Summer is here.. - Trevor Jones's MySpace Blog | - New Album and Summer Plans
Summer is here in Colorado, evidenced by the mojito party about to go down in my parent's house for my best friend from childhood, Mike, who is getting married in July. I admire him and admire his fiance even more for putting up with the guy. I can't see myself getting married, my profession simply prevents it, for one. Put by Tony Montana, a mutual idol for Mike and I both, "In this country, you gotta make the money first."
So how do you make money as a musician? Not by selling physical copies or downloads of your music. We in Frogs have a decent shot at that, only because our record label is small, independent and most importantly, cool. But for most of rock history bands gave all their money to the label who for some reason, wanted it back after recording costs, mastering costs, mixing costs, limousine and cocaine costs, and fluffy pink pillows on the hotel beds during the entire recording process costs were all factored in. Thank the rock gods we live in more moderate times.
No, to make money as a musician you simply play your backside off. This is inevitably a good thing because while you're spending all day writing blogs and updating facebook instead of practicing, a show every night provides three hours of shedding and shredding that makes you think in real time, although you have to be able to take the same musical risks you would in practice so you can grow, even if it means falling flat on your face first. This is a point the industry analyst everyone loves to hate, Bob Lefsetz, makes a lot, that the music is the only thing that can save the music now. I just wonder if we as a people have time for the epic rock song anymore, now that the internet has replaced baseball as our national pastime. Musician's wages haven't gone up since the 70's but that doesn't mean a couple hundred bucks for just a couple hours of indulging in your art is bad pay at all. It's all about the frequency with which you can book and keep gigs. I'm playing at the farmer's market this month, on Sunday's with my keyboard playing alter-ego in the Stereo Assassins, even driving across the state to play two gigs in the same day on some days. A positive attitude and willingness to travel go a long way.
No travelling today, however. I'm playing just up the highway in Denver at Jordan's Bistro with an old friend tonight. First I need a mojito.
Saturday, May 22
Thursday, May 13
After New Orleans
I feel like I have culture shock after spending a month in New Orleans with Frogs Gone Fishin' and moving back to Colorado for the summer. That's pretty strange, I grew up in Denver and have spent so many weekends romping in the mountains where I'll locate myself this summer. Something about NOLA has just become so entwined, so complimentary to my lifestyle and profession that living other places seems strange.
I love Colorado. Right now I'm staring out the window across an alpine valley at Beaver Creek mountain. The May weather has left still-white patches of snow where the sun hasn't uncovered the greenery beneath and my favorite part about the Beav, mythic cloud cover that wafts down the valley all day like a mountain out of Mordor or something. At night the lights from houses nestled into the hills glimmer at the base of the towering mountain. The way we as humans have come to interact with nature here in Colorado is beautiful. Then again, it's easy. Save for some cold winter months, we simply lack the fire, flood, earthquake or tsunami's that make life uncertain elsewhere, New Orleans for example.
Maybe its New Orleans' embattled relationship with nature that stirs my affinity for the city, but I know I become more emotional about NOLA than just about anything in life. When the Saints won the big one early this year I reacted by tearing my shirt off, crying, and running around the house at the Super Bowl party... all in the company of other grown men. I think one of the biggest problems in describing the "soul" of the city of New Orleans is just that, talking about the "soul" of a city, its food and music and culture, all sounds so cliche to non-believers, non-knowers. New Orleans carries so many cliches that getting people to picture the town as a whole, beyond Bourbon St. and Mardi Gras, is difficult.
Its scary how accurate that new Treme show is on HBO. The show is so true to NOLA that I wonder how someone without a fair amount of experience with the Big Easy can enjoy the extended scenes of musical performance and geographically specific dialogue. As a band we know five or six musicians featured on the show personally. My alma mater, Tulane, is bashed repeatedly by John Goodman in his ranting monologues for their post-Katrina policies. Even the Times-Picayune has a column dedicated to all the subtleties of Treme originating from the names, places and faces in NOLA. New Orleans is a town as deep as it is diverse, as deep as you want to take it. If you found the oldest lady living near Audubon Park, walked in her dusty dark house, and asked her about the craziest thing she'd ever seen living in New Orleans, your jaw would melt and mind might warp listening to stories about a town that has seen its share of fire, flood, prostitution, gambling, drugs and violence, problems which never really went away. Treme is the oldest black neighborhood in America and the very center of much of the music that comes out of New Orleans today and yesterday. That places it high in the running for being the center of musical creation in America, the center of rhythmic structure that went on to be our main artistic export to the world, Jazz.
And that's right, I cried when the Saints won. I said it and I'll say it again. I cried during the newly elected mayor's inauguration speech. I almost cried during the first episode of Treme when the characters are just returning from their Katrina exile. Maybe it is because I was one of those in exile and can't fathom that type of loss after living in NOLA my whole life, but both the struggle and triumph of New Orleans turns me into an absolute emotional, weeping little girl who can't keep the waterworks turned off.
How my feelings toward NOLA and the desire to live there all translate into musical opportunity is a complex issue. We make more money in Colorado, yet have also spent vastly more time building up a fan base here. New Orleans is a much richer creative environment and the sense of community as a whole makes Colorado look like the white bread capital of the world, if you get my drift. Colorado smells fresh and clean, New Orleans smells like salt water and saltier fish and gardenias. I'm torn.
You trade nature for culture between the two places and as an artist, I have to choose culture. If I did anything else for a living, I'd probably want to live in Colorado for the rest of my life. I just saw an article yesterday about how Denver has the third best economy in the nation out of 366 metro areas surveyed by Policom (never heard of 'em but that name sure does sound official).
Both NOLA and Colorado are beautiful places to live and I'm lucky to be able to switch between the two. The culture shock goes away after a couple days. I'm gonna go take a hike...
I love Colorado. Right now I'm staring out the window across an alpine valley at Beaver Creek mountain. The May weather has left still-white patches of snow where the sun hasn't uncovered the greenery beneath and my favorite part about the Beav, mythic cloud cover that wafts down the valley all day like a mountain out of Mordor or something. At night the lights from houses nestled into the hills glimmer at the base of the towering mountain. The way we as humans have come to interact with nature here in Colorado is beautiful. Then again, it's easy. Save for some cold winter months, we simply lack the fire, flood, earthquake or tsunami's that make life uncertain elsewhere, New Orleans for example.
Maybe its New Orleans' embattled relationship with nature that stirs my affinity for the city, but I know I become more emotional about NOLA than just about anything in life. When the Saints won the big one early this year I reacted by tearing my shirt off, crying, and running around the house at the Super Bowl party... all in the company of other grown men. I think one of the biggest problems in describing the "soul" of the city of New Orleans is just that, talking about the "soul" of a city, its food and music and culture, all sounds so cliche to non-believers, non-knowers. New Orleans carries so many cliches that getting people to picture the town as a whole, beyond Bourbon St. and Mardi Gras, is difficult.
Its scary how accurate that new Treme show is on HBO. The show is so true to NOLA that I wonder how someone without a fair amount of experience with the Big Easy can enjoy the extended scenes of musical performance and geographically specific dialogue. As a band we know five or six musicians featured on the show personally. My alma mater, Tulane, is bashed repeatedly by John Goodman in his ranting monologues for their post-Katrina policies. Even the Times-Picayune has a column dedicated to all the subtleties of Treme originating from the names, places and faces in NOLA. New Orleans is a town as deep as it is diverse, as deep as you want to take it. If you found the oldest lady living near Audubon Park, walked in her dusty dark house, and asked her about the craziest thing she'd ever seen living in New Orleans, your jaw would melt and mind might warp listening to stories about a town that has seen its share of fire, flood, prostitution, gambling, drugs and violence, problems which never really went away. Treme is the oldest black neighborhood in America and the very center of much of the music that comes out of New Orleans today and yesterday. That places it high in the running for being the center of musical creation in America, the center of rhythmic structure that went on to be our main artistic export to the world, Jazz.
And that's right, I cried when the Saints won. I said it and I'll say it again. I cried during the newly elected mayor's inauguration speech. I almost cried during the first episode of Treme when the characters are just returning from their Katrina exile. Maybe it is because I was one of those in exile and can't fathom that type of loss after living in NOLA my whole life, but both the struggle and triumph of New Orleans turns me into an absolute emotional, weeping little girl who can't keep the waterworks turned off.
How my feelings toward NOLA and the desire to live there all translate into musical opportunity is a complex issue. We make more money in Colorado, yet have also spent vastly more time building up a fan base here. New Orleans is a much richer creative environment and the sense of community as a whole makes Colorado look like the white bread capital of the world, if you get my drift. Colorado smells fresh and clean, New Orleans smells like salt water and saltier fish and gardenias. I'm torn.
You trade nature for culture between the two places and as an artist, I have to choose culture. If I did anything else for a living, I'd probably want to live in Colorado for the rest of my life. I just saw an article yesterday about how Denver has the third best economy in the nation out of 366 metro areas surveyed by Policom (never heard of 'em but that name sure does sound official).
Both NOLA and Colorado are beautiful places to live and I'm lucky to be able to switch between the two. The culture shock goes away after a couple days. I'm gonna go take a hike...
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