is married with kids. I don’t even have to ask anymore. I just say, “Listen, next February we’re going to Cancun to a wedding for the weekend.” They trust me, and everybody figures for all the right reasons and for the right kind of money. That happens after 25 years. With us it happened after 10 years, where everybody was just comfortable enough with any decisions that were being made and would just go along with it with their hearts on their sleeve and play their asses off. That’s a lot of business as well as just a lot of musicianship and passion.

Was there a distinct strategy as to how you and the band rolled out into different markets, or was it just, “Okay, we’ll play?” Do you have any advice about burning out markets by playing them?

Spaz:

The only markets you could burn out by overplaying would be like a club scene. A long time ago we realized we shouldn’t just limit ourselves to the club scene. There are so many clubs that we started taking ourselves out of a monthly rotation and realizing that some places you can play once a month, some once every four months, some places twice a year. And you try to build on that strategy of trying to be at the right place at the right time. We won’t play Killington Ski Resort in July. We’ll play on President’s Weekend, because we know it’s going to be packed. And then the phenomenon builds on itself. Really good strategy has always been there. With strategy comes everyone’s willingness to play.

Were there mistakes along the way? You must have so much you would tell yourself of 20 years ago. What were the biggest pot holes in the road that you’d like to cal out attention to for other people?

Spaz:

Early on it was the agency situation. At one point we were just part of a roster, and once we started building up, the agent would kind of use us as a negotiating wedge if they wanted to put in one of their older acts for $5,000. They’d say, “You can have The Nerds for $500,” and we were already doing $2,000 at the door. There was a little bit of that. As far as mistakes, the mind is a forgetful thing when it comes to things like that. We have definitely made some mistakes along the way. Even little ones. There haven’t been a tremendous amount of them because we’ve always put our focus on the main thing, which is to make sure we always look good and played really well and that the billing was right. Our manager Steve has been in the business forever. He was playing since 16 with Tony Bennett, Manhattan Transfer. He’d been around the block many times before we came around, so he helped us skirt around a lot of that kind of stuff. If it looked like there was going to be a problem, he’d tell me. One thing we learned really harshly was that we were playing a place and next thing we knew was we got a call from a lawyer because somebody wanted to sue us because someone claimed we had hurt their hearing at one of our shows. I will never forget the guy’s name. What did we learn from that? Insure yourself to the teeth with liability insurance. Unfortunately things like that happen. We learned a lot of lessons along the way. You’re at your best when you’re at your most natural. When you can be Howard Stern about things, it’s almost better than being Jay Leno about them. It’s going to have a better bite, have more lasting power and matter more.

How important was an aspect of community? Did you have friends in other bands that helped you out, or do you have friends whose bands you like that you have helped out? Did that play into your story?

Spaz:

That helps. It’s funny because I brought up Jay Leno, and that’s where you learn some things from Jay Leno. You be nice to everybody, and you be supportive to everybody and try to help out people as much as possible. That’s always come back in a very positive way. There have been one or two people that we’ve given a leg up to who have come back and bitten us in the ass, but that’s going to happen. We’ve always tried to keep that sense of community. When we were coming up in the 1970s and early 80s, there was a vast community of musicians all over the place that would get together and jam. One band would show up at another band’s gig, etc. And then it became very narcissistic and people were not doing that. We came along and tried to pull that back into it. So when anybody shows up, we get them up on stage to play a song with us. We’ve had some pretty funny things like that. Not just musicians, but pro football guys from the Giants we’d drag up on stage. I took them through a whole choreographed version of “My Girl.” You want to see something funny, you see 7-foot tall guys do a dance like the Temptations. We’ve had all sorts of celebrities, sports guys, Bon Jovi’s gotten up and sang with us. It’s that kind of thing that keeps the mystique and the magic of the live performance and that whole community thing goes a long way.

How has the game changed for you guys in the Digital Age?

Spaz:

Right now it’s all about the social networking. They’ve created a division at our agency of people that are just doing that. Talk about having to learn a whole bunch of stuff in a hurry. We creatively bounce ideas back and forth about our website and what we want there. The website has been great, but everything else – the Myspace, the Facebook, the Twitter – is suddenly at the forefront of everything we do. We try to stay on top of that and keep people informed about every place we’re playing. It’s been quite a run so far.

Do you have any other parting words of advice?

Spaz:

Everybody has always said and you’ve heard it time and time again but we really love doing this. We’re so fortunate. That’s the thing. You have to love and at the very least appreciate what you’re doing. And in this economy, if you’re doing anything, that’s a good thing all by itself. We found out a long time ago that we could do what we love and make a pretty good living at it. That’s all we’ve done for the last 23 of the 25 years. This is our one and only full-time job. What’s involved in the job? Staying healthy. That’s the biggest challenge of this job through all the smoky clubs and hands you shake and diseases to get out there. Being of healthy body and mind and indulge yourself in this passion you have. To be able to walk home with a paycheck is fantastic.

Learn more about Jim and The Nerds. You won’t be sorry.

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Music and Business with Rachael Sage

Posted By Musician Coaching on January 26th, 2010

Rachael Sage is a singer, songwriter and record label owner. She has toured the U.S. and Europe and has been pursuing music professionally for more than a decade.

Tell me how you got into the music business.

RS:

I’ve been doing music as long as I could walk. I had a piano in my house, and my parents, who were both tone deaf ironically, were wonderfully encouraging despite their lack of musical interest. It was there, and I made friends with it from the time I was about two. I just started sounding everything out that I could possibly get my ears on. I started writing songs when I was about four, just playing melodies, and then words came as soon as I figured out that songwriting was essentially understanding what other people are saying and doing – and that’s often of even greater interest than your own life. That’s how I’ve approached songwriting ever since. That’s kind of how fiction writers probably approach their craft as well. Everyone sort of assumes my songs are about myself because a lot of them are first person, but as a rule, I usually start from the perspective of other people around me; then I realize how similar we all are…

As far as the label, that is a much more recent evolution. I started when I was a couple years out of college, and I had absorbed a lot of the West Coast music scene. Prior to that, I’d just been your typical “triple threat” – dancer, singer, actress – growing up. I went on auditions, I did local theater, I was a ballerina. I loved to perform, and anytime anything was suggested to me as an opportunity performance wise, I just went after it; I had that drive. Business wise, I had an epiphany when I was out there at Stanford and realized the kind of music I found myself wanting to make in my 20’s was a heck of a lot different than what I was doing in my teens, when it seemed like the doors were going to fling open if I wrote that extremely commercial Top 40 hit for myself or someone else, in terms of publishing.

You were skewing towards writing for commercial success initially?

RS:

In my teens, definitely. It was really natural to me. It wasn’t really a conscious choice. I just grew up listening to every format of radio and just being a typical kid in that sense of loving all types of music, listening to my parents’ music, listening to classical, listening to the radio; but at the end of the day, I was writing really hooky poppy tunes that put me in that world a little bit more in terms of my headspace. And then when I went to college – it’s sort of the cliché – but it was when I really figured out who I am and what my own leanings really were as far as what I wanted to say in my lyrics. I heard all kinds of great music on the West Coast like Ani DiFranco and a lot of local folk artists in the Bay Area, and it was just a revelation of what music could be for me. I guess in a nutshell I realized that it was going to be a lot more challenging to get that proverbial meeting with that big-shot manager or record label person or any of the number of people who were already in my Rolodex by the time I went off to college, being a New York ambitious singer/songwriter kid. None of that world really related anymore to what I was doing. I stated to wrack my brain on how I could get my music out there and what I could do to just create my own opportunities.

When the Digital Age dawned, you were already sort of doing the DIY thing.

RS:

My first big, bold move personally was I put together a record, but I wasn’t necessarily thinking about it that way yet. It was my first “no apologies” demo. I’d been working on that for years. I’d made demos since I was twelve, but this was one where I thought, “Okay, I’ve got ten or eleven songs here that not only am I excited to drop off at the Bitter End to get my first gig there, but I also would send this to my own idols. This is something that is me and is reflective of me.” That took several years, but I’d say that was probably 1996, and that eventually became my first record, Morbid Romantic. My acting training came in handy immediately as soon as I started re-approaching how to market myself in a way that didn’t necessarily fall in line with any of my previous industry sensibility. I started realizing that no one knew I didn’t have two interns and a manager and a lawyer; I could just present myself to the wider world as though all of that were in place and I had representation of some kind. I’d long known that was the key to getting anyone on the other side of the fence to give you any kind of advice. People have always been reluctant to talk to the artist. It’s different now, but back then that was very much the case.

The industry side of things has been considerably humbled, and rightfully so. You were a New Yorker, you went out to the Bay Area, you moved back to New York after college. Tell me about the process of saying, “I’m going to do this full time.” How did you go about the process of making music your living?

RS:

I think as with almost anything in life it was a good deal about doing everything I possibly could to put myself out there to the point of obsession on a daily basis, ritualistically, and then also when certain doors opened and there was a bit of luck involved, I just made sure I was ready. A good example of that was I had already been living in New York a couple years and putting myself out there. I studied theater at the Public Theater and then randomly one of my packages that I sent out to one of my favorite artists Ani DiFranco elicited a very positive response. By that point I’d already played a bunch of gigs in New York, but I hadn’t really toured. I’d played a bunch of universities, but I didn’t really know what touring was all about. But I had already been making my living professionally as a musician of sorts. I was writing jingles and doing jingle singing and voiceover work for a number of different music houses all over the city.

How did you network your way into jingles?

RS:

I think today it would be a lot harder, though it’s not impossible.

It wasn’t cool in the 90’s to do jingles. You got snarky comments back then if you were doing Coke commercials.

RS:

It ties into the idea of putting yourself out there and not being precious about it. The fact that twice a month I was playing shows at the Bitter End and twice a month I was at the Sidewalk Café doing open mics and sending out packages as though they were written by my manager/agent, virtually every day of the week made that possible.

What was your manager’s name?

RS:

My (fake) “manager”’s name was Jen Cohen, and she was a friend of mine that I met through a charity that I was involved with called the Kristin Ann Carr Fund…basically I got permission from a good friend to stick her name all over my stuff to pretend to represent myself. Eventually she actually decided to go into music.

My fictional manager was Jerry. He was on my answering machine.

RS:

You know all about that then. You just adjust your voice slightly, put on glasses when you bring your own CD’s to consignment down at Tower Records. I think the first opportunity I got doing jingles, I was already kind of out and about on the singer/songwriter scene and I got a phone call from a producer to whom I’d given my tape hoping and praying he’d want to work with me in an artistic way as a singer/songwriter. Because everyone is paying their rent somehow in New York City, I was completely naïve to the fact that this very well known, platinum level producer did jingles to supplement his own living. That was my first opening – this fellow Frank Aversa who produced the Spin Doctors and a number of other bands. He called me up and said, “Hey, this is Frank Aversa, and I’m wondering if you’re available to come in tomorrow to sing on a jingle and maybe even write one because I’m busy and I like your melodies. Give me a call. Thanks.” And I said, “What is that?” I had no idea what he meant or what that would entail, and it was a trip.

I guess I’d set the stage years prior in my teens, because I’d met the son of a very successful jingle writer in a taxi cab coming back from ballet. This young kid invited me over to dinner, just a totally innocent thing. We hit it off in a taxi, and he invited me over to write a jingle. So when I was sixteen I had written a jingle for Michelob with this kid who lived near me. I made friends with this guy and we sort of practiced and would compare and program drum machines, and he had a home studio…but I’d long forgotten about that.

Things can come full circle when you least expect it. I think one thing that worked in my favor is that I tried to not have a lot of rules about how I wanted my career in music to unfold, but I always kept my eye on my ultimate goal, which was to support myself doing music – and eventually that shifted into wanting to be a full-time touring artist; but I didn’t even really know that until I went out on the road with Ani DiFranco.

I’m guessing Ani was a big inspiration for you picking up the DIY thing, as she’s one of the pioneers of the whole “I don’t need a label” thing. But catch me up to date. What do you make your living doing? Are you building new markets, releasing new albums, sync licenses, jingles? How to you stay afloat?

RS:

All of the above. I’ve run a record label for over ten years – MPress Records. It’s evolved slowly from sort of a Wizard of Oz behind the curtain kind of representation for my own work to a fully-functioning, small staff, in an office in New York and we also have other artists and put out compilations. At this point we have a 15-album catalogue, and it’s licensed in the U.S. and all over the world – in the UK and Europe, and we’re working out new locations as well. There are the traditional record sales, which have greatly shifted towards digital, but the majority of our sales still are physical actually. That’s changing incredibly rapidly as everybody knows.

Personally, as an artist I’m basically doing what I’d be doing anyway if I hadn’t ever incorporated or started a label, or decided to go that route business wise – my own ‘dance card’ is always very full. For at least six or seven years, I’ve played as many as 200 shows per year consistently, whether or not I had a new album out in a given year. That model really directly takes inspiration from Ani DiFranco.

Music Consultant How did you get people to take you seriously?

RS:

I can tell you exactly how I started doing that. I opened for Ani DiFranco in 1998, it was a huge opportunity to reach out to media in a way that would’ve perhaps taken me another year or two or three. It was really a wonderful gift, and I just really ‘worked it’. I reached out to every possible regional press outlet, every gig I did with her. And then when I played for her fans I made sure I was ready with my mailing list and wrote follow ups to every single person I met on that tour. Shortly thereafter I auditioned for Lilith Fair, and I won that contest and ended up opening for the last year of Lilith Fair in 1999 at the PNC Bank Arts Center. Those were lucky things, that later prompted me to ask, “Why wouldn’t college radio want to play me just because I’m not on a major label?” or “Why wouldn’t I be able to start booking college gigs for a reasonable amount of money even though I don’t have a manager?” And I took those ideas and put them on paper and went to Tower Records and just presented myself in this way – the local gal that has done these particular things – and just started to slowly build my resume. In 1998 I had a similar thing happen. Someone called me out of the blue from an independent distribution company and asked if I’d like to be on their roster. He told me all I needed to do was get a Fax machine, learn how to fill out a one-sheet for retail, and try to play in- stores along my tours – all this stuff that I then immersed myself in and starting learning right away. Am I answering the question?

It all answers the question, and frankly there is no one right way to answer any of these questions…

RS:

Basically, at the exact time that that happened, I’d also sent my album to 200 college radio stations. It charted really well, but I didn’t have a radio promoter – I was doing the ‘pretending to be someone else’ thing. I made sure that I only targeted stations that were also playing kindred artists like Jewel and Ani and Sheryl Crow. Having that feedback and being able say I was being played with these artists didn’t pay my rent at that point, but it allowed me to start getting my discs into retailers and keep getting bigger and better gigs and then get a college agent. It was kind of a natural progression that way.

Tell me on a very specific level, you were starting out and going into a new market you’d never been into and cold called a promoter. What did you say that convinced them to give you a gig and how did you get anyone to show up?

RS:

I didn’t cold call promoters almost ever until many years later. I really was stuck in the New York scene, in the showcase bubble of paying to play, because you’re paying your local musicians to show up and back you up and you’re hoping that lawyer or that label will show up. I did that for a long time and I spun my wheels, and it was really depressing for me. I almost hit a wall with it where even after a year I thought, “Maybe I’ll just do acting even more and do this every once in a while, because it’s not a living, and I don’t know when my break is going to come.” That was exactly the point I was at when the album I’d finished that I mentioned started to bear fruit. One of those was Ani, one of them later on was Lilith Fair. Those two particular things that I was able to get early on were my calling card.

So that was what you put into the pitch, “Hi, I’m Rachael Sage, I recently opened up for Ani DiFranco and was on the Lilith Fair stage.”

RS:

It was never first person, but yeah. It was always someone else representing me, amusingly. I think it could’ve been first person, but I was too insecure about what the reaction might be, because I also came from the world of acting, where if you don’t have an agent calling to represent you, there’s no way someone’s going to take your call. If it was in writing or even on the phone sometimes, I was often someone else, and then when I showed up I made sure I was as conscientious as I possibly could be. I’d say 90% of the time within the first couple years I started doing those concentric circles people talk about – of touring outside your home base – I was opening for someone else. That was really strategic, because I didn’t want the pressure of totally letting down a promoter or a venue because I only had five people there.

Those opening slots were …

RS: Much smaller than Ani. I did that and said, “Okay, that was an incredible growing experience for me as an artist and it blew my mind, and I played for huge audiences.” But then I came back, and no one cared.

But getting those openers was a networking thing?

RS: No, not at all. It was purely going out on a limb and pitching, and keeping track of who was playing where, sending out a steady stream of pitches and always trying to think of it from the other person’s perspective, which is something that a decade later is what caught my eye with the artist that we recently signed to MPress – Seth Glier – who approached us about a year ago in a similar fashion. He’s fantastic, and he pitched to open for me at a venue in New Hampshire. His pitch was so specific and honest about exactly how many people he could draw, why he’d make a good opener in that setting, what about his music really fit with mine, what some of his recent accolades had been. It was presented so professionally – he was 19 at the time – and it definitely reminded me of where my head was at when I was his age and putting myself out there. A lot of that probably just comes from growing up in the performing arts and having a drive to do it so badly that you’re unable to see the likelihood that someone will throw your package in the garbage or delete your e-mail. It’s kind of a singular vision. I’ve tried to always have that every step of the way. After I opened for very big people I was often then playing regionally in teeny, tiny little coffee houses and occasionally I still am. It’s something you have to get used to very early on. You’re never going to necessarily be doing all one kind of thing. I ended up touring a couple years after that opening for Eric Burdon and the Animals for two summers, and they were amazing shows, promoted on our behalf without us barely even doing anything. And because I was an opener, and I was playing these towns all over Germany and Austria where I’d never been and didn’t have a following, it was just an incredible opportunity to try to learn, to get a million cards, to figure out how to get back there if I didn’t have this gig next time, to figure out what the small coffee house was in every town I played, or the big festival…knowing full well the next time I played if I wasn’t with Eric, that would be the only way I could perform. That’s how I’ve tried to approach it all along. It’s about looking at every single gig as an opportunity to get people on the mailing list, connect with an audience and figure out what I can do that will help me stand out as a performer.

Let’s go quickly through online tools. Which do you use, which have you found helpful and why?

RS:

In the past year or two Facebook has become an amazing tool for us. I was initially dubious about it and had been a MySpace girl for years, and had worked diligently until the wee hours or when I had ten or 15 minutes between doing other things, trying to ‘friend’ as many people as possible so when I would issue a press release or an invite it went as widely as it could. Someone who actually worked with me in my office was pressing me to have a more proactive presence on Facebook, and she saw way ahead of me. Her name is Jill Sharpe and she’s our New Media person at MPress. She saw exactly where it was going and how it could be a great tool. I think what’s so much better about it at this point is that it does allow you to connect with fans in such a personal way. It’s the complete opposite of any scenario where you have to present yourself in some uber-pro way. People want to know about every little thing you’re doing in a way that’s bringing them closer to you. Twitter is also a huge tool for us. It’s just so immediate. You don’t have to over-think it, and it’s a natural extension of what you are doing and who you are as an artist. It doesn’t really require the same kind of reflection as a lot of the other media that we still rely on – traditional press, radio, retail. For instance, yesterday I was in the studio, and I wanted some feedback on something and just Facebooked it and tweeted it and instantly had dozens of people giving me their take on it. You don’t even have to pick up the phone anymore. It’s pretty amazing. Of course we use it to spread the word about all my shows – even those that are scheduled at the very last minute. That’s not a liability anymore. Now it’s a great thing – sort of like a secret last-minute show.

And I assume because you’re good with people you don’t use it exclusively for self promotion.

RS:

No. We did a bunch of outreach in terms of local press for a show I had a couple weeks ago at Joe’s Pub. It’s always a bit of a crap shoot, but you try to cover your bases. We reached out to all the regular outlets, from Time Out to the Daily News and New York Press. I think the two worlds now have collided to the point where writers who are do coverage for those outlets may be reading up about you on Twitter and Facebook. They might be checking out if you’re in touch or out of touch, how many friends do you have, but moreover are you effectively keeping in touch with your own community? I think those are things that make traditional press want to embrace an artist more because they add to your overall profile as an artist and your accessibility.

I think writers now don’t approach artists that much differently from fans. They still want to get to know you in that personal way without that much of an effort. We had a really great experience after this last show I did where we were active on the social networks promoting a gig in New York, and it sold out. We were sort of left afterwards saying, “Wow. All that work paid off, of not only doing one thing, but being proactive online and issuing press releases to blogs and online websites and listings and traditional press and also Facebook, MySpace, Twitter.” It’s all become very important now. If I could just do one thing, I could find more time to work on my music. But I definitely haven’t found that one thing yet!

I think it’s more of a global problem in this economy. Where we had one job, we now have fifteen. The music business has just been underwater longer than the rest of the world. If I could just ask you one thing that you wished you knew starting out that you’ve come to learn, what would that be?

RS:

I can’t really say I didn’t know how much dedication it would require, how hard you have to work and how much you have to believe in yourself. Those were all things I thankfully knew. They weren’t a shock. One thing I don’t think I realized was how important it is to play a lot when you’re first starting. I had the grand illusion like many people do when they first start that something bad will happen if you overexpose yourself or play more than one or two gigs a month in your hometown. That’s going to come back to haunt you, or that somehow the approach should be more rarified. If I could do it again, I’d probably get a regular weekly gig immediately, at some hole-in-the-wall dive where I could just play, and play, and play. The bottom line is, until you work out all those kinks in what you do and learn to connect with an audience in a really meaningful way consistently, it doesn’t matter what else you’re doing. You’re getting good practice marketing yourself, but you’re not going to make that connection. I wouldn’t say I spent many years figuring that out, but I think a lot of young people today are being instilled with that value very early on, and I think it’s awesome. I think people aren’t as precious about it. But there’s a certain humility you have when you realize how many people make music, how many people are damn good at it, and what it comes down to is the work. I don’t think that’s something I really realized in the beginning.

www.rachaelsage.com • www.facebook.com/rachaelsage • www.mpressrecords.com

Posted in Advice for musicians

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Fan Funding with Jill Sobule

Posted By Musician Coaching on December 15th, 2009

Jill Sobule

For those that don’t know Jill Sobule is a gifted singer-songwriter who is probably best known for her 1995 Singles “I kissed a girl” and “Supermodel”. Jill has released seven albums full length albums and several EPs and has released records on MCA, Atlantic, Beyond and Artemis records. Jill’s most recent album was a self release that was funded entirely by her fans. I met Jill when working at Atlantic and she remains the kind and gracious person I remember from almost fifteen years ago. She was kind enough to give me some of her time by phone before the Thanksgiving Holiday.

Jill2

I know a lot of people know your name, but even though we worked together, I don’t know the earlier parts of your story or about what you initially did to build a following and first get picked up at MCA.

JS:

In those days, before there was social networking, how did you get followings? I suppose, I played shows a lot; and I remember I had a bit of a following in Denver, and then I moved to New York, and then I met someone who was a publisher out of Nashville, and he saw me at my last show in Denver before I moved to New York. He was interested in non-country acts, and he put me up at the Nashville Extravaganza. It was like the South by Southwest of Nashville. The A&R people from New York and the west coast came to Nashville, and they saw me and signed me. At first they thought it was very cool that I was this pop act from Nashville, so I let them think I was from Nashville for a while. That was the days of getting discovered. That’s how I got on MCA, though a little bit before that I was in New York. Remember those pre-YouTube Days? What you did was you played and played out. I think maybe people are coming back to this too, I hope.

You did the MCA thing for a while and had some decent success with “I Kissed a Girl” and with “Super Model” during the Atlantic years. Tell me about life after major labels.

JS:

After the album that had “I Kissed a Girl,” I did another one – “Happy Town” – and it was always my reaction to do something different and weird. I don’t think the label knew what to do with me after “I Kissed a Girl,” because, was I a novelty act? What was I? There was nothing else like “I Kissed a Girl.” It was one of those songs that was added last minute as a goofball song. I didn’t know that would be a single. It was kind of my curse and my blessing. I think when the second record happened, they still didn’t know what to do, and I was dropped. Then I was on a record label called Beyond Records, and that was another one of those where it went belly up. Then I joined Artemis with Danny Goldberg for the album after that.

I had no idea you were with so many labels subsequently.

JS:

Oh yeah. And then Danny Goldberg signed me and then went to Air America afterwards, and he was my guy. So nothing really happened after that. And then they went under. My last two before this one were on indie labels that went under. It’s not very good luck, I must say.

I wish that were an exceptional story, but it does seem to be the rule rather than the exception now.

JS:

I don’t feel special. The only thing I would like is to have all those records back. That’s my only disappointment – my only one that carries on now. There are a few of them I’d like to have back. I’d bootleg them now anyway.

After Artemis, what happened then?

JS:

After Artemis, I thought, “Enough,” for a while, and I was just playing around and gather songs, creating songs. I had a three-year gig doing music for a show for Nickelodeon called “Unfabulous.” It was the first and last time I’ve ever had a job. I scored the show for three years. It was a live action with Emma Roberts, and it was really fun. I learned so much. I remember when I was trying to get the gig – it was a friend who was creating it, and I think she knew I was lying – and I said, “Oh yes, I’ve done this before,” even though I’d never showed her my resume that had nothing on it. And it was one of those things where I said, “Okay, here’s the first show, and I have 50 cues I have to make. What do I do?” At first you’re bullshitting, and then you realize, “No, I’m doing it!” It was really kind of great. I did that, and it takes up a whole lot of time. Since I’m not savvy at the computers and my Pro Tools, I had another friend – one in New York and one in L.A. – work with me on it, because I was always between the two towns. Then, I thought, “I’ve got this collection of songs.” Throughout this all, my following was growing, even before there was Facebook. I had newsgroups, and I was really, really good at communicating with fans. I had a really good relationship.

About six months before I did this jillsnextrecord.com, I said, “Hey, what would you guys think? There’s no point in going to another label. What’s the point, and why would they have me?” I said, “Would you guys contribute to my next record?” And it was overwhelmingly great response. In the meantime, I kept playing a lot. I played in New York a lot. And I do this thing called “The Jill and Julia Show.” I do this thing with Julia Sweeney from Saturday Night Live, and we’re still doing it. She tells a story and I sing. In the meantime, I’ve been completely active and actually touring a lot. In a way, it’s like Old Time and New Time. On one hand, you build a fan base online and on the other hand, you work Old Time and hit the road. I actually came up with an idea – jillsnextrecord.com – where fans, at first just my fans on my newsletter would help me make a record. And I didn’t want them to just give me money, so I developed different levels of contribution in return for different gifts and services. For $25, you get the first CD before it’s released. I didn’t know how I was going to release it, but … everything from free concert tickets, to “I’m going to put you in the thank you’s,” to “In my last song I’m going to mention your name,” to house concerts, to weapons-grade plutonium. The weapons-grade plutonium was a total joke; for $10,000, a person could sing on my record. Someone actually did it. It was so much fun, and the great thing and scary thing about it was, I thought, “This could’ve just been my mother and a few fans.”

phonebank

Were you hopeful this would really get funded? That’s such a leap of faith in so many ways.

JS:

I tried to figure out how much it would cost to record the record, and I tried to figure out, “What do labels do?” I figured out how much it would cost to market it, hire a publicist, tour. I put together some arbitrary number that seemed like even for a label that would be an indie would be a budget. And if I would’ve gotten $10,000 that would’ve been fine, I would’ve done that too. I ended up in less than two months getting that, and I had to stop it, because people kept putting more in.

Wow. It’s just so flattering.

JS:

I know, it’s crazy. And a lot of that was just presales too.

You’re an artist that’s been around the block – on the majors and the indies, doing it yourself. What did you do to put out this record? My understanding is it’s done pretty well.

JS:

Well, I don’t know how well it’s done. I don’t know who buys records. I sell a lot of them online and at the shows. What I did was I had a manager at the time when I first did it, who I knew was so wrong. He was a nice guy, but he was so wrong. I remember he came to the studio when I recorded it, and we were finally at the end. He said, “This is great. I can’t wait to have a CD. Burn me a CD so we can start shopping this.” And I said, “No! People would kill me.” So I found someone that felt the same way I did, even though I don’t think even he knew how much work and what a pain in the ass it was. I just hired someone for distribution and a publicist. There were a few items where I probably wasted money; like people working with “new media.” “We’re going to help with your brand.” What is that?

It can be very vague unless you get someone to detail a plan for you.

JS:

Exactly. I think I had some losers. That’s what I did. It seems like the last thing I had were some stores, and you can get it – like Barnes and Noble. Who knows if the next time it will ever be hard copies. I think the only reason to have hard copies is that it shows; people can have a souvenir.

How have you found the touring changing in the last few years? Have you found the kind of access fans have and the reach you have with fans has changed that for you?

JS:

Well, I’m not at the level where my tickets are really expensive, and because of the economy they can’t come to my shows.

I guess I mean reaching out before you get to a region.

JS:

Oh yeah, well, that’s fantastic. Today on my Facebook, I say, “Going to Denver. Who wants my extra drink tickets? Who wants a backstage pass?” I’m still at a level where it can be pretty personal. And maybe someday it will grow so fast, but right now it’s at a place that suits me. There are certain artists that want to have a wall between them and their audience. But I like feeling like I’m just in someone’s living room.

That’s really nice.

JS:

It takes up a lot of time though. I spent a lot of time on the internet. I went over my 5,000 friend limit on Facebook.

I know, I got an e-mail about that. I was mortally offended. (joking)

JS:

I know, I feel so bad. What can I do? I wish I could just have one. It’s a pain in the ass, because I have my Twitter, my Facebook, my Facebook musician page and my Website. I haven’t looked at Myspace in ages.

There are just too many places to be present online now.

JS:

That’s the hard thing. I’m constantly learning right now. I feel like after I get back from tour, it’s back to the chalk board. I have to figure out what my next adventure will be and how to do it.

Are you going to be doing another record?

JS: I have this idea that in the meantime I’m going to do a bunch of little EP’s and put them on my web page – songs that are special event songs, like a Valentine’s song. I’m thinking about the most depressing Valentine’s song, or just really sad songs. I’m going to have themes for my EP’s.