Work: Surviving the Arts

Exploring issues of sustainability in the arts.

~by Scott Pinkmountain

“Advice Column”

I’ve taught songwriting to college students some, and a few months ago I received an email from a former student. He caught me up on where he landed after college and sent me some of his music to check out. Then he added:

I’ve played a few shows at some bars around Portland and have a streak going of quieting the room, which has been super encouraging. But, I was wondering if you had any advice for going further with my music. I don’t really have any idea where to go from here, or how to take the next step or anything.

P.S. I also got my first short story published a few months ago. Though being a school bus driver for the year made it a constant struggle to pay the bills, it gave me plenty of time for writing, and that’s been totally worth it.

I sat on the email a few days because I wanted to get this right. I thought back to being 22, (almost 20 years ago) having just graduated and moved to the Bay Area with tremendous ambition and expectations about what could/should happen with my creative work, remembering what it felt like to not have the slightest idea how to proceed. I didn’t even know where music happened in town, let alone how to go about getting a gig. But this student was already miles ahead of where I was at that point – he’s getting gigs, he’s already gotten a story published, he’s quieting the room for chrissake, something I still struggle with. It didn’t seem like providing him with email contacts to bookers or pointers on how to write a press release were the most valuable things I could offer. So I tried to imagine what I wish I’d internalized at that age, and what would have helped me the most over the many years to come of pursuing a creative practice.

Dear B,
In terms of advice and ideas about next steps, you’re already doing what you should be doing. You’ve chosen a great place to move to – it’s relatively cheap, there’s a ton of musicians, a ton of venues, and the winter is a good time to hunker down and work. It’s not overly intense or competitive like NY, but there are enough musicians out there that you will be challenged and get exposed to other ideas, techniques, etc…

I’d suggest you play as many shows as you can in as many different contexts. Big rooms, small rooms, friendly and unfriendly crowds, on the street, in noisy coffee houses, in people’s living rooms, through crappy P.A.s with broken gear. Treat every show with the same level of seriousness and intensity, always do your absolute best, and try to have a good attitude about it, or if you don’t, keep it to yourself. If there’s even one person in the room there to hear you, you might turn them off forever by bringing your complaints to the stage. (I’ve been that one person, and even though I know better, I might not give that artist a second chance).

Go hear other musicians a lot – not just big names but people at your level or even what you perceive of as below your level. These people will eventually become your community and having a strong community is crucial to surviving and maintaining a long-term creative practice. Seek out good people who you share creative and aesthetic values with AND whose company you enjoy. Don’t waste your time around people who you think you should befriend but treat you like shit or don’t give you the time of day. That will never yield what you hope it might. There’s no way to know it now, but some of the friendships you make today – the ones based on a real interpersonal connection – will potentially lead to “professional” (for lack of a better word) opportunities in the future, maybe many years down the road. That gal who always wants to talk to you about Captain Beefheart records after every show – she might be running a label in 10 years. The guy that pulls a shot of espresso every time you hit the quietest moment in a song – he might eventually start a non-profit arts organization. The band you split a practice room with that keeps pestering you to share a bill even though they can’t play in tune, in tempo, or write a song to save their lives – they might offer you an opening slot on their sold out national tour after they’ve gotten their shit together and blown everyone away.

But the connections you attempt to make because you think they’ll help your “career” will almost never lead to anything good. Follow your music, follow the sounds you hear in your head, commit to the people who will commit back to you, and stay as true as you possibly can to those values. Don’t do anything you don’t believe in, don’t play a single note of music that you don’t enjoy playing. I would even say, don’t take money for music unless it’s music you want to play. It might be tempting to play weddings or generic bar gigs in that at least you’re playing music for money rather than doing something else, but from what I’ve seen, it can sour people on music in general. It doesn’t appear to foster the kind of fruitful creative life that you’re after (unless you LOVE playing weddings). It’s not all going to be fun, it’s going to take a lifetime of work and it may never “go” anywhere, but try to never play music that feels bad to play – either because of the people involved, the sounds you’re making, the context, whatever.

In terms of more concrete things, if you can put on a decent solo show, get out and drive up and down the west coast doing shows at least twice a year. If you can get a band together and keep it together long enough to get decent, try to tour with those folks – Oly, Seattle, SF, Davis, Santa Cruz, LA, San Diego – if you can get everyone away from their jobs long enough to do that. Do it as often and cheaply as you can. Play anywhere. Put “success” and “career” as far out of your mind as possible. There are few things less conducive to a healthy creative life than the word “professional.” Make music because you love it with people you love.

As for writing, if you can write daily, even 20 minutes a day, do that. If you can cultivate a discipline of practice with both writing and music, do that. If you only have time for one, pick one and set the other aside for now. Try to focus if you can. There will be time to come back to the other later. There will always be time to write if/when you leave Portland and move somewhere without a music community and friends, etc… Music is a lot tougher and less fun to do in isolation. You need bars and clubs and practice rooms and bandmates. To write you only need paper and a pen, and eventually a computer and an internet connection to send out your stories.

I know this is maybe not the kind of advice you’re seeking, but I can’t stress enough how important it is to NOT focus on “career” type stuff. Everyone I know who’s had any public success in the music world arrived there through friends; close intimate connections. They knew someone who wanted to start a booking agency, or who needed a bass player, or their friend’s band got really big and mentioned them in an interview. Stuff like that. Or they hit the road and toured alone in a little car, sleeping on floors, playing house shows and cafes and whatever, meeting people and building relationships solely because they loved to do all that stuff, and after years of that, had “overnight” success.

And even if that wasn’t the case – even if they never reached a big audience or got glowing national press or had a cool label put our their record or ever made a single penny from their work – the only people I know who are remotely happy are the ones who follow their own vision of success on their own terms and make creative work they believe in.

I’m not sure if I’m writing this to you or to myself at this point, but either way, I wish you a long, rich and rewarding creative life.

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Scott Pinkmountain is a writer and musician living in Pioneertown, CA. His writing has appeared on This American Life, in The Rumpus, A Public Space, HTMLGIANT, and other publications, and he hosts the Make/Work podcast for The Rumpus. He has also released dozens of albums of both instrumental music and songs. He works as a music analyst for Pandora Radio. He can be found at www.scottpinkmountain.com and @spinkmountain.

Aaron Hawn is a photographer and musician who lives in Pioneertown, CA. In 2012, after cycling the back roads of Louisiana and Texas, he released a book of photography called, “Warm Dome”. Hawn’s images frequently feature barren and personal landscapes. www.aaronhawn.com