So how’m I doing in my quest to re-invent my life, follow my evolving Blisses and create the life I really, really want?

In all the hustle and bustle, I forgot I was a musician.

This is what happens when you’ve got multiple Blisses.

Or at least it’s what happens to me. I learned years ago (thank god) that trying to do all of my Blisses full-steam-ahead all the time doesn’t work, so instead I allow them to cycle around at will.

It’s really the only way to stay sane, if you’re me. But the downside is that when one of my Blisses is simmering on the back burner, sometimes I forget that, oh, yeah, I’m actually really good at this thing and totally in love with it!

That’s what gigs are for: to remind me.

Take last night. I performed with my 3 partners in crime, Cathi Walkup, Leanne Weatherly and Jennifer Lee, in what I think was the 5th of our Women of Song (formerly Ladies of Jazz) concerts. This time at an amazing house concert venue in Oakland called Avonova.

The Women of Song concerts are done not-quite “in the round”, each artist taking turns to sing a few songs at a time — 3 songs in the first set and 2 more after the break (all original material, by the way – we’re all singer/songwriters). At the very end the four of us do closing number together – so far it’s always been Bye, Bye Blackbird – where we each get a chance to stretch out in an improv solo, finishing up with some group harmony.

It’s a lot of fun, and with the four of us (and our four individual mailing lists) we have a lot more draw than I’d have doing a show on my own. Although my mailing list is over 550 people at this point, you’d be surprised how hard it is to fill a room.

Plus, although we’re all really more influenced by jazz than rock-and-roll, these women ROCK. I feel incredibly honored to be included among such talented musicians and songwriters. We’re all very different from each other, but with complementary styles.

In other words, it’s a solid show.

The response from attendees is always great. I get new fans at each concert – people coming up to give me heartfelt thanks, which always touches me; people raving about my “comedy act” and telling me I should get into the comedy club circuit; and last night one guy, who’s a songwriter himself and moving to Nashville, actually told me that my not being in Nashville is a travesty.

This does not suck.

I’m all for developing independence from external validation, but the fact is, when people respond enthusiastically to your work, it makes a difference.

It validates that what you’re doing is important. It encourages you to persevere. It reinforces that yes, you are supposed to be doing this thing.

This is one reason why I feel it’s so important for creatives to share what they do with the world.

For many of us, the majority of the time we spend doing our art is in isolation. We may get into the flow, feel deeply connected to our creativity, to Spirit, to… something.

But human beings are social creatures, and without a connection to other people, something is lost.

This is exactly why I started my not-quite Daily Artfix newsletter. I knew intuitively that sharing my work, getting responses from other people, was somehow important.

I was right. Just the act of creating the newsletter and sending my work out into the ether — even without knowing for sure if anyone would look at it — affected my sense of myself as an artist. And though nothing is as powerful as an in-person connection (as at a gig!) the emails I get in response to my not-quite Daily Artfix dispatches energize me to keep doing it.

I’ve made my living from my art for years, and still this is important!

Every new creative thing you try is like a fragile child you’re sending off to school for the first time. No, it’s like sending your own soul off to school for the first time.

What will it be like? Will anyone like me? Will people pick on me? Will I be safe?

Yes, I make my living from my art, but I still have these fears. Besides, the art I make my living from, my ketubah art, is a totally different form, different style, different everything. Plus it’s frequently created to the specifications of my clients — I know they’re going to like it before it’s even done, because it’s exactly what they’ve directed me to create.

Now I’m finally expressing what I want to create. And feedback from people who resonate with it helps my scared inner artist child know that it’s safe to keep putting it out there.

And it is scary. I know it’s scary. It’s scary for me every single time.

But it’s also important.

Artists must not only do; they must also share.

Well, of course they don’t have to, but what a loss when they don’t. Kathryn Siranosian recently wrote about an astonishing and tragic case of talent going unshared over at 365 Days of Genius, called Don’t Be A Lost Linchpin.

The title says it all.

Now, this is obviously not in danger of happening in my life — I love the limelight way too much for that! But even so, there was some block keeping me from putting my art out there in a big way. And busting that block, getting a newsletter out and my new artwork up for show and sale on my website was a powerful act.

Whether you’re a musician, a visual artist, an actor, a comedian, a writer or any other kind of creative, sharing your art with the world establishes to you that yes, you are an artist.

So what’s stopping you?

Yep, it’s true! I’ve had a big goal for a long time of carrying a night by myself, soloing on voice and ukulele. And, okay, although I’m not carrying the whole night by myself, I am responsible for half of it.

Which is pretty cool if I do say so myself.

The Uke Diva finally gets to strut her (my) stuff in full regalia! The delightful Mandalyn May will keep you entertained for the other half of the evening. We met at the FAR-West conference in October, and I’m big fan of hers, so I was very flattered when she invited me to share the stage.

If you’re anywhere near Berkeley, California on Saturday, come on by! Click on the image at left to download a PDF of the flyer.

(And look at me, Ms. I-Only-Have-Time-To-Post-Once-A-Week, posting THREE times this week [and counting]! It helps that this one was [uncharacteristically] short… Now back to work…)

Sometimes the Universe gives you a clear message you’re on the right path. Like having a TV interview fall into your lap.

Sometimes, though, the Universe also likes to throw obstacles in your way, perhaps to make sure you’re really committed.

That’s me in the photo above, on the set of Colorful Journey of Success at KMVT, with host Clare Mullin, and the amazing crew of middle school kids in the Studio Production class (led by the phenomenal Bobbie, in the green T-shirt). Clare called out of the blue last week to see if I’d like to appear on her show to talk about my success as an artist/performer, and to sing a couple of songs. What fun!

I was delighted to have the opportunity, and took it as a sign from the Universe that getting myself out there as a performer is the right path for me to be on.

But the Universe has a sense of humor, and apparently it needed to test my mettle a bit.

A surprise disability

Last month was the 20th anniversary of the Americans with Disabilities Act. As a healthy yogini, and a super-active person, the significance of this piece of legislation is not normally at the forefront of my consciousness. However, it certainly was this week, when I had a taste of what it’s like to be disabled.

Monday morning I woke up with a bruised, sore, lay-on-my-side-too-long feeling in my right hip. Sitting at my computer I had to acknowledge that I was not just in discomfort; I was in pain.

I first thought it was something that would work itself out, but it didn’t work itself out. It got worse.

The next day I woke up and had difficulty rolling myself out of bed. Getting in and out of a chair (or using the toilet!) made me feel like an arthritic centenarian.

What was going on?

Suddenly, and without warning, I was, I had to admit it, pretty disabled: I quite literally wasn’t able to do things I normally do without any thought.

Here I was scheduled to be interviewed and perform on local TV at 10am, and I wasn’t sure if/how I was going to manage it!

Buck up, Melissa

I was filled with new appreciation for people like Jon Morrow, Associate Editor of Copyblogger (among other things). Jon first came to my attention through a great interview in Question the Rules (affiliate link), and he has been on my mind a lot lately thanks to a series of excellent videos about building a popular blog through guest blogging. Jon has dealt with significant physical challenges his entire life, but has not let that stop him from achieving phenomenal success in a number of different fields.

If Jon could sell multi-million dollar homes that he couldn’t even get inside with his wheelchair to see, I could get myself to and through a local TV appearance, goddammit!

So despite the pain, I hobbled to my car, loaded up my guitar and a bunch of my artwork, and shlepped the few blocks over to the studio.

One unexpected side benefit of my mysterious disability was that the interview [I'll post the video clip when I have it — join my music mailing list if you want to be the first to know when the show is aired], which was going to be broadcast live, ended up being taped instead, to allow the image to fade to black while I wrestled and grimaced my way out of my chair in order to perform standing with my guitar. And again when I wrestled and grimaced my way back into my chair afterwords. A small silver lining, though I would have preferred to do the show live and be pain free.

Yes, I admit it: I’m a worry wart

I got through the TV appearance, and drove straight to my chiropractor, but my head was spinning. Thanks to the worrying gene I inherited from my mother, when something scary and out of the ordinary like this happens, my mind has a tendency to jump to scary places.

What if this pain becomes permanent?

What if it turns out to be some awful tumor or something?

What if this is my life from now on?

This was a test, this was only a test

Thankfully, after a full suite of (loud and painful) adjustments, some ibuprofen and a day of babying, my hip is significantly better. It was apparently just a mysterious muscle inflammation. I’m moving around a lot more easily, and even got through a full yoga class yesterday (though pigeon pose was excruciating — clearly the piriformis is involved.)

But the entire episode was yet another little smack upside the head from the Universe: a great reminder that if I have goals I want to manifest, there’s no time like the present.

Maybe if I pay attention now I can avoid what inevitably comes next: a major crisis; a resounding whallop upside the head with a 2×4.

Time to get serious and refocus on what I really, really want. Again.

After my enthusiastic reception when I performed at Jazz Camp West and CCMC, and at Saturday’s Ladies of Jazz concert, I’m realizing that I want performing to be a big part of that picture. I had put my music on the back burner during my Great Financial Panic of Early 2010, in deference to other pursuits that seem like more likely money-makers.

But hell, you only live once, and god only knows for how long. And I really want this performing thing. I don’t even know exactly what it’s going to look like (people have been referring to my “stand up routine,” and although I’ve never, ever thought of myself as a stand up, suddenly I’m looking at that picture and really liking it), and I realized just today that I’m scared sh*tless of biggifying.

But fear be damned. The Universe does not send enthusiastic new fans and accolades and CD sales and TV interviews when it wants you to let something lie fallow.

Baby steps

I’ve been given a mission, and I intend to follow it through.

I even made a couple of baby steps forward:

• On Tuesday I entered a couple of music competitions for the first time in my life.

• Yesterday, after a friend introduced me via email to a jazz radio DJ in Denver, I sent off CDs to Jazz 89 KUVO/KVJZ. (I mean duh, right? Somehow my fear of biggification had me so blocked that the very concept of sending my CDs to radio stations was simply not appearing on my radar.)

Next up: researching other stations to send my CD. Jazz and/or comedy shows would be natural targets, as well as shows having to do dating and relationships. (Got suggestions? Leave them in the comments below.)

I’m also committing to getting out to open mics, at least one a week — starting next week — to workshop my act, meet other Bay Area performers, network and just get myself out there.

So there you go: Melissa’s new path re-adjustment for the second half of 2010. I’m going for it. Not exactly sure how, but I’ll shape the picture as I go along.

What are you going for?

This little Kodak Zi8 Pocket Video Camera (Amazon affiliate link) that I got the other day is pretty nifty… if somewhat unpredictable. The first set from Saturday night’s concert somehow got recorded at double speed.

Huh??? Curiouser and curiouser.

(Any of you techies out there have a magic bullet?)

Thankfully, the video from set #2 is at normal speed, but for some reason the image came out extremely blurry and blown-out.

???

Curiouser and curiouser.

Ah, well, at least it will give you a little taste of what I was up to on Saturday.

The enthusiastic audience packed the room (standing-room-only), and also bought up a ton of CDs (thank you!)

Huge thanks to Leanne Weatherly for organizing, and to Leanne, Cathi Walkup and Jennifer Lee for contributing their considerable talents to a truly wonderful evening. And more huge thanks to the amazing band: Tom Tomasello on keys, Paul Collins on bass, Terry Loose on drums.

It was such a success that we may recreate the same concert lineup at some additional Bay Area venues — stay tuned!

Enjoy! And be sure to leave your comments, here and/or on YouTube.

So how am I doing in my quest to re-invent my life, follow my evolving Blisses and create the life I really, really want? Usually posted on Saturday, Review #14 is a couple of days late because I was far away from internet access all last week. Read on…

Imagine that you have a ticket to utopia. For just over a week, you get to leave your daily worries behind, and hang out in a little slice of heaven, pouring your heart and soul into your Bliss (or one of them, if you’re Multi-Passionate, like me). Eden on earth.

Pretty awesome, yes?

The only problem: your stay only lasts 8 days, and then you’re unceremoniously booted out of utopia, and back into your normal life.

That’s what it’s like to go to music camp. A week of heaven, and then wham, back to normality.

(Complete with annoyances such as non-functioning computers, which were supposed to be fixed by the new hard drive that was installed during your absence, but are instead even worse than before, making it utterly impossible to work on urgent client deadlines.

But let’s not go there, or this post will turn into a moaning stress-fest.)

Can you tell I’m in post-camp let-down? In fact, right now I feel rather like a wrung-out washrag. If past experience is any indicator, it will take a good week to recover.

So why put myself through it, you may ask, if re-entry is so difficult?

It’s rather like Alfred Lord Tennyson’s poem In Memoriam: 27, 1850:

I hold it true, whate’er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
‘Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.

Tennyson could have been writing about music camp.

Music Camp: my little slice of heaven

I have three little islands of wonderfulness in my year: my Spring Retreat with my calligraphy guild in March, Jazz Camp West in June/July, and CCMC (California Coast Music Camp) in mid-July. Each one is magical in its own way, and each inevitably results in some degree of letdown after I come home. Sometimes it feels like the rest of the year is just marking time until I get to head to utopia again.

If you’re wondering what’s so wonderful about music camp, here’s a list that represents just the tip of the proverbial iceberg:

• I get to completely retreat from the stresses of daily life (no cell phone service! no internet!)
• I get to focus 100% on music all week (a Bliss of mine that lately has gotten short shrift)
• I’m around people, feeling connected, rather than my usual state of isolation, working home alone
• I don’t have to cook – all food is provided
• I’m out walking – in the woods! – every day, multiple times a day
• I get to perform and get feedback
• I get to mark how far I’ve come since the last camp
• I get a much-needed reminder of how important my Bliss is to me
• Since I went to Jazz Camp thanks to a generous work-study scholarship, I get to help with the running of camp, which means I get to feel useful
• I get to push myself in ways that are less likely to happen in a less intensive setting
• I get to try new things (this year I took a looping class with Kid Beyond)
• I get to witness some of the most amazing live music on the planet at the nightly faculty concerts
• I get to support other campers at the student performances

And to paint a more vivid picture for you, imagine this: you wake up to a brisk, misty morning in the mountains that caress the western edge of Silicon Valley. You step from your cabin or tent to head down to breakfast, and on the path to the dining hall you pass a piano and a drum kit sheltered in a grove of redwoods. (There are – get this – 40 pianos scattered throughout the camp, many of them outdoors in the woods. A full-time piano tuner on staff keeps them in tune, with the help of dehumidifiers and tarps to protect them from morning dew.)

Later in the day, as you walk to your class in an outdoor amphitheater or redwood grove (or, yes, an actual indoor room), you hear the strains of a gospel choir from around the bend, a salsa dance class behind you, conga drumming on the dining hall deck.

Close to 300 other jazz lovers take over the woods for the week: vocalists, pianists, brass and woodwind players, guitarists, violinists, dancers, drummers, percussionists… If you get a chance to perform, it’s in front of the most musically knowlegable audience you can imagine, but also the most supportive.

People often refer to Jazz Camp (and CCMC) as a “family,” and it does have that feeling. Warm. Loving. Connected.

The imperfect part of utopia

Okay, okay, it’s not all roses and light. Or shall we say, the roses come with some thorns.

Sharing a cabin with 8 women means not a lot of privacy (tenters have a leg up here), not to mention the inevitable sleep interruptions from snoring, stomping around, getting up early, coming in late.

And the bunk beds, with their pathetic so-called mattresses, leave me longing for the comfort of my European Sleepworks bed.

And although I love that I don’t have to cook, I have to admit the food leaves a little to be desired.

Then there are the mosquitoes, the raccoons (an intrepid specimen invaded our cabin one midnight, plundering one of my cabin-mates’ stash of chocolate), the cold (believe it or not, I dress for a New York winter at the outdoor evening faculty concerts), the long walk to the (very rustic) bathroom in the middle of the night, and the ever-present dirt.

Did I mention the dirt?

It does make one appreciate the comforts of home. Still, given my druthers, I’d rather be there.

Ephemeralness: a required ingredient?

But of course, part of what makes utopia so utopian is precisely because it is limited to one week. Much as I might fantasize about Jazz Camp lasting for weeks, months, even years, I know the reality wouldn’t be as sweet as the brief week I long for during the rest of the year.

Personalities would no doubt grate. The beds and the food would be intolerable. The sleep deprivation would be more than my system could handle.

As it is, the week has a lovely arc. A perfect, and perfectly sweet, beginning, middle and end. Always with unexpected growth, revelations, connections and lessons.

A few highlights from this year:

• a breakdown that led to a breakthrough in the second day of the Vocal Intensive class with jazz vocalist and teacher extraordinaire, Kellye Gray
• singing my friend Ron Karr‘s song, Seventh Street, at the Monday night open mic
• helping the camp videographer record the open mics and final night performances
• several singers (including faculty and seasoned pro, Denise Perrier) asking for the chart of my song, He’s Just Not That Into You, after hearing me perform it on Thursday night at the Vocal Intensive concert
• selling a dozen copies of Online Dating Blues and donating all of the money back to the scholarship fund
• Grammy-nominated Brazilian pianist Jovino Santos Neto calling He’s Just Not That Into You “the coolest song ever!”
• dancing like a mad woman at the Friday night dance party

And, as always, just refocusing on music, and reminding myself how important it is to me.

This last one is perhaps the most important, and lasting, effect of my week in utopia. The slings and arrows of normal life, the frustrations of trying to get gigs and keep motivated in the face of so many obstacles, including the efforts of having to make a living – all of these make it hard to keep my Blisses, particularly music, at the center of my life. Music camp is a little burst of energy, propelling me forward just when my energies are starting to drag.

Yes, the week after is always hard, but it’s more than worth it. Besides, I get to spend another week in utopia at CCMC in less than two weeks.

Needless to say, all other Blisses got put on hold for the duration of camp. Now the challenge is to get back to work integrating and balancing them. I’ve got my work cut out for me.

And right now, it’s off to bed, where I hope to dream of music camp.

Ever wondered what’s involved in making a CD of original music? At the end of 2009 I recorded and self-produced my first “official” release, Online Dating Blues, and here’s a glimpse inside the process. (Originally published 1/18/10 on ketubahdiva.com)

Part Four: Support from Unexpected Corners, and Finally In the Studio!

I’d done my homework: thanks to suggestions from friends I’d met at Music Strategies, the email I sent to my fan base included links to a web page tricked out with PayPal buttons for donations and pre-orders. I have a modicum of html skills, and thankfully PayPal makes it super-easy to make a “buy now” button, even for a non-techie.

I also offered people the option of sending a check, calling me up with a credit card, or giving cash if they preferred (which turned out to be very wise), but I wanted to make it as easy as possible for people to donate on impulse!

Would people contribute? My guitar teacher, Carol McComb, had raised an unbelievable amount for her CD 10 or so years back, but I think her list of (incredibly loyal) students was a lot bigger than my list of fans (about 500 strong), and being a performer with an erratic (to put it mildly) gig schedule, rather than a performer and teacher with multiple ongoing weekly classes, meant that I didn’t have quite the loyal following that she did.

(But then again, with a budget of about one-twentieth of her last CD’s, I didn’t need to raise as much either.)

Still, there was a fair amount of fingernail biting. $2,000-2,500 isn’t enough to bankrupt anyone, but without outside contributions it would certainly be going to debt…

And then there’s The Economy… I knew I wasn’t the only one with a lot less disposable income to play around with these days.. Was my whole idea just completely crazy?

Then lo-and-behold, 52 minutes after sending my email my first contribution rolled in, for 100$! Talk about validation.

Especially validating, and surprising, was that it was from a friend from the calligraphy and book arts world, Carol, who has never seen me perform, and whom I hadn’t seen in more years than I can count.

!

Within 24 hours, I received eight donations and pledges, to the tune of $285. Not a bad start!

******

Now that money was actually coming in, the pressure was on. This CD project was becoming more real! I was going to have to deliver a CD, and one that would, I hoped, satisfy all of my contributors!

My first recording session was scheduled for December 21, and as the date drew nearer and friends left and right were catching colds, I felt as if I were holding my breath, praying that I would stay healthy. I recorded myself singing my songs and playing my guitar and uploaded these “scratch tracks” to a page on my website and sent the link to the guys in the band so they could get a (rough!) idea of what we’d be recording.

Into the studio!

The morning of the 21st I packed up charts of all my songs and drove an hour to my drummer John’s garage studio, Idea Room, in Concord. John spent the next hour setting up mikes and plugging in cables until the tiny space was a tangle of black cable.

With a drum kit, an upright bass, an electric keyboard, music stands, mikes and various large boxes of sound equipment, I had about a 2-foot square space to stand in. The four of us were in a for a long day of very intense work, in very close quarters. And honestly, I can’t imagine much that would be more fun!

After much fussing with cables and computers on John’s part, we all had big (tight!) earphones on, through which we could hear everyone: John’s drums, Doug’s bass, Jake’s keys, and my voice.

We spent a few minutes on sound checks, trying to get the mix right in the earphones, so everyone could hear themselves and each other. After all the sound checks were done I pulled out my charts and we started practicing.

We hadn’t met to rehearse, so this was the first time the guys were playing my songs. Being the consummate professionals that they are, however, they took my ideas and ran with them. Until that moment my songs had mostly lived as ideas in my head. I played them in my living room, but (inexpertly played) acoustic guitar and voice give a completely different feel than a full jazz trio!

I can’t tell you what a delight it was to hear a band bring my music to life!

And the guys had fantastic ideas! It was like being in a creative stew pot, with ideas popping up like dried corn kernels in a hot pan. Over the course of our two studio sessions we worked out intros and endings, where breaks would come in the music, and what kind of groove each song should have.

Doug started playing a “Killer Joe” intro to Online Dating Blues and we all said “let’s use it!”; Jake suggested a straight-8s feel for I Need A Vacation (brilliant); John used brushes to create a mystical, dreamy intro to Geary Street; Jake pumped out a Gospel feel on the keys for Married Men (a hilarious contrast to the content of the song) while Doug created a “overweight marred men in Dockers” solo.

Here’s how the day went:

• Rehearse a song, work out feel, intros, endings, solos
• Record the song
• Assess our performance, make notes of what to change, and record the song again
• Repeat as needed, until everyone was ready to move on to the next song
• Start process over with another song

I have to confess that there was no point during our 11+ hours of recording over two Saturdays when everyone was 100% happy with his or her performance! If we’d had unlimited time I suspect we’d still be working on it today (or at least until we all got completely sick of it! A certain amount of perfectionism is the curse of being an artist and wanting your work to be the best it can be).

However, I did not have the budget for unlimited studio time, so (thankfully) we didn’t have that luxury. Instead, we moved on whenever we felt like the song we were working on was “good enough” for the CD.

Understand that with four professional musicians, “good enough” is a difficult determination at best, and a little distance can turn something “awful” into “not bad” or even “pretty damn good – hunh!” Jake was convinced he needed to re-do his solo on one of the songs, but when we reconvened the following week and listened again, he decided it wasn’t as bad as he’d thought.

Musicians’ memories of our own performances are rarely reliable… This truism came back to haunt me in the mixing studio, but more on that next time…

–

Next: Mixing and More

Ever wondered what’s involved in making a CD of original music? At the end of 2009 I recorded and self-produced my first “official” release, Online Dating Blues, and here’s a glimpse inside the process. (Originally published 12/11/09 on ketubahdiva.com)

Part Three: Scheduling the Sessions and Raising the Money

Once again I was faced with the question of how to produce the CD.

I toyed for awhile with doing a live CD recording concert, reasoning that I perform best for an audience. Plus my radio show was live, and I got a handful of acceptable tracks from that, so surely I could do the same again. Also I could ask for donations in advance and at the door to help cover production costs.

Finding a venue I was happy with, and actually making it happen, though, proved harder than one would think. I was blocked again, though I couldn’t say exactly why.

Weeks went by…

Margo, my voice teacher thought I should “do it right” and hire a professional producer. She’d been working with this guy for months, was impressed with the performances he was getting out of her, and I figured why not at least meet him? Though I expected working with him would be pricey. And would I encounter the same issues I had with the first producer?

All my concerns ended up moot, because somehow, although the producer in question was apparently interested in meeting me, and Margo was willing to make the hour-long drive with me to facilitate an introduction, nothing happened.

Weeks went by, I didn’t follow through, and suddenly I realized holiday shopping season was right around the corner, and damnit, I wanted to get a CD made NOW! No more waiting!

It didn’t have to be professionally produced (no matter what Margo said) – my home-burned radio show CD had proven that! Hell, if it was better than my radio show CD it would be a clear win, and for that all I really needed was a way to record me and my band.

A Cheaper Way to Record…

A year before I’d gotten together with a trio in my drummer’s garage studio (John Lazarus – Idea Room) to rehearse and record “just for fun.” My big goal at the time was to get a recording of my first song, He’s Just Not That Into You, to use as a soundtrack for a video I wanted to make. Now it suddenly occurred to me – DOH! – perhaps the most expedient and cost-effective way to go about this would be to record in John’s studio again.

I shot off an email asking if he and his band, The Big Beat Trio, would be interested and available, and how much they’d charge.

Within a couple of days I had two five-hour recording sessions scheduled (at $30o a pop; $100 for each musician per session), and two mixing/mastering sessions with an engineer John recommended, Nick at Earhythmic Studio, who only charged $50 per song for both mixing and mastering.

(To give you an idea of what a deal this was, $100-200 per song is not uncommon for mastering alone, and mixing is way more involved…)

Great! It may not be Capitol Records, but given my time and budget constraints (did I mention I was broke?), I managed to let my inner perfectionist take a breather and remember my goal to just make this CD better than the last one. Not an impossible task, which also had the added benefit of making a future CD that’s even better than this one seem achievable as well. Baby steps…

Paying For It All…

Wow! Blocks busted! No more paralysis! I was moving forward!

Now, how to pay for this thing..

Although I was doing this on a shoestring ($150 per song is a helluva lot better than $1,000 – see Part 1: Background – but that didn’t include the costs to replicate the actual discs), it was still going to cost more than I had on hand, especially given that this was December, the deepest, darkest depths of cash-flow darkness for my mostly wedding-related art and design business.

My estimates were at least $2,000-2,500.

I had met artists at Music Strategies who had raised CD production money from their fan base, and knew of still others who’d done the same. Earlier this year I randomly sat next to my guitar teacher, Carol McComb, on a flight. I spent the entire time picking her brain about her phenomenally successful fundraising campaign, which brought in something like $40,000 from students, friends and fans. !!!

Carol sent me a copy of her fundraising letter, from the days before everyone used email and paypal. Ah, technology! No stamp-sticking for me: as soon as I’d scheduled the recording sessions I composed an email to my fanbase, using Carol’s letter as a skeleton, asking for their support and offering certain “premiums” for different levels of support.

(I had a lot of fun with this: since my songs are mostly themed around the trials and tribulations of dating, I offered different kinds of  [totally platonic!] dates with me for each of the $100-and-above levels. I wasn’t sure how this would come across, but the comments were all positive – as I’d hoped, people got a good chuckle out of it.)

I accepted pre-orders for $10, and here are the “Executive Producer” contribution levels I offered:

Executive Producer Levels:

$25 – Web Executive Producer
Your name on my website and 2 copies of the CD

$50 – Web&Print Executive Producer
Your name on my website AND in the liner notes, and 3 copies of the CD

$100 – “Coffee Date” Executive Producer
Your name on my website AND in the liner notes, 4 copies of the CD, and a coffee date with me!

$250 – “Lunch Date” Executive Producer
Your name on my website AND in the liner notes, 6 copies of the CD, and a lunch date with me!

$500 – “Drinks Date” Executive Producer
Your name on my website AND in the liner notes, 8 copies of the CD, and a date for drinks with me!

$1000 – “Dinner Date” Executive Producer
Your name on my website AND in the liner notes, 10 copies of the CD, and a date for dinner with me!

I sent the email off and waited to see what would happen…

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Next: Support from Unexpected Corners, and Finally In the Studio!

Ever wondered what’s involved in making a CD of original music? At the end of 2009 I recorded and self-produced my first “official” release, Online Dating Blues, and here’s a glimpse inside the process. (Originally published 12/10/09 on ketubahdiva.com)

Part Two: A Free CD, and Busting Perfectionist Blocks

After my disappointing appointment with the cigarette-smoking producer, suddenly I was saved from researching expensive CD production ideas, at least temporarily, when a promoter I knew hooked me up with a live concert gig on KZSU Stanford radio.

It was college radio, with old equipment and somewhat limited production values, but hey, there was a sound engineer, and the gig would be recorded, so voilá, I’d have a CD of me and my band! Nothing fancy, no after-the-session mixing and mastering because it would be recorded as one track, but hell, it would be something.

The fact that the gig was LIVE on air (with a radio audience of maybe two people for all I knew [in addition to the four or five in the studio audience], but still…) led to a serious case of nerves (can you say “shaky breath support”? can you say “pitchiness”?).

But when all was said and done I came home with twelve tracks, five of which made me cringe minimally enough that I felt not too uncomfortable about turning them into CDs to at least have as samplers. (Can you say “perfectionist”?) When, on a whim, I offered them for sale at a gig, and - gasp! – people started buying them, and liking them, something clicked for me.

A Realization All Perfectionist Artists Might Benefit From

I realized (and this may seem obvious) that being “perfect,” or at least better than I am right now, or “as good as [insert successful music artist]” is not what it’s about. People liked those CDs because they are authentic expression of who I was in that particular moment.

Who knows, maybe the moments that make me cringe (when my pitch wavers, or my voice blips or wobbles) make some listeners actually like my singing better, because it’s so clearly not canned. No auto-tuning here, baby! This is the real thing!

Time for a New Addition to the Catalogue

For two years this home-burned disc (which I titled “Melissa Dinwiddie Live from KZSU”), packaged simply in a paper sleeve, was the only CD I had. My voice was evolving, I was beginning to write my own songs, rather than just singing standards, and it was becoming more and more bothersome that my only CD, much as I liked it (especially after several weeks’ distance!) was no longer representative of who I was now as an artist.

It really hit home when I started singing my first song, He’s Just Not That Into You, at gigs. Inevitably, people would come up afterwards asking to buy the CD… and I had to tell them there wasn’t one.

Ouch! I could hear the lost sale, the “ka-ching” that never was. Oh, the pain!

I added another original song, and another, which led to more “can I buy the CD?” responses, and pretty soon it was clear I needed to get these songs recorded and catch those listeners before they got away!

Music Strategies

Let me take a moment to rave about a music marketing seminar I’ve attended (three times), because it played a great part in my getting this CD made.

Music Strategies is put on by independent music marketing guru, Tim Sweeney, to give independent music artists the tools to make a living from their music without being dependent on a label, or anyone else for that matter. In addition to giving the lowdown on the industry and how it works, Tim teaches you to think outside the box, to be creative about how you market yourself, and to work together with other artists.

(In my other business, as a ketubah artist selling art and stationery for weddings, competition is fierce because couples, after all, only buy one ketubah and one set of wedding stationery. One of Tim’s signature speeches is that as music artists, we have no competition; nobody buys one CD, or listens to only one artist, in their lifetime!)

I have learned a ton at Music Strategies and from Tim, though I haven’t been diligent about putting it all into practice yet (can you say “overwhelm”?)

Among other things, Music Strategies freed me from the idea that a CD had to have ten or twelve tracks. Tim is a big proponent of artists producing a new CD every six months, with just four, five or six tracks, if that’s what you’ve got. Get your fans used to buying from you regularly is Tim’s thinking. (Smart guy, that Tim!)

With that in mind I decided to include only original material on my CD (written by me and/or the talented Angus Stocking), six tracks in total.

Now I was back to how to get the dang thing made…

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Next: Scheduling the Sessions and Raising the Money

Ever wondered what’s involved in making a CD of original music? At the end of 2009 I recorded and self-produced my first “official” release, Online Dating Blues, and here’s a glimpse inside the process. (Originally published 12/9/09 on ketubahdiva.com)

Part 1: Background

I’ve been singing jazz since 2005, gigging since 2006, and everyone knows the currency of the music world is recorded songs. Having a CD – and ultimately a catalogue of CDs – along with the downloadable mp3s thereof, is essential to develop an audience.

Although CDs are becoming less important in the world of downloads, ipods and music-by-subscription (Rhapsody, et al), it’s still useful to have physical “product” to sell at gigs, give out to potential venues, etc. Perhaps in the not-too-distant future CDs will go the way of the woolly mammoth, but for now they still have their place in the indie music artist’s patchwork quilt of income streams.

Naturally, I’ve been wanting a CD since I started singing seriously. What music artist doesn’t have one?? Even just a demo of a few songs is a big step up from nothing – potential venues and private clients need to hear a band before determining if they want to hire them, and they’re unlikely to come to a gig.

Plus the days of the homemade cassette tape are long gone. The advent of high quality home-studio recording equipment and software means that it’s now possible for indie artists to achieve professional results without the help of a major label or a rich producer.

The catch is you still have to invest money (and if you’re doing it all yourself, significant amounts of time) to acquire and learn how to use the equipment! Still, small recording studios, engineers and home-based producers abound, so one doesn’t have to do it all oneself.

You do, however, have to pick from what feels like an endless array of choices…

On Blocks of the Emotional, Decision-overload, and Financial Variety

Perhaps it is this plenitude of possibilities that had me blocked for so long around making a CD. Certainly the fear of taking a permanent snapshot of my still-developing singing skills had no small part in the blockage. When improvement is clearly evident (to me, at least!) over a period of weeks or months, there’s a strong impulse to wait “until I’m better” to capture oneself for the world (I wish) to  hear.

But of course, presumably, if one is working on one’s craft, one is continually improving and getting better, so at some point one has to just dive in and accept that any recording is “a snapshot of where I am at this particular moment.” It helps to assume that any given snapshot will only be one of many… but you’ve got to start with one.

Hurdling this emotional block was just the start. Once I’d decided that I had the psychic strength to intentionally create a permanent record of my imperfect self, I still had to figure out how to make it happen.

I read an article recently which argued that too many choices is actually a hindrance to happiness. I’m inclined to agree.

Not that I would want to live in a restricted world, but an overabundance of choices can lead to overwhelm. Which one is best? If I go with A, will I later regret not going with B? Everyone has an opinion, too, a studio “you really must use,” a producer “who’s the best,” a sound engineer… I tend to be of the “research everything to death before making a decision” variety, so the plethora of possible solutions only added to my paralysis.

The Producer Track

On the suggestion of my voice teacher I did finally make an appointment with a producer, but he wanted to use his musicians, rather than the guys I’d worked with and was comfortable playing with; wanted me to record over canned tracks, rather than live with the band (which, granted, allows for significantly greater editing control, since I could re-do my vocals as many times as necessary to get a good take without also having to get good takes from piano, bass and drums at the same time, but eliminates the in-the-moment interaction among musicians that, as a jazz singer, is part and parcel of what I endeavor to present on stage); was going to charge $1,000 per song (ouch); and (the nail in the coffin) smoked like a chimney, IN the studio, so the place reeked and I simply didn’t think I could tolerate even one hour in there, let alone the seven or eight that a recording session might require.

Plus the sample track he played for me of another vocalist he’d recently recorded did not impress. I now wonder if perhaps it hadn’t been mixed (had he said as much? I didn’t really understand the function of mixing at the time, so I don’t honestly remember, but I hope that was the case, because the whole track sounded like a karaoke session, with the vocalist in an entirely separate room from the band.. which of course, he had been, having recorded his vocals over the band’s already-recorded tracks, but the point is that it sounded that way. Not cool.)

So there went that idea. Back I was at square one.

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Next: A Free CD, and Busting Perfectionist Blocks