A not-business-as-usual post
from the heart
Hey. I’d like to say thanks for more than just the usual stuff. It’s not just because it’s “that” time (it’s always time) but because I also really mean it.
Some of you have known me as an artist, others as a colleague or collaborator, some have come on board here because of the podcast and because you appreciate my take on talking with musicians.
Since you show up, I want to be honest with you about what it’s taken to get me here.
I’ll deliver you some warm words up top, and if you read to the bottom you’ll find a great giving opportunity to a most worthy cause close to all of our hearts.
I’ve had an uncomfortable evolution, like many of us.
There were plenty of desperate moments at the main cinch points of 2020, yes, and I also feel the general toll this year has taken on my psyche. Sometimes it’s hard to wake up and just brush off the creeping sense of futility. But I made a pledge at the beginning of this year to put out an episode each week and have mostly followed through on it (give or take a week).
This very act kept me sane and grounded, able to feel hopeful and connected through these troubled months. I thank you for listening, for sharing your selves and your own thoughts with me both privatlely and publicly.
Many of us were going through stuff already, though, before the pandemic hit. And yes I include myself.
Of course, that’s life: I’ve been receiving kicks and nudges on the regular since the begining. But on the strictly musical tip it’s been much deeper than normal since about 2008. (Or 2003 if you count my truck accident, but let’s not widen the scope too much.)
In 2008 I hit the road, having been ejected from NYC by the economic crash. It was partly by choice, but the reality is that I got let go from all three of my jobs on the same day. I could not pay rent any more, and thus began an odyssey which took entirely too long to resolve: I didn’t get another apartment until late 2011.
I learned to live on music in the intervening time.
The music part was not a choice. I went from place to place, sleeping on couches, sometimes in spare bedrooms, other times in a vehicle. Playing every day between gigs, trying and keep some very alarming questions at bay:
How did I wind up here?
What’s wrong with me?
Why can’t I keep a job?
Where is this all heading?
What does it take to actually thrive with music?
I’d certainly found my voice and a style (which is a long and hard enough process on its own), but it turns out that that was just the beginning of the work. Because if you want to build an audience you need to make community for sure, but on some level you’re also competing with Beer, Netflix and Beyoncé for the discretionary dollars of strangers. It’s brutal, and I struggled on both counts.
A sense of futility can creep in and take hold if you’re not careful. Without a compelling “why” for any kind of endeavor, one can doom themselves to an endless and ever-narrowing road while the world sails in the other direction. The music world is definitely littered with a lot of lost souls and I was in danger of becoming one of them.
It was definitely not all bad! I enjoy the amazing gift to have spent part of my life living “by” music alone.
But all I really wanted was to live with music. Sometimes inside of it, other times surrounded by it. And always connected to it.
But I learned the limits of my ability to tolerate travel and solitude. My mental health declined into perpetual depression and neurosis. My back and nerves were in a constant state of pain thanks to all the driving, heavy lifting of gear, late nights and sleeping on strange surfaces. I was socially adrift and my life as a whole felt like it was narrowing, not expanding.
The world was changing without me.
The lift was just too much and I was getting less and less juice from the squeeze each time.
So I shifted: away from touring and eventually from regular performing.
In retrospect I feel lucky to have lived to tell about it. And it’s not like that voice has ever stopped singing inside of me. Music is indeed not content, it’s connection. Today I feel better, live better and my music has a place to breathe. I’ve also found real love and live in a real home. Gratitude rules my days.
But what about the music life?
You tell me. The quest is real.
Some of us remember a time when the forces of technological advancement used to be aligned in service to the music, for the betterment of our musical lives. RCA was the Apple Computer of its day, a juggernaut continuously investing in innovation and the health of the ecosystem which was its lifeblood. Profiting magnificently in the process, putting music front and center.
We’re still listening to those tracks and following in the footsteps of those artists.
Today, however we see strain on all sides. From the perspective of listeners, players, writers or producers our world has changed beyond all recognition. And so has Music.
(But don’t take it from me! There’s plenty on this topic in my interviews with Ed Marshall of Dreamscape, Tamara Fuller of Atlanta’s The Velvet Note and Blake Morgan of #irespectmusic, as well as most of the other episodes in the feed.)
I’m not gonna say it’s lost - far from it! It’s very much a buyer’s market and you can scratch your itch in myriad new ways. I love it. There are even ways to make money without entirely reinventing the wheel. Still, mystery and struggle abound.
It’s not that no one has all the answers, it’s that the answers keep changing.
So it remains up to us to create the musical experiences we want to have. While music is more accessible than ever, in some ways it’s also less comprehensible and feels more remote. It is definitely up to us to make it work.
So I thank you from the bottom of my heart for being here. You are the folks who get it, tuning in each week and writing back to me with your input. I’m going to bookend 2020 with this post, take some rest and pick it back up on January 6th with some new sounds and a continued slate of illustrious guests.
As always, sending big love to your and yours’ ears.
In the meantime, if you’re in a circumstance where you can give money, I’d like to point you to the Music Maker Relief Foundation:
The Music Maker Relief Foundation, a 501c3 non-profit, was founded to preserve the musical traditions of the South by directly supporting the musicians who make it, ensuring their voices will not be silenced by poverty and time. Music Maker will give future generations access to their heritage through documentation and performance programs that build knowledge and appreciation of America’s musical traditions.
Or as the narrator of this video will tell you:
“They didn’t ask for money, they wanted a gig.”
I’ve attended events put on by this org, and they’re legit. If you find yourself with extra dollars this week please send them their way. All the info is at their site:
https://musicmaker.org: Because The Music Matters.
And I’ll say it again: Thank You for showing up this year and for dwelling in the music with me and our many fine guests. There is more to come.
Music is a beautiful thing and it makes the world go round.
Big love to your ears, here at the end of 2020 here and onward into ‘21.
Let’s do this,
Trevor
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