An Open Letter to Musicians: Lemme Hear It!
I don't claim to be the prototypical music listener and buyer. I listen to, and buy, a whole lot of music. I spend uncountable hours on various web sites, including my own, shooting the breeze about what I've heard. I don't care to attempt to quantify my actual cash outlay for all of the music I've acquired in my life, but I'm sure the grand total is pretty steep and would cause me to shake my head in disbelief. In addition to amassing a sizable amount of music, I've also accumulated substantial insight into how I, and others, go about discovering music. And to the point of this article, I'm going to share what I know. My advice is well meant and I hope it is taken that way.
About me, currently:
I'm the All About Jazz Download of the Day editor. I contribute to a new arrivals column on music retailer eMusic in which I make weekly jazz picks. I write standard reviews for both outfits. I blog at Bird is the Worm. I occasionally contribute to a very cool new music site called MusicIsGood.org. I'm beginning plans to expand my reach. So, not a music big shot, by any means, but I know some stuff and I do some stuff. Further down, I will describe how I typically go about exploring new music. I mention my current jazz bio by way of explaining that my current positions aren't the reason I have my current music exploration process... I have those positions because of that process, because of my enthusiastic and relentless search for my next favorite album (and hopefully your next favorite album, too).
I live in the middle of nowhere. You will not meet me at hip jazz clubs or at regular hangs. I don't run in similar circles. I am, in a physical sense, out of the loop. The music I discover is done solely over the internet. If you're an artist who can't be bothered with an internet presence, who rues the day MP3s were created, and who doesn't have a label, agent, friend or family member who is internet savvy and gets your music up there in bright bold HTML, then it is very likely I will never hear the voice you give through notes and silence. I will never have the opportunity to connect with you. Your music doesn't exist to me.
In this, I am not alone. Lots of people live in lots of small towns all over the place, far far away from concert halls and music shops and venues that would have quality music playing while people sat around to shoot the breeze about it. And it's not just the middle-of-nowhere people. I am a Chicago guy. I was born and raised there, lived in that city throughout my life. There are a whole lotta people who live in that town, and just like any large city, it is populated by a segment of people who don't go out a hell of a lot, who maybe don't like city life all that much, who live in solitude while surrounded by six million neighbors. These people, also, are on the internet discovering music, buying music on the internet, living digitally. Do not dismiss my advice as just the inevitable fallout of small town logistics. There are people in jazz centers of the world that will never see or hear you if not through the internet. This is about much more than geography. This is about how people connect, not just today, but tomorrow and tomorrow after. That it is increasingly happening in cyberspace is not necessarily a good or bad thing. What's important is the quality of that connection between musician and listener, and it requires a little bit of effort from both parties to make it work. Let's talk about that.
Finally, My Point: Lemme Hear It!
If you have an album, let me hear all of it. A musician's best tool at getting me to plunk down cash is the music itself. I like a pretty album cover as much as the next guy. Cool band name or album title? Sure, it'll grab my attention. The label, producer, guest musicians, personnel and instruments, yeah, absolutely, they'll all help in catching my eye. But those only serve to corral me in as far as wondering what your album sounds like. That essential curiosity won't be satisfied unless I get to hear that music in its fullness.