As a bandmate of mine likes to say, music is "an accumulation game". This is certainly true of making a living from performing, and it's a reasonable reflection of the portfolio careers my peers and I have worked hard and been lucky to build over the last couple of decades.
I'm always struck when someone interested in a career in folk music seems to view it as an 'off-the-rack' career one could apply for. I'm sure if I had a more nuanced understanding of other professions, I might recognise this as less unique to music, but it does feel like: if I go to law school, medical school, qualify as an accountant, do well and apply for positions in those fields, I will indeed find myself firmly in a career in that respective field. And in post there will be a pre-determined set of responsibilities and tasks before me. However, there isn't really a job that is 'folk-musician'. We are part of a group that must craft our own careers, and each chooses their own compilation of tasks, trade-offs, and non-negotiables that shape our definition of the job.
In many respects, this is a privilege; it allows us to craft our work to our own values and life. In other respects, it's a relentless responsibility, as it's not just us who get a vote; it's our collaborators, agents, promoters, funders, COVID, customs, and the many other external factors we cannot control.
Working as a musician means confronting the realities of music as a business. You make decisions that will impact your trajectory, income, and lifestyle. Bands take years to build and 'take to market'. Established practices around album cycles and the way promoters want to book bands, when they want to book them, and who they want to book them through all factor in.
Sometimes I worry that in the struggle to make a living as a musician, we get lost in that motion, in that struggle, and it's hard to see the strategic view of what we're doing.
One thing I've been sure about for a while is that I don't want to be on tour constantly; I want more time at home and for the time on the road to really pay off artistically and commercially. I've thought of this very practically for a while, but lately I've been struck by the artistic price of all this running around.
The zero-sum school of thought of doing as many gigs as possible, and ubiquitously marketing bands and music everywhere all the time, clearly has its place, and I don't want to yuck anyone's yum. But I think for me that's never felt right, and whilst I've bought into a certain amount of that as part of making a living as a musician I feel like I might have the privilege and latitidue at this point to embrace an approach which feels more aligned to my values and how I like to interact with culture: 'less but better.'
I am a quality-over-quantity guy through and through. I love artisan, thoughtful, lovingly crafted things. I'd happily pay ten times more for a jacket, not made by slaves, designed by people who really care about what they're doing and that I enjoy as a material expression of all of that every time I put it on. Of course, some people would find that mad. I'm not inciting an argument about minimalism being more virtuous than maximalism; I'm simply stating an honest preference.
I've felt spread thin, creatively, time-wise, energy-wise, commitment-wise, for as long as I can remember. I think this is a common assumption and acceptance in our industry that 'that's just the way it is' and I am all for graft and respect our scene requires committed, hard work. I love that our community is one of creative, cheeky, grafters.
But I'd really like to see what I could produce creatively if I stopped spreading all that effort so thinly and instead focused it on making the best work I can, and in the best ways I can. In my experience, musicians are obsessed with quality in certain respects: being good, having the best gear, having the knowledge, expertise, skill, experience, etc., but I don't think we talk nearly enough about working in a way that is 'good'. Good for the planet, good for people, good for communities.
All of this is a privileged perspective. I've been incredibly lucky to be part of such an amazing industry and community, and to have had amazing opportunities allowing me to work as a musician. This is not me writing a manifesto for how I think we all ought to be working, as I said, one of the great things about being a musician is that there are as many expressions of what that means out there as there are musicians. Instead, this is just me, thinking aloud, trying to work out for myself how I can make the most of this privilege and make the best, most honest music I can.
I'm always struck when someone interested in a career in folk music seems to view it as an 'off-the-rack' career one could apply for. I'm sure if I had a more nuanced understanding of other professions, I might recognise this as less unique to music, but it does feel like: if I go to law school, medical school, qualify as an accountant, do well and apply for positions in those fields, I will indeed find myself firmly in a career in that respective field. And in post there will be a pre-determined set of responsibilities and tasks before me. However, there isn't really a job that is 'folk-musician'. We are part of a group that must craft our own careers, and each chooses their own compilation of tasks, trade-offs, and non-negotiables that shape our definition of the job.
In many respects, this is a privilege; it allows us to craft our work to our own values and life. In other respects, it's a relentless responsibility, as it's not just us who get a vote; it's our collaborators, agents, promoters, funders, COVID, customs, and the many other external factors we cannot control.
Working as a musician means confronting the realities of music as a business. You make decisions that will impact your trajectory, income, and lifestyle. Bands take years to build and 'take to market'. Established practices around album cycles and the way promoters want to book bands, when they want to book them, and who they want to book them through all factor in.
Sometimes I worry that in the struggle to make a living as a musician, we get lost in that motion, in that struggle, and it's hard to see the strategic view of what we're doing.
One thing I've been sure about for a while is that I don't want to be on tour constantly; I want more time at home and for the time on the road to really pay off artistically and commercially. I've thought of this very practically for a while, but lately I've been struck by the artistic price of all this running around.
The zero-sum school of thought of doing as many gigs as possible, and ubiquitously marketing bands and music everywhere all the time, clearly has its place, and I don't want to yuck anyone's yum. But I think for me that's never felt right, and whilst I've bought into a certain amount of that as part of making a living as a musician I feel like I might have the privilege and latitidue at this point to embrace an approach which feels more aligned to my values and how I like to interact with culture: 'less but better.'
I am a quality-over-quantity guy through and through. I love artisan, thoughtful, lovingly crafted things. I'd happily pay ten times more for a jacket, not made by slaves, designed by people who really care about what they're doing and that I enjoy as a material expression of all of that every time I put it on. Of course, some people would find that mad. I'm not inciting an argument about minimalism being more virtuous than maximalism; I'm simply stating an honest preference.
I've felt spread thin, creatively, time-wise, energy-wise, commitment-wise, for as long as I can remember. I think this is a common assumption and acceptance in our industry that 'that's just the way it is' and I am all for graft and respect our scene requires committed, hard work. I love that our community is one of creative, cheeky, grafters.
But I'd really like to see what I could produce creatively if I stopped spreading all that effort so thinly and instead focused it on making the best work I can, and in the best ways I can. In my experience, musicians are obsessed with quality in certain respects: being good, having the best gear, having the knowledge, expertise, skill, experience, etc., but I don't think we talk nearly enough about working in a way that is 'good'. Good for the planet, good for people, good for communities.
All of this is a privileged perspective. I've been incredibly lucky to be part of such an amazing industry and community, and to have had amazing opportunities allowing me to work as a musician. This is not me writing a manifesto for how I think we all ought to be working, as I said, one of the great things about being a musician is that there are as many expressions of what that means out there as there are musicians. Instead, this is just me, thinking aloud, trying to work out for myself how I can make the most of this privilege and make the best, most honest music I can.