Tuesday, September 14, 2021

I AM the Record Company...

I've had more than one person inquire as to why it is I have to pay for the recording of this album... as if professional musicians and producers just work for free all the time... lol.

I think the underlying question is, "why don't (or can't) you just get a record deal, so that the record company pays all the costs?"

The proper answer to that question is complex.  First, I probably couldn't get a record deal if my life depended on it, for a variety of reasons - but most importantly, because I'm creating a style of music that is worlds different than anything on the radio right now.  Record companies primarily exist to make money, and are therefore largely interested in signing artists who are producing material similar in style to what is popular today.  All well and good.

Second (and more importantly)... why would I want a record deal?  This is not the holy grail that everyone seems to think it is.  It essentially involves signing away ownership of your master recordings, as well as roughly 85% of the potential profits derived therefrom (plus a host of ancillary income to which no label should have a rightful claim, but that's another story for another time).

The reality is, I'm wearing two completely separate hats in this endeavor: Yes, I am the artist... but I am also the label.  Not only am I paying the recording costs, but I am the A&R exec, as well as the executive responsible for contracting with distribution partners (to get the music to the world), videographers (for the creation of promotional videos), and marketing firms (for the purposes of creating artwork, updating social media profiles and posts, generating press releases and facilitating blog placements, and managing targeting advertising campaigns).

It's a lot of work, and a fair amount of expense... but in the event this project becomes successful (to whatever extent), it will be me reaping the rewards.


  

Sunday, September 5, 2021

Trip Close-Out...

At the airport.  Got here 3 hours early with the intention of relaxing in the Delta Skyclub... only to discover this airport doesn't have one.  Was certain they did... unforced error on my part.  Oh well... at least I've found a bar with decent food that has Sammy's on draft.  And a first class upgrade on my outbound flight...

Modest win on the trip that covered expenses and then some; would have been wonderful if not for a brutal session at a remote locale with great rules.  Took 6 hours of round-trip travel time to get there; the conditions and playability made it worthwhile (they allowed me several hours and no backoff ever came) - but the toke hustling was annoying beyond belief.  

Played one final session today at a chain location; spent an hour, got a sweet max bet shoe that lasted roughly half of the six decks - but only ended up clearing an additional 300 (after being up I would estimate roughly 1500 with a few hands left).  Such is the nature of max bet shoes.

Came up with a great idea for the forthcoming concept album... will compose a few songs called "Open Letter" to each of casinos, dealers and civilians...  

Wednesday, September 1, 2021

Resist the Argumentative Urge...

I often fantasize about what my response would be in the scenario where a casino taps a confederate officer to demand my ID.  I would be well within my rights to "remind" the officer that he may only require my ID in the event he suspects me of having broken the law.

The desire to win these battles is a significant flaw of mine.  Winning the ID batttle on principle might get you the money, but it will also make you very memorable - which is something we are obviously looking to avoid.

The other day, I walked to a cashier in a remote locale with a few thousand in chips.  Rather than prepare for the inevitable ID confrontation, I informed him upfront, in a friendly way, that I had left my ID back in my hotel room - and would I really neeed to drive the half hour to retrieve it and bring it back?

The cashier simply asked me what my name was (I provided a reasonable pseudonym, careful to ensure he had the "proper" spelling of my last name) and my birthday (I'm pretty sure I gave him the right month, but may have blanked on the day and year, and therefore estimated both).

The cashier dutifully typed the info in his system, confirmed that it didn't match any undersirables in the system, and proceeded to cash me out without incident.

You really can attract more flies with honey...